oregon humanities spring 2013: spectacle

7/28/2019 Oregon Humanities Spring 2013: Spectacle

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SpectacleSpring 2013Burning bushes everywhere

The dogged tradition of the

Pendleton Round-Up

An unforgivable,unforgettable prank

Aprivate tragedybecomespublic property


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Oregon Humanities2

Kathleen Holt

Jen Wick

Ben Waterhouse

Alex Behr

Tom Booth

Brian Doyle

Debra Gwartney

Julia Heydon

Guy MaynardWin McCormack

Kathleen Dean Moore

Greg Netzer

Camela Raymond

Kate Sage

Rich Wandschneider

Dave Weich

Oregon Humanities is pub-

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3 Spring 2013 Spectacle

Joe Roub rides a bucking horse in

the rodeo arena at the Pendleton

Round-Up.

Image courtesy of Special

Collections and University Archives,

UO Libraries

Cover photo by Kurt Hettle

Departments

4

Editors Note

6

Field Work

Think & Drink 2013: How to

Love America Balloons of

La Grande Conversations

about Race Letter from the

Board Chair Public Program

Grants Awarded Donor profile

of Kathleen Saadat OH News

11

What I Think

Stephen Marc Beaudoin on theperspective-shaping power of

the arts a nd humanities.

Features:Spectacle

12

Burning Bushesby

When it comes to attention

getting spectacles, God is no

longer the only game in town.

18

An Anecdotal Glossary of

Spectacle

by .

Book-to-movie adaptations,

Zenith TVs, and everything

in between

23Fearful Beautyby

Embracing both the wonder and

terror of awe

27

Rodeo Cityby

Pendleton has built its identity

around dogged loyalty to

tradition.

31

Unforgiven, Unforgottenby

The long shadow of a prank

made public

36

The Monstrousness of Empathyby

When a private tragedy becomes

public property

40

PostsReaders write about Spectacle

44

Read. Talk. Think.

Animal Wise by Virginia MorellLincoln and Oregon Country

Politics in the Civil War Era

by Richard W. Etulain The

Shelter Cycle by Peter Rock

Incarnadine by Mary Szybist

Portlands Lost Waterfrontby

Barney BlalockWedlockedby

Jay Ponteri

46

Croppings

The Last Supperat Marylhurst

University Art Gym


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A celebrationof thinkers,

makersand doers.

opb.org


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Oregon Humanities6

An audience member at a 2012

Think & Drink event takes the mic.

America, InscrutableThe 2013 Think & Drink series considers our

nation and us.

T -tion are a time of introspection. Whetherwe suppor ted the winner s or the losers, the

occasion of a country wide referendum on our

collective future gives us cause to consider the

state of the nation: What makes up the A merica

of today? What does it stand for? And if we dont

like what it stands for, how do we reconcile our

love of the place we call home with our desire

to change it?

With the 2013 Think & Drink series, How to

Love America, Oregon Humanities invites you

to take a look at our relationship to our nation

in a quarterly series of free programs focused

on personal and national identity. Guests wi llinclude decorated veterans of the Vietnam and

Iraq wars, international policy experts, and

immigration scholars (see sidebar, next page).

The series kicked oon March 21 with a con-

versation about dissension and the defense of

civil rights with Michael Kazin, co-editor ofDis-

sentmagazine and author ofAmerican Dream-

ers: How the Left Changed a Nation, and Steven T.

Wax, U.S. federal public defender for the District

of Oregon and author ofKaa Comes to Amer-

ica: Fighting for Justice in the War on Terror.

Americas roles in the world are changing,

both economically and militarily, and we are

faced with tough questions about what those

roles should be, says Jennifer Allen, Oregon

Humanities director of programs. Each

theme in this years Think & Drink series

attempts to answer the question posed by the

title of the serieshow do we, and how should

we, express our love of country? All our speak-

ers would, I think, consider themselves patri-ots, but they choose to exercise their patriotism

in very dierent ways.

Field Work

Want to keepup with thehumanities inOregon?

t7JTJUoregonhumanities.org

to sign up for our monthly

enewsletter.

t-JLFVTPO'BDFCPPL

t'PMMPXVTPO5XJUUFS

TIML

ABARGE


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Think & Drink, now in its fifth year, is

a happy-hour series that invites the public

to consider provocative ideas in a nondog-

matic environment. These conversations

are not debates, but, rather, opportunities to

explore fresh ideas with experts in the field.

If Oregonians come away from these Think

& Drink conversations thinking more criti-

cally about the questions facing us as citizens

and as a nation, Allen says, our series will

be a success.

Happiness in La GrandeIdea Lab inspires students to measure their

communitys happiness.

T , who are out and about may be asked bylocal teens to share their thoughts on happi-

ness. Its all part of the student-created project

Balloons of La Grande: A Portrait of Happiness.As a part icipant in Ore gon Hum aniti es

2012Idea Lab Summer Institute, a three-day

humanities program for Oregon students

and teachers, high school senior Lauren

Babcock learned about artist Jonathan Har-

rissBalloons of Bhutan photo series. Bhutan

measures its prosperity not in gross national

product but in gross national happiness. For

his project, Harris asked citizens of the Hima-

layan country to rate their level of happiness

from one to ten and photographed his sub-

ject s holding a corr espond ing number of ba l-

loons. Babcock wondered how people in her

Top: Tamar Jacoby, Gregory Rodriguez, Olga

Oliker; bottom: Bruce Gilley, Karl Marlantes,

Cameron Smith

Think & Drink 2013: How to Love America

2013 Think & Drink events are from 6:30 to 8:00

p.m. (doors open at 5:00) at the Mission Theater,1624 NE Glisan Street, in Portland. All events are

free and open to the public. Minors are welcome

when accompanied by an adult. The series is

supported by media sponsors Oregon Public

Broadcasting and Willamette Weekand by fund-

ing from the Oregon Cultural Trust.

May 15: Reinvent America with Tamar Jacoby,

president and CEO of the immigration reform

group ImmigrationWorks USA, and Gregory

Rodriguez, founder and executive director of

Zcalo Public Square in Los Angeles and found-

ing director of the Center for Social Cohesion at

Arizona State University

July 17: Champion Democracy with Olga Oliker,

associate director of the International Security and

Defense Policy Center and senior international

policy analyst at the RAND Corporation, and Bruce

Gilley, associate professor of political science at

Portland State University

Letter fromthe Board Chair

It is my extraordinary pleasure

to announce that the board of

directors has selected Adam

Davis as the new executive

director of Oregon Humanities.

Adam will join us in August

after wrapping up his duties in

Chicago as the director of the

Center for Civic Reflection, a

national organization that uses

the humanities to encourage

diverse groups to explore the

why of societys needs rather

than screaming at each other

about the how. Adam has

also taught for several yearsin the Odyssey Project, an

analog to Oregon Humanities

Humanity in Perspective

program for low-income

adults. His success in develop-

ing models and materials to

promote conversation and real

exchanges of ideas has made

him a national leader in using

the humanities to strengthen

communities.

We are thrilled that Adam

will join the Oregon Humanitiesboard and staff as we engage

in a visioning process that will

define the organizations work

over the coming years, which

will include expanding our

statewide reach. I hope youll

join me this fall in warmly

welcoming Adam, his wife,

Hana, and their two children

to Oregon.

October 23: Serve Your Country with Karl

Marlantes, author ofMatterhorn: A Novel of theVietnam WarandWhat It Is Like to Go to War, andCameron Smith, director of the Oregon Depart-

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La Grande High School student Jon Ault


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Oregon Humanities8

community would measure their happiness.

Inspired by Harriss work, she and a group of

students, including fellow Idea Lab alumni

Brian Bump and Cassiton Adelbai, began

interviews at La Grande High School.

Participants answer such questions as

what makes them happy and what one wish

they would make if they could, then have their

photo taken with their chosen number of bal-

loons. Its eye-opening, Babcock says. Thereare people Ive never talked to before and then

people Ive known forever whose answers were

completely unexpected.

In March, the project broadened its reach

to the wider La Grande community. Babcock

and her friends are visiting shopping areas and

other public places to find local people to inter-

view. When finished, they hope to turn the proj-

ect into an installation that will be displayed in

the towns central marketplace.

Babcock believes the project is important

for the future of her community. If we dont

consider happiness, we wont make much prog-

ress individually or as a community, she says.

Conversations about RaceRace and Change series asks tough questions

all over Oregon.

A, , diversitythe population is more than

90 percent white, according to the 2010 U.S.

Censusbut Amy Blossom, a librarian at Jack-

son County Librarys Ashland branch, says

hosting Oregon Humanities Conversation

Project events has oered her librarys patrons

a chance to look at important issues from dier-

ent perspectives.

Ashlandconsiders itself fairlyliberal and

open to all , Blossom says, Butduring our Con-

versation Projectevents discussion, some of the

participants said they hadnt experienced that.At W hite Out? The Future of Racial Diver-

sity in Oregon, led by Emily Drew, a Willamette

University professor and Conversation Project

2013 PublicProgram Grants

At its February meeting, the

Oregon Humanities board of

directors awarded $87,870 ingrants to twenty nonprofit

organizations throughout the

state for public programs that

create conversation about some

of Oregons most compelling

issues, including urban gentrifica-

tion, intercultural understanding,

and the immigrant experience.

7JTJUPSFHPOIVNBOJUJFTPSHGPS

more information about the

projects listed below (alphabeti-

cal by city).

t Chautauqua Poets and Writers

(Ashland): $5,000

tTrail Tenders (Baker City): $3,650

tCentral Oregon Community Col-

lege Foundation (Bend): $4,095

tDeschutes Public Library (Bend):

$5,000

tSouth Coast Folk Society and

Coastal Celtic Society (Coos Bay):

$1,000

tFriends of the Oregon Caves and

Chateau (Grants Pass): $6,000

tWashington County Museum

(Hillsboro): $6,000

tWallowa Land Trust (Joseph):

$4,000

tUnited Way of Jackson County

(Medford): $7,500

tArtists Repertory Theatre (Port-

land): $2,000

tCaldera (Portland): $2,000

tKnow Your City (Portland): $4,625

tMiracle Theatre Group (Portland):

$3,400

tOregon Council of Teachers of

English (Portland): $2,500

tOregon Cultural Access (Portland):

$6,400

tOregon Historical Society (Port-

land): $5,000

tOregon Jewish Museum (Port-

land): $5,000

tPortland Playhouse (Portland):

$5,000

tPortland State University and Mult-

nomah County Library (Portland):

$7,200

tColumbia Gorge Community Col-

lege (The Dalles): $2,500

Conversation Project leader Emily Drew

Idea Lab alumnus Lauren Babcock


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Oregon Humanities10

Not MachinesOregon Humanities donor Kathleen Saadat

receives a lifetime achievement award for her

work on human rights.

S , Saadat has been standing up for humanrights, even if that sometimes means sitting

down.

The first time I did anything, I refused to

go to the back of a bus in Nashv ille in 1947, she

says. Even as a little girl, Saadat has felt more

satisfied acting than waiting to be acted upon.

This call to act has resulted in a long career

of public service. In December 2012, sheretired from the City of Portland, where she

served as the diversity development/arma-

tive action manager, and was awarded the

Portland Human R ights Commissions inaugu-

ral Human Rig hts Award for Lifetime Achieve-

ment. To Saadat, the award recognizes a career

with various governmenta l agencie s focused

on armative action and human rights, and

service on numerous other boards and coun-

cils. In addition, the award highl ights her role

as conduit: I think everyone contributes

to what I do, and Im the spokesperson, she

says. As she moves into a more advisory role,

she hopes the generations that follow hers will

learn the history of the issues and the eorts

of the past.

Things arent going to be the same today as

they were in 1786 or 1952, but there are threadsof similarity that may help with the contem-

porary problem, Saadat says. [Going] to t he

people who did it before them and asking how

they did it and what to look for would help

them develop strategies that are relevant to

their time.

In the decades since her first act of civil dis-

obedience, she has seen eorts wax and wane.

People do things in spurts, Saadat says. They

get motivated and act, and when it looks like

things are getting better they relinquish power.

That is a mistake. Activism needs to be relent-

less; people need to keep the fires burning.

Saadat has supported Oregon Humanities

since 2008. We are not machines, she says.

Math and science are great if theyre in the

context of human beings learning math and

science to help human beings. The humani-

ties play into our ability to continue to recre-

ate ourselves and our world in a way that helps

all of us.

Enjoy reading about howOregon Humanities changes

lives and transforms

communities?

Help us keep telling these stories.

Visit oregonhumanities.org

to make a gift or mail a check

using the envelope included in

this magazine.

ERINROOK,PQMONTHLY


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Oregon Humanities12


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L , 3 , 2 .In the preceding verses weve learned that Moses killed astranger, skipped town because of it, stumbled upon seven sis-ters watering their fathers flocks, was g iven one of the sisters

as a wife, and had a child with her. (Things happen fast in the

Bible.) The narrative then slows down, however, to deliver one

of the Bibles most indelible images: watching over his father-

in-laws flock near the mountain of Horeb, Moses notices

something odd: And the angel of the Lord appeared to him

in a flame of fire out of the midst of a bush; and he looked and

lo, the bush was burning, yet it was not consumed. And Moses

said, I will turn aside and see this great sight, why the bush is

not burnt. When he investigates, it turns out the great sight

is there because God has a couple things he wants to say. First,

take your shoes o, Moses, youre on holy ground. Second, the

Egyptians are mistreating the Israelites, so I want you to go lead

the Israelites out of Egypt. Now.

Anyone who had a childhood filled with church a nd Sunday

school knows biblical passages like these possess much that can

be unpacked, interpreted, disputed, reinterpreted, set to song, or

adapted for the stage as a n awkward childrens play. This passage,

though, is particularly challenging. Why does God not appear

to care that Moses killed a man? How does an unpunished mur-

derer still get to be a hero of the Bible? Moses argues, at length,

that hes not the right man for this job. Why does he get to ques-

tion God? And there is, of course, the question most people won-der about first: Why a burning bush? And not just why a bush

rather than a tree or a waterfall, but why communicate this way

at all? The burning bush doesnt solve a prob-

lem or crisis. Its not consuming an obstacle or

warming anyone who is freezing. It is, strangely,pure spectacle: its sole purpose is to attract

Mosess attention and then, through the awe-

inspiring nature of the spectacle, to convince

Moses he should follow the dictates of the

entity responsible for this miraculous sight.

This is uncomfortable, because the strategy

behind this kind of communicationLook at

this! Isnt this amazing? Now do what I say!is

exactly the strategy we usually ascribe to what

we ca ll big media, and which most media

critics describe as bombastic, manipulative,

and deliberately opposed to the development

of critical thinking. In other words, its adver-

tising. And a God who feels the need to run

an advertisement for Himself is, at some level,

suggesting Hes not omnipotent. Hes worried

the primary demographic for His message

isnt paying attention, so He cooks up a little

razzle-dazzle. Mono-gods have, by definition,

a monopoly. They shouldnt have to advertise.

If Moses thought it was interesting the

burning bush wasnt consumed by its flames,

he would be knocked senseless by our currentsociety. Like the bush, television and the Inter-

netthey are the same thing, really, except

Burning BushesWhen it comes to attention-getting spectacles,

God is no longer the only game in town.


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Oregon Humanities14

that a fading stigma still vaguely attaches to

consumption of the formerburn constantly,

but are never consumed. We are entirely sur-

rounded by burning bushes these days, in the

form of flickering screens that, like the bush,

are not consumed by their glowing and shift-

ing. They flash nonstop, always requesting our

attention, and once we grant that attention,

they try to get us to follow whatever personal-

ity, show, or network is supposedly behind their

fantastic images. We have hundreds of channels

of burning bush, and an Internet full of posts

about or videos of burning bush, beneath which

people comment about how lame those partic-ular flames were (burnFAIL!), or post links to

where we c an see more burning bushes, super

hot bushes, too hot to see here! Its traditional

to claim that its only the first season ofBurning

Bushthe one with Moses on the mountain

that was good, and all subsequent seasons or

spinos are of decreasing quality. This is the

Judeo-Christian reading of spectacle, which

suggests that spectacle originally existed to

announce the presence of divine power and

all other uses are the mischief of false idols. To

suggest that the original instances of spectaclesignaled the presence of the divine is to ignore

the fact that, really originally, it probably didnt.

There were burning bushes before the Burning

Bush, and they were undoubtedly spectacular,

because they were part of a forest that was actu-

ally on fire. What these spectacles signaled to

the hunter-gatherer tribes roaming the Earth

at the time was that everyone needed to get

away from there.

We obv iously cant know what our hunter-

gatherer ancestors thought or feltwhether

they were monotheists, pantheists, or just felt

the planet was a strange place where weird

things were always happening, and then you

died. What is consistent, though, is that some-

thing can strike us as spectacular only if we

feel there is some kind of awe-inspiring power

behind its presence. A burning busheven if

its not consumed by its flamesis just a burn-

ing bush. Its only when in response to it we

think, This is the result of powerful forces at

work, that it becomes spectacular. Thats only

the first part of Mosess response, thoughitsonly the I will turn aside and see this great

sight moment, in which the spectacular

draws his attention away from the mundane, everyday work of

flock-watching. The second half of Mosess responsewhy the

bush is not burntis important, too, because Moses doesnt

just recline on a bluto passively watch and enjoy the burning

bush. He investigates why and not only investigates but also

upon hearing from God that he is now supposed to lead the Isra-

elites out of Egypt, responds with questions. When he gets his

audience with Pharaoh, he asks, who is he supposed to say sent

him? Why wont Pharaoh just think hes a wacko? This is going to

involve a lot of talk ing, too, which Moses says hes not good at, so

why not give this job to someone else? God, testy in the way most

directors or CEOs get when their vision is questioned, assures

Moses there will be plenty of special eects to convince every-

one of the veracity of the whole thing, and that talking wont bea problem, because God will be feeding Moses his lines. Moses

takes the job and Exodus proceeds from there, with God pull-

ing out all the stops: massive livestock deaths, rampant disease,

plagues of frogs and gnats, etc.

It may seem impertinent of Moses to have questioned God

(and if you imagine John C. Reilly as Moses and Will Ferrell

as God, the scripture doesnt require any tweaking to play as

funny), but any marketing expert will tell you that provoking

audience questions about the project behind the spectacle is the

whole point of the spectacle. No one thinks something is must-

see TV when theyve never seen it, so the first step in your jour-

ney toward watching a show about drug dealers in Baltimore willhave to be you saying, But why would I want to watch a show

about drug dealers in Baltimore? Its only laterprobably after

season threethat you will shift not only to no longer question-

ing the project but also to proselytizing on its behalf.

Spectacle, then, is an invitation to an experience. And just

as Moses found the burning bush diverting but had reserva-

tions about the experience the bush wanted him to commit to,

we, too, know the quality of the advertisement is not necessarily

related to the quality of the product it advertises. Our knowl-

edge is more likely the result of learning there can be a world

of dierence between what exercise equipment looks like in an

infomercial and what it looks like in our living room, but Mosess

questions are essentially ours, because we know there are pretty

much three possibilities. The first is the one that Mosesand

weare most afraid of: we see something spectacular and decide

to invest our time and energy in the experience it advertises, but

then discover that the experience is kind of dumb. This angers

most people, because they then consider the spectacle to have

been false advertisingthe entity behind the burning bush

turns out to be not only far from divine but also in fact totally

inept. Sometimes, through some chicanery, an entity s blucan

be maintained from behind the curtain for a while, though this is

ultimately more infuriating, since it lures us into becoming evenmore invested in something that is still going to end in nothing.

If we consider the literal use of the word investment, this is the


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Mado-style Ponzi scheme. The narrative equivalent is the show

whose viewers, to be fair, were warned in the very title what was

going to become of the time and emotion they invested: Lost.

There is no reason to associate only negative outcomes

with spectacle, however. T he oppositespectacle advert ising

an experience that, when we sign on and become involved, we

actually do experience as powerful and movinghappens all the

time, too. A television show advertised as particularly absorb-

ing actually does turn out to be good; an exhibition the museum

claims is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity actually does leave us

with a sense of expanded possibilities for human expression; a

matchup advertised as the game of the year does turn out to be

enthralling, with incredible plays, reversals of momentum, and

moments of suspense; a band profiled in the weekend magazine,chatted with on the radio ta lk show, and whose images have been

splashed across the Internetan entity who has, via a publicists

crafty timing and the culture industrys constant need for con-

tent, set so many bushes to burning that its impossible we would

fail to hear what they have to sayactually does turn out to have

recorded an album that transforms the mood and feel of our sur-

roundings as we listen to it over and over again. There are many

talented people and compelling events in our world, it turns out,

and many of them advertise their existence or arrival via various

forms of spectacle.

That, of course, is why what s dicult these days is a problem

Moses does not appear to have had: there are just so many enti-ties now setting so many bushes ablaze. It is only the very lucky

or the strategically vacationing who find quiet meadows where

one can watch ones flock in peace. The rest of us have a bush

that burns and chatters on our desk at work, another in our liv-

ing room at home, one in our car, and yet another in our pocket

or purse that shakes and screeches every so often. The sheer

amount of smoke that clouds our daily landscape, and the voices

shouting over each other from every fire, can quickly have us

condemning the entire babbling conflagration and cursing who-

ever started it all. If youre being biblical about it, of course, it

was God Himself, though because I believe its a sin to curse God,

I choose to believe He doesnt exist and that the whole tradition

was probably started by a hunter-gatherer who did a short fire

dance for the clan one night as a way of advertising that he would

be doing another, much bigger fire dance down by the river on

the night of the full moon, which you could attend for five shiny

stones or the donation of a handful of grain.

Its common for parents to have media-consumption rules

for their kidstheyre only allowed two hours a day of chatting

with burning bushes, the bushes are filtered so that the content

of their babbling remains age-appropriate, all burni ng bushes

must be extinguished after 8:00 p.m., etc.but we should prob-

ably apply these rules to ourselves, as well. Everyone talksabout limiting media consumption because the culture indus-

trys unceasing sale of instant gratification via cheap thrills

or (what is probably worse) banal, depend-

ably marketable clichs of serious thinking

(political talk shows, historical Hollywood

movies, insightfu l TED talks, etc.) render our

responses to the world first predictable, then

rigid, and eventually devoid of any thought at

all. That may or may not be true. In defense of

mass mediaits vain to suggest mass media

even needs or requires a defense from me, since

these words are no more than a puof smoke

that will shortly disappear, but nevertheless

its not as if thoughtless, rigid, or reflexive

thinking arose only post-WWII. I am, after

Whats dicult thesedays is a problem Mosesdoes not appear to have

had: there are just somany entities now settingso many bushes ablaze.


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Oregon Humanities16

all, supposedly still talking about the situation

in which some entity actually delivers on the

promise made by its burning bush or bushes.

So why not acknowledge that its entirely pos-

sible, as some bestselling nonfiction writers

have argued in their easily consumable, single-

idea, bestselling nonfiction books whose sales

were boosted when Terry Gross inter viewed

them and Costco decided to carry the titles,

that despite the mind-numbingly repetitive

banality of our mass media, the sheer volume

of ideas and attitudes we are asked to con-

sider and possibly like every daythe sheer

number of bushes ablaze beside every path we

walkis somehow instructive. Am I a smarterperson for having watched, out of order and at

random between the ages of six and sixteen,

Attempting to livewhile constantly

surrounded by

spectacle is not aquality problem, its a

quantity problem.

probably every episode ofI Love Lucy, Leave It to Beaver, and

M*A*S*H, among other shows? Or were the five times I watched

Psys Gangnam Style video last fall actually more beneficial,

cerebrally, since the YouTube sensation challenged my mind by

sharing zero of my cultural assumptions about what is good or

makes sense? They say its possible.

Thats what I heard, at leastI didnt have time to actually

read those books. Which is why a better reason for limiting the

number of burning bushes we investigate may have nothing to

do with whether the bushes are oering smart or dumb experi-

ences. There are fancier terms for what Im referring to here, but

Ill just go with the first that occurs to me: world-weariness. In

other words, attempting to live while constantly surrounded by

spectacle is not a quality problem, its a quantity problem. I know

Terry Gross is smart, a good interviewer, and a valued figure inthe media landscape; Im also tired of her, because she has been

chattering for years. How am I to reconcile that I like and respect

her and also wouldnt mind if I never heard her voice again? Life

as navigation of truly unceasing spectacular intervention is a

recent experiencesome may feel spectacles victory was only

just completed with the advent of smart phonesso its tough

to know if were going to get stupider or, if smart phones are just

palm televisions and the TV is good for you theorists are right,

just that much smarter. Either way, the dynamic under consid-

eration here didnt used to be social, but was instead primarily

personal. In other words, the voice we love and value but never-

theless become sick to death of is supposed to be our own voice. Ilike myself, but there are also moments when I would like to dig

my fingers into my skull, rip out my intellect, and dash it upon

the rocks, because I am simply tired of hearing both my external

and internal responses. Like other tiresome phenomenagrav-

ity, Lady Gagathey are predictable and follow me everywhere.

Moses, though, does not express fatigue at the sight of the

burning bush. The whole point is that he has never seen some-

thing like this before. That he finds it novel is clear; we could

speculate that its also perhaps a welcome relief from repeti-

tive thoughts about flock-watching or guilty thoughts about the

homicide he committed. The burning bush, in other words, is

both legitimateit actually is a message from Godand some-

thing Moses is interested in investigating. Its the second half

of that equationhaving the time and energy to actually want

to investigate somethingthat a landscape of constant spec-

tacle risks bludgeoning out of us. Its traditional to ascribe low

voter turnout to apathy or ignorance. We have now entered an

era in which political campaigns become so protracted, the

televised debates so silly, and the Internet so full of breathless

babbling about them that people consider skipping voting not

out of apathy, but because they have become so sick to death

of every single political narrative, spin, counter spin, posture,

and calculated non-posture that they suer what campaignmanagers and analysts call voter fatigue: they just dont want

to be a part of it anymore. Its a bit like the parents who spend


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23/48


ILLUSTRATIONBYJENWICK

Fearful BeautyEmbracing both the wonder and terror of awe

n the scorched New Mexico desert, the summer of 1945, J.

Robert Oppenheimer, a leading physicist in the Manhattan

Project, witnessed the first detonation of an atomic bomb. In

response to this world-changing event, Oppenheimer quoted from

the sacred Hindu text the Bhagavad Gita: Now, I am become Death,

the destroyer of worlds.

I


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Oregon Humanities24

In rare moments when we witness a spec-

tacle of overwhelming force or power that is

beyond our control or direction, we experience

transcendence. In bearing witness to some-

thing greater than ourselves, we move to a dif-

ferent realm of consciousness. Perhaps we do

not interpret our identity as divine or demonic

as Oppenheimer did, but in a heightened state

of self-consciousness, we are aware that the

external world has been shattered beyond rec-

ognition or healing and the world of our self

has been irrevocably transformed. We have

crossed a threshold, and there is no going back.

Oppenheimers new identity is not so much

hubris as a kind of existential reality.

The momentary self-transcendence expe-

rienced by Oppenheimer is complemented bythe lifelong reflection of Albert Einstein on the

structure of the cosmos. Einstein claimed that

true art and science were joined through their

origins in the wonder of mystery and the real

existence of the inexplicable that is manifested

to us through wisdom and beauty. He writes:

He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who

can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt

in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed.

Moreover, Einstein says, religion is necessarily

intertwined with these sentiments: This in-

sight into the mystery of life, coupled though itbe with fear, has also given rise to religion. In

their fusion of wonder as well as fear, the awe-

full with the awful, the awe with the shock

of a nuclear explosion, Einstein and Oppen-

heimer give voice to what religious scholars

describe as the ambivalent characteristics of

the human response to the sacred or holy.

Ambivalence is manifested in the myths

and rituals of various communities. It is em-

bodied in the shaman, who, through ecstatic

experience, accesses an extraordinary realm of

power and yet is also viewed by his or her cul-

ture with trepidation and apprehension. Also,

in the Bhagavad Gita, when Lord Krishna re-

veals his form to the warrior Arjuna, Arjuna is

filled with amazement, his hair bristling on his

flesh, and he comments, I am thrilled and yet

my mind trembles with fear. Examples of exis-

tential ambivalence to the sacred are prevalent

in Western monotheistic traditions, too. The

Exodus narrative begins when Moses is invited

by Yahweh to stand on holy ground, and Mo-

ses hid his face, for he was afraid to look uponGod. In Luke, every visitation of an angelic fig-

ure who brings good tidings of great joy in the

Christian testament is prefaced by the comment, Be not afraid.

Even the shepherds to whom the birth of Christ is announced

and who witness the divine glory are filled with fear.

Einsteins understanding of wonder and awe in the pres-

ence of mystery was unquestionably influenced by his German

contemporary Rudolf Otto. He uses the language ofmysterium

tremendum and fascinans to designate a primal and irrational

experience of the holy or sacred. The mysterium, or mystery, re-

fers to an encounter with a reality beyond our comprehension,

and our capacity to fully conceptualize and linguistically ex-

press, or in Einsteins language, it is impenetrable to our cog-

nitive capacities. Beyond our ordinary experience of the other,

this reality is wholly other, extraordinary and radically unfa-

miliar. Yet, the awful is simultaneously awe-full or fascinans; we

are also held fast, captivated and fascinated.

The experience of encountering reality as wholly other is

too overwhelming, too much beyond our control, too danger-ous to leave unrestrained, as it reveals our vulnerability and

fragility. Religious symbols, myths, rituals, and ethical values,

such as justice and love are prominent forms by which various

communities subject the mysterium to human control. In the

political context, we establish treaties and international con-

ventions to try to ensure that weapons of mass destruction are

not detonated. At a personal level, spectacles move us to reflect,

contemplate, and question our identity, nature, and purpose.

We confront the ultimate questions of life and being. The an-

swers are various (including the possibility that there is no an-

swer) and not restricted to religious tradition. The important

thing is asking the question.The elements of the sacralized spectacle cast into sharp re-

lief and critique the nature of spectacles that come packaged

for purposes of entertainment or curiosity. Marxist critic Guy

Debord asserts in Society of the Spectacle that this is a form of

cultural corruption. Debord contends that under the impact of

materialism and mass media, commodification and consump-

tion displaces relationships between persons. We are specta-

tors only, as the richness and possibilities of our lives are trun-

cated to commodities to be consumed, to entertainment that

purports to illustrate reality. The sentiments we experience

through this type of spectacle are not those of transcendence,

inspiration, awe, wonder, or beauty, but of revulsion, horror,

outrage, and schadenfreude. Even the language of awesome

has become so popularized that it represents a diluted, banal

form of appreciation of the ordinary.

At times, the features of the sacralized spectacle are ap-

propriated for political purposes and consequently corrupted.

Most egregiously, American political rhetoric portrayed the re-

lentless bombing that initiated the 2003 invasion of Iraq as a

campaign of shock and awe.

The shock and awe of aerial bombardment, intended to

hasten Iraqi capitulation, may have had visual appeal and pro-

vided high ratings for the media, but it diverted us from thepractical reality of what occurred out of sight: namely, destruc-

tion of infrastructure, a terrorized population, and death.


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Spectacles move us to reflect,contemplate, and question our

identity, nature, and purpose.

Political, communal, religious, and familial worlds were liter-

ally destroyed, but we didnt see that onscreen.

Unlike sacrilized spectacle, the spectacle of war creates

distance and removal that can lead to the corruption of moral

values and ethical rules. For example, in its reporting on April

13, 1861, of the Confederacy attack on Fort Sumter that initi-

ated the Civil War, theNew York Times writes, The excitement

of the community is indescribable. ... All day every available

place has been thronged by ladies and gentlemen, viewing the

spectacle through their glasses. Our national anthem similar-ly reflects this conception of war, through its language of the

rockets red glare [and] the bombs bursting in air. Even today,

we incorporate this understanding in our metaphor of various

theaters of war.

However, J. Glenn Gray in The Warriors probes the endur-

ing appeals of battle, including what he describes as a delight

in spectacle. Gray recognizes that modern weaponrys sophis-

tication and destructive force often permits warriors to become

spectators, witnesses who are distanced from the destructive

consequences of their actions. This distancing allows space for

what Gray calls a fearful beauty to become part of the war ex-

perience. In the astonishment, wonder, and awe that war can

elicit, the soldier as spectator can be separated from the specta-

cle and, especially, the suering created by the spectacle. If mo-

rality in part presupposes a human capacity for identification

with the suerers humanity, this capacity is diminished when a

person is distanced from the actual consequences of his or her

actions. Moral distancing is further reinforced by computer-

controlled attacks carried out by drones, sometimes with preci-

sion targeting and sometimes with indiscriminant devastation.

Moral distancing in war is made possible by our capacity for

self-transcendence and even, Gray contends, because of an ex-

perience of ecstasy, of a state of being outside the self. War isexperienced as greater than oneself, and yet there is a tremen-

dous cost to be paid for this delight in spectacle, a cost of moral

corruption. Gray observes, [The spectacle of

war] nearly always involves a neglect of moral

ideals and an absence of concern for the practi-

cal. If, as Immanuel Kant states, two primary

sources of awe are the starry heavens above

and the moral law within, those inner moral

commitments, so necessary to diminish the

brutality of war, can dissipate in the face of the

overwhelming power of destruction. Although

it may not be a necessary truth, the shock andawe of battle, bombardment, and warfare can

also destroy moral worlds; if a person is out-

side ones self, the moral law within cannot

be accessed. Three weeks after Oppenheimer

witnessed the spectacle of awesome power, the

United States dropped the first nuclear bomb

on Hiroshima against what was deliberately

chosen as dual target, that is, a target of both

military and civilian infrastructure. The moral

constraints on not harming civilians that have

been a longstanding part of the laws of war had

completely eroded.

In this way, warfare can become a morally

compromised surrogate for the experience of

both awe and dread in the face of spectacle. We

need only reflect on 9/11 to remember an ex-

perience of shock, horror, and awe-fulness.

Because of the proximity of the attack and the

visibility of the suering, spectators became

suerers and victims. I could only witness the

horror for so long, and then sought refuge in

the Cascades wilderness.

Few places are more nourishing of the senti-ment of awe than wilderness: the delicacy and

beauty of lilies and lupines, the cathedrals of


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Rodeo CityPendleton has built its identity around a

dogged loyalty to tradition.

I noted that Pendleton had broken the Gui n-ness World Record for most horses ever in

a parade, and after the F-16s shook sixteen-

thousand arena seats during a flyover, and after

the clowns guffawed over the names of the

champion stallions (Thunder Monkey, FrenchWake, Mued Cries, Nightmare Rocket)only

then could the rodeo begin.

I had a pass to the one-hundredth annual

Pendleton Round-Up in 2010, but Im not a ro-

deo fan. However, Id heard the Round-Up was

like Mardi Gras in a history museum, and that

sounded like an event I couldnt miss. I bor-

rowed a tent and got a Craigslist ride east from

Portland to Pendleton. Every ticket for the mas-sive show had sold out long before the big event,

and on that much-awaited rodeo day, the arena

Left: Hugh Strickland riding in the bucking

contest at an early Round-Up. Photo by

Thomas Leeander Moorhouse

Above: A rider at the 2011 Round-Up.

Photo by Team Hymas

)*4503*$"-*.

"(&4$0635&4:0'41&$*"-$0--&$5*0/4"/%6/*7&34*5:"3$)*7&460

-*#3"3*&4


28/48

Oregon Humanities28

was a bewildering sea of red, white, and blue and

cowboy hats. I didnt have the right boots, belt

buckle, or family history to elbow my way to an

empty seat, so I leaned against a metal railing

that vibrated with the cheers of the crowd. The

first cowboys saddled up, heading onto the grass

and dirt to do the exact same thing cowboys had

done every year since 1910.

Every year, the town of 17,000 pulls oan

event that attracts 50,000 outsiders and brings

to the area an estimated $50 milliontriple

the citys annual general fund. It seems likeeveryone in town, even the surly teens, has vol-

unteered for the event in some capacity.

The Pendleton Round-Up is one of the

biggest rodeos on the continent and the one

thats most committed to not budging an inch

from tradition. Sure, the organizers had to nix

the stagecoach race when the town ran out of

spare stagecoaches, and women are no longer

given a free t-shirt if they flash the bartender

at the under-the-grandstands saloon (the Let

er Buck Room), and the rodeos wooden arena

now sports a Jumbotron. But thats pretty

much the end of the newfangled stu. The ro-

deo has a special exemption from the Profes-

sional Rodeo Cowboys Association to keep

running events just the way theyve been run

for decades, and the town revels in repeating

history to a tee the first week of every Septem-

ber. Repetition has become such a core part ofthe week-long rodeo and accompanying festivi-

ties that for the 2010 centennial event, the local

newspapers headline happily declares that the

festival Celebrates Tradition with Tradition.

In Pendleton, tradition is an ever-present

fact of life, but its also a tool, both a commercial

one aimed at tourists and a social one used to

build local identity. Tradition is integral to the

towns identity, which is based on the deeply

held notion that Pendleton is a special place,

unique from its neighbors Hermiston and Wal-

la Walla; its a little town with history worth lov-ing and repeating. Nowhere is this social and

financial use of tradition more apparent than

in the annual Round-Up, which has stayed sur-

prisingly the same despite transforming over

the decades from one of a thousand small-town

rodeos to a genuinely jaw-dropping American

spectacle. Tradition is what keeps the town

afloat and the rodeo astounding.

As we all spend our lives learning, though,

there is no stopping time. Days roll on, years

roll on, old-timers die, horses become ob-

solete, trains stop running, ranches become

retro, kids move away to the big city, and small

towns hollow out. Though Pendleton bands

together to host the same picture-perfect ro-

deo every year, change has crept in to the city.

Pendletons population of young people is

declining, and many downtown institutions

have closed: the movie theaters, the shoe store,

the two big banks that stand grand and empty

facing each other across Main Street. Mean-

while, the economy of the nearby Confeder-

ated Tribes of the Umatilla Indians Reserva-tion has grown, fueled by the construction of

the Pacific Northwests highest-paying casino

Above: Aerial view

of Pendleton. Gerald

Williams Papers, Oregon

State University Libraries

Right: A Riata Ranch

Cowboy Girl at the 2008

Round-Up. Photo by

Donna Lasater


29/48


(and golf course, museum, and cineplex), and

the outer ring of the city has suburbanized

over recent decades with the arrival of such

chain stores as Walmart.

Peter Walters is one of the young people

whos stuck around. His parents and grandpar-

ents live in Pendleton, and hes taken up the

cause of restoring the Rivoli, an old movie the-

ater downtown, which was almost demolished.

Pendleton has struggled with balancing

its tourist Western identity with its desire for

modern, successful chains and a more diverse

economy, says Walters, whospeaking of a di-

verse economyalso runs a rock and roll camp

for teens. The chamber of commerce tagline

used to be The Real West! Now its Rich tra-

dition, fine craftsmanship, legendary reputa-tion, In one line, theyre trying to say that good

things are made here, its hospitable, and the

same things happen every year.

Some institutions have stuck around, too,

in large part because of that identity of tradi-

tion. Tourists and locals alike love to spend a

few bucks at the oldest business in town, the

Rainbow Cafe, whose walls are lined with one

hundred years of photos of rodeo champions.

Typical of the Rainbow, the bar has not turned

oits flamboyant neon sign in seventy years

according to a local newspaper report, the signdoesnt even have an oswitch. The aging sign

is maintained by the son of the guy who in-

stalled it. Thats how things work in Pendleton.

The first Pendleton Round-Up in 1910 was

a rare chance for people to show o in front

of each other. In those days, the roads were

dusty and people had callused hands from

grinding away at their long hours work, day

after day, year after year, sunrise to sunset.

They paused to gather from their lonely Or-

egon ranches for dances, whiskey, and church.

A group of young business entrepreneurs

whod caught a seat at Bualo Bills Wild West

show proposed hosting a festival that would

allow the working ranch hands to do tricks in

front of a crowd, to build friendships with the

local Native Americans, and to maybe make a

few bucks for the city, too.

When it started, the Round-Up was not a

professional venture, but an event that en-

shrined cowboy fun as sport. When they got

bored of bulls and horses, competitors rode

feisty bualo. It was, as current Round-UpMarketing Director Randy Thomas puts it, a

wild and wooly time.

Even then, though, the freewheeling rodeo

harkened back to a noble tradition. Its first

promotional materials pitched the festival asa frontier exhibition of picturesque pastimes.

The key word of the rodeo was and remains

authenticity, and the 1910 Round-Up aimed to

recreate a version of the already idolized Wild

West. Pendleton has repeated the act every

year for 103 years, hardening those images of

the past into honored tradition and creating

a narrative that imbues even the most absurd

acts with meaning.

As an outsider leaning over the metal rail-

ing to watch dangerous and dicult events, I

found parts of the rodeo absurd: I watched a

man tie a horses genitals with a strip of leather,

climb on its back, throw one hand in the air, and

hold on for an arbitrary number of seconds be-

fore he was rescued by clowns. But when done

in an arena, with a whole city watching, the

weight of one hundred years of the same action

ghosted behind him, suddenly the bizarre and

arguably inhumane act had power. Instead of

just being a man, some clowns, and a horses ill-

treated reproductive organs, what I witnessed

was a story of a towns identity and a way of lifethat people for generations have looked to for

values and inspiration.

Jane Bernoudy, Western

show performer and silent

film actress, spins rope at

the1913Round-Up. Photo byWalter S. Bowman


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Unforgiven, UnforgottenThe long shadow of a prank made public

ILLUSTRATIONBYCAROLYNRICHARDSON

Amonth before Barack Obama was elected president of the United States, whenthe campaign was a dead heat with John McCain, I ensnared myself in stupid,late-night hijinks that landed me on front pages nationwide and nearly in prison in

the rural Midwest.

At the time, I was a visiting profe ssor at St.

Olaf College in Northfield, Minnesota, and had

recently read Thomas Franks Whats the Matter

with Kansas, in which he discusses how conser-

vative politicia ns of ten da ngle social issueslikegay rights, abortion, and gun controlas red-meat

bait to lure voters away from considering how the

Republican Partys fiscal stances on taxes and

corporate subsidies are of ten detrimental to low-

income and rural voters. That theory seemed to be

playing out with the voters in Minnesota who had

consistently supported Democratic candidates forpresident since 1932, but were, in 2008, leaning

toward John McCain.


32/48

Oregon Humanities32

My girlfriend and I had spent a warm Indian

summer evening at stock car races in rural Min-

nesota. Driving back that night, it was impossible

not to see that the two-lane highways crisscross-

ing central Minnesota were lined with McCain

Palin signs. We were driving along Highway 19,

a lonely stretch of road that reaches through

farmland and into the small college town of

Northfield. Suddenly, my girlfriend squealed

out, Stop!

I pulled over to the gravel shoulder, and she

dashed from the car, yanked out a small blue

McCain lawn sign from a front lawn, and dived

back into the car. Drive, she ordered.A mile later, we repe ated the same drill.

Another mile farther down the road, we saw a

lawn sign that only a rural home could accommo-

date: nearly the size of a billboard, the sign domi-

nated a small hill. I drove by once and could see

at least one light on inside the house. As a safety

feature, newer models of Subarus do not allow

the driver to leave the engine runningandto turn

oall exterior lights. The parking lights burned

orange as I hustled up the small grass embank-

ment. Inside, I could see a TV flickering blue light.

I reached the sign and, for the first time,recognized its sublime size. It stood as tall as

I. Wrapping my hands tighter around the stake

as if I were a Little Leaguer stepping to bat for

the first time, I squatted, thrusting my legs. The

post resisted for a strained, frozen moment and

then released. I considered running away right

then, leaving the sign crippled. But I grabbed the

other post and yanked, dragging the sign behind me as I ran. I

drove away with the hatchback yawning open and the sign hang-

ing out over the back bumper.

It was nearly midnight when we drove past the college and

arrived at the three-block stretch of downtown. We tossed the

three signs into a dumpster behind a Chinese restaurant, snapped

a photograph, and went back to my rented, single-story house.

Over the next week, I told a few friends about the prank, includ-

ing the chair of the Media Studies Department. That couldand

shouldhave been it; the lawn-sign-stealing event of 2008 could

have passed gently into that night, a story Id tell friends now and

again after a few beers. But, over the previous several years, I had

built a certain portion of my career around making a public jack-

ass of myself.For instance, in 2004 I campaigned for mayor of Portland

primarily as a P.T. Barnumtype st unt to promote a newspaper I

had recently helped launch with the guys who started the Onion.

And, a few months later, for our Halloween issue, I buried our

music editor alive (with his consent) and dressed up our dist ribu-

tion manager as a zombie, letting him roam Pioneer Square and

Lloyd Center mall to test outand write an essay abouthow

numb the American public had become.

When, after six years, I left my position as the managing edi-

tor at thePortland Mercury, I posed for the cover of my final issue

wearing nothing but a hard hat a nd womens lacy black panties,

and holding a massive nail gun; 40,000 copies of the issue werepicked up around Portland, and the image lingered on the Internet

for years.

If nothing else, I have learned that the first rule of public spec-

tacle is, of course, that the spect acle must have an audience. Moti-

vated by what now seems like a form of Tourettes or a byproduct

of vanity or a combination thereof (which anyone who has posted

on Facebook while drunk can understand), I contacted an editor


33/48


atSalon and, over the next week, researched and wrote an essay

about lawn-sign stealing. I discovered that a few weeks before my

own sign-stealing escapade, a teenager had been shot trying the

same stunt in Indiana. I also found YouTube clips featuring Ari-

zona residents who had plugged in their Obama signs to electro-

cute anyone who touched them.

But what I hadnt yet learned was the second rule of public

spectacle, which is that the means of communication dont neces-

sarily justify the message. In his textbookMaking Sense of Media

and Politics, professor Gadi Wolfsfeld clearly lays out the liabilit y

for using political stunts to elbow ones way into the media part y:

Another problem of getting in the news through the back dooris that even if youve only put on a weird costume to get in, youre

not allowed to change clothes once you get inside. So there you are

being filmed in a Polar Bear costume to protest global warming:

You want to talk about the environment, and the reporters keep

asking you about the costume.

In writing that essay, I contacted both the Obama a nd McCain

field oces, and interviewed campaign workers about the scope

of lawn-sign stealing. I wrote what I thought was a thoughtful

consideration about the need to participate in politics in a man-

ner more visceral than merely casting a single vote, while also

acknowledging that Id committed a juvenile prank. I wrote:

Unlike stealing a lawn gnome or a plastic pink fla-

mingo, I admit, steali ng a lawn sign is a more heinous

crime. There is moral and ethical guilt. I believe in

free speech, a nd also believe and encourage political

expression. I guess I could argue that I was flexing my

free expression to say shut up.But that would put

me at the same low-level of political discourse as Bill

OReilly, who consistently steamrolls over anyone

who disag rees w ith him.

Yet, as much as I tried to dress up my essay in respectabilityand journalism, I was showing up to the 2008 elections wearing

an ill-fitting jesters outfit.

Two weeks before Election Day, as Obama

slowly pulled ahead of McCain in the polls, I

turned in my essay to an editor atSalon. Imme-

diately, he suggested that I remove my girlfriend

from the narrative and simply tell the story as if

I had been pulling out lawn signs alone that eve-

ninga concession that would have been enough

to sound alarm bells for most reasonable people,

but more tha n once has my personality been

compared to a golden retriever who goes through

life happy-go-lucky, not noticing that his wag-

ging tail is smashing up lamps in the living room.I edited the essay and resubmitted it to the

editor. But, even so, concerned about legal liabili-

ties, the online maga zine decided not to publish

it. There was a precedent for such concern: eight

years ea rlier, in 2000, Dan Savage, then-editor

for Seattles weeklyThe Stranger(sibling to the

Mercury), had written an essay forSalonin which

he described how, when sick with the flu while

volunteering for an anti-gay Republican candi-

date, he licked doorknobs at the campaign oce

in an attempt to infect the sta. The stunt landed

Savage in jail for several days andSalon experi-

enced threats of legal repercussions (though

these were minor and hollow).

Even with this second warning about legal

repercussions, I t urned around and submitted

the essay to theHungton Report. The editors

were eager for incendiary pieces, and the essay,

Confessions of a Lawn Sign Stealer, ran promi-

nently the Friday morning before Election Day.

Wit hi n hou rs , I re ceived se ver al hun-

dred angry emails and phone calls, including

three death threats. A man in Michigan yelledat me over the phone, calling me sick and

demented, and informing me that he was going

The lawn-sign-stealing event of 2008 could

have passed gently into that night, a story Id

tell friends now and again after a few beers.


34/48

Oregon Humanities34

to go steal ten times as many Obama signs in

retaliation. A man f rom Texas, who described

himself as a 29-year-old, 250-pound Repub-

lican, called me little Phillip and offered

to whoop my ass. A man in California told

me to go play a long game of go hide and f uck

your self, and warned that he was planning

to exercise his Second Amendment right.

Another ma n from Spr ingfield, Oregon, left a

voicemail message calling me despicable and

informing me that he would hunt me down if

I returned to Oregon. Clearly, whatever mes-

sage I had intended about visceral participa-

tion in politics was completely eclipsed by the

messenger. In hindsight, this would be the

third principle of public spectacleand one

that I was long overdue to have learned.

Ten years earlier, while living in San Fran-

cisco, I had followed the antics of a group of

veteran protestors from the WTO street demon-

strations who were staging a series of pie-in-the-

face protests against prominent Bay Area public

figures, including CEOs, political figures, and a

CalBerkeley dean. They spiked their press con-

ferences with such declarations as, It is a good

day to pie, concluded interviews with pie-pie,

andwith lead stories on National Public Radio

and a front-page article in theNew York Timeswere satisfying the first tenet of public spectacle

by scoring national attention.

It is the fourth tenet of public spectacle

that has had the most lasting effect on me:

to misquote Neil Young, it is better to be

forgotten than forgiven.

But those antics ceased to be amusing when the Bay Area

squad hit the dapper Willie Brown, then-mayor of San Fra ncisco,

in the face with three pies. The mayors assistant tackled one of

the protesters, a willowy blonde woman, so hard that he cracked

her collarbone. (Ultimately, each protester was sentenced to six

months jail time.)

In the flurry of media coverage that followed, the original

intent of the pie tossers was lost. According to aMother Jones

profile, on the day of the attack, forty dierent news outlets

covered the incident, but less t han a dozen mentioned what the

activists were protestingthe Bay Areas upper crust and the

treatment of the homeless.

Just a few hours after my essay was published, the Rice County

Sheriarrived at the doorstep of my house in Northfield. It was

a day before Halloween and unseasonably warm. We sat outside,

crouching on the concrete stoop. He explained that he did not

plan to arrest me, even though his oce had been swamped with

requests to do so. He told me there would be a criminal tria l, and

he hoped I would cooperate.

I just published a confession, I told him drolly.

So, youre not going to deny it? he asked. I dont need to get

a search warrant for your computer?

I shook my head and told him about the death threats. He

nodded gravely, suggested that I pack an overnight bag, and

kindly escorted me to an undisclosed location for the subse-

quent forty-eight hours.

That weekend, the media hoopla amplified, with stories trend-

ing on Fox, CNN,Drudge Report, and a front-page piece, above thefold, in Minnesotas dailyStar Tribune. It was the lead story on

two local TV outlets, and the City Pages, the popular weekly paper


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Oregon Humanities40

Grand Champion Pen of Three

I for the eight-hour drive to the NationalWestern Stoc k Show in Denver. Ever y Janu-

ary, folks from all over the world descend on

the twenty acres oI-70 to take in the sights,

sounds, and smells of the worlds largest live-stock show and rodeo.

My husband and sons unloaded the bulls at

the stockyard gate while I checked us in at yard

oce and got the pen number, 1618. They tied

the bulls to the rails in the alley outside the pen

and then went back to haul the clipping chute,

tack box, buckets, rakes, forks, and shovels, as

well as grain and bales of hay and straw. I spread

the straw and hooked the blow dryer up, ready

for the first bull to return from the wash rack. A

large four-by-eight-foot sign, attached to the top

pen rail, displayed our ranch name. Attired incoveralls, we went about chores until each one

of the three bulls lay comfortably in the straw.

On our walk to the hill for lunch, we stopped

to inspect breeds we had seen only in print:

Simmentals, Chianina, Tarentaise, and Lim-

ousins. The stock show was the place to gain

new information on horse and cattle breeds and

bloodlines. You could attend a cowboy poetry

session or view paintings, carvings, framed

photographs, handmade saddles, and jewelry.

Hubbys final hair clipping that afternoon

was interr upted by a breeder wanting him to

pull out one of the bulls for a closer inspection.

Hubby and I glanced at each other with our

hopeful look. We needed to sell here to pay bills.

Attending the stock show promoted our herd,

which improved our sales at home.

In three days it was show time. We were up at

an insane hour to feed and groom the animals.

Our pen placed first in its age group. Yipee. We

smiled as we led our bulls to the arena for pho-

tos. As we led the bulls back, we saw a crowd

standing by our pen. The rancher who had vis-ited our pen on the first day walked over to my

husband and handed him a check.

The stock show spectacle is an advertising

space. Everyone had something to sell: live-

stock, products, or ideas.

. , Lakeview

Parade

A , finally w itnessed my towns Fourth of Julyparade. Previously, when neighbors asked if I

had seen the parade, I claimed to have forgotten

when it star ted, or ex plained that I had other

plans, but I was being dishonest. There are two

types of people: those who watch parades, and

those who are in them. In my deepest heart I

know I am the ty pe who wants to be in them, so

enduring 100-degree weather to watch other

people stroll past was never a priority.Last summer was different. First of all, it

was a cooler Fourthonly eighty degrees, with

a crisp breeze. Plus, eight years was the longest

I had lived anywhere. Parades, especially small-

town parades, serve as a mirror for a commu-

nitys soul. It was time to check out the local

celebration.

As expected, our parade had militar y bands,

school bands, pretty girls with royal sashes

perched on floats, and campaigning politicians.

Neighboring communities fire departments,

such as Odell and Parkdale, sent their fire

trucks to augment Hood Rivers flashing lights

and shiny chrome. Handsome roadsters put-

tered along the routeresidents of the antique

car museum out on a day passand vintage air-

planes from the same museum roared overhead

in formation.

A parade is a chance to be a bit silly, be a bit

proud, and for strangers to connect. You cannot

have a person, even a political candidate you

wholly detest, meet your eyes and wave at you

without smiling and wav ing back . In this case,its best to be kind, even if it smacks of hypocrisy.

Posts


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uneasy about participating in the same kind of

consumerism, commercialism, and false idol

worship that makes a mouse an icon the way

reality TV turns a woman named Snooki into

a celebrity. Im complicit in a culture that too

often lets pomp and circumstance devolve into

pop and circus.

Were next. The princesses compliment my

daughters dress and artwork, and then scrawl

loopy signatures next to the specialized figures

shes drawn. They hug her and pose. My daugh-

ter jumps up and down and claps her hands at

having met them. Theyve left their perfumed

scent in her hair.

The rest of the day, we spin in teacups, ride

in Dumbo, and ma rvel at the cavernousness of

Its a Small World. Dusk comes, the sky turnspurple, and Disneylands grand castle glows in

a lavender pink light. And at the end, we catch

the evening Soundsational Parade. Drums

beat, lights flash, and giant floats of Disney-

lands biggest stars roll out. When the princess

float approaches, I watch my daughters face

widen Look, she poi nts out, t hey re al l

together!each one, impossibly happy and

bright and blowing kisses as they wave goodbye.

, Tillamook

Our parade was inclusive, as anyone willing

to pay a ten-dollar fee could participate. One

group of equestrians represented a dude ranch,

another represented a Friesian breeding stable,

and others were merely sets of friends riding

their horses. More than one group represented

the growing Mexican American population,

with mariachi music and glossy horses trained

to prance.

As the sun turned my shoulders pink , I con-

sidered how Hood River could be fractured,

sometimes even schizophrenic. Between long-

time orchardi sts, Johnny-come-lately wind-

surfers, kiters, mountain bikers, and other

recreationalists, plus struggling small business

owners, a town meeting to discuss a waterfront

park can turn ugly. Yet on one designated sum-mer day, folks unite to celebrate all the facets

even the controversial onesthat comprise our

shared home.

, Hood River

Pilgrims to the Princesses

I , -year-old daughter draws stick figureprincesses with triangle skirts, right-angle

high-heeled shoes, and long lines of hair.

Rapunzel, Aurora, Ariel, Snow Whiteshesdrawn them all. Now we are just a few more

turns away in a cattle line at Disneyland to meet

them. With elaborate gowns, thick makeup,

and eyes twinkling beneath heavy eyelashes,

the princesses stand on top of bannered steps.

My daughter cranes her neck to see them pose

for photos with adoring fans. I love seeing my

daughters excitementher anticipation has

built to this buzzing crescendo since we started

the countdown weeks ago to meet the prin-

cesses. Im buzzing too, but for a dierent rea-

son, an internal dissonance: Im worried about

my daughters self-image and gender identifica-

tion with Disneys deliberately designed prin-

cess concept as I nonetheless wait in line with

her to meet each one.

Disneyland is all bold color, giant struc-

tures, loud music, constant movement, out-

sized life. Im impressed with the quality; the

park is clean, the cast members kind, and the

costumes well-made. Yet Im wary. Everyt hing

is fake, and the joythe buzzfound in the

happiest place on earth is a manufacturedjoy that wont last . In buying our tickets, Im

A statuette of the Eiffel Tower,

purchased from a street vendor

by Portland writer Brandi

Katherine Herrera on her first trip

to Paris, as a backpacking college

student. The city didnt much

resemble the Herreras romantic

preconceptions, so she bought

the miniature to remind herself

that, often, what we expect to

see and find, isnt anything like

what real life has to offer.

Photo by Kurt Hettle


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Oregon Humanities42

Burlesque

I . , , to Portland. Pasted on black-painted ply-wood next to the ticket window of the Star The-

ater is a poster of a figure w ith her legs in the air,

making adjustments to garments women dont

wear any more. It look s lik e a raunchy show

where nice girls like me ought never be seen.

This side of Burnside is where crimping

flourished, and it now hosts a revival of the racy

pageantry of burlesque. The Star saw its mid-century heyday as riotous club when notorious

burlesque queen Tempest Storms stage rivalry

wit h her husband s e x-wife made the gossip

column while the Rose Queen made front page.

Where the Rose Festiv al aspi res to wonder-

ment, with the Grand Floral Parade and coro-

nation hoopla, burlesque falls a seedy step short

of fame, landing in the lap of scandalous awe.

Ideally accompanied by a full orchestra and run-

way (as originated by the Brothers Minskey in

Prohibition era New York), and bookended by

a comedic double act (carried over to early film

by acts like Abbott a nd Costello), a burlesque

dancer mixes humor and titillation, remov-

ing as little as possible of her garments while

constantly captivating the audience. She often

embodies that stage-name persona with the

help of a gimmick (popularized by the redun-dant lyrics in Gotta Get a Gimmick from the

long-running Broadway musical Gypsy).

Portland is reputed to have the most strip

clubs per capita of any city in America, but the

art of striptease reaches beyond regionalism.

As patrons of the Portland Art Museums recent

Body Beautiful exhibit have seen, striptease is

ancient; Greek vases depict dancers in translu-

cent garments.

Americans seem to handle taboo best on a

large scale. While millions watch reality TV

and dirtier content from their homes, is com-ing to the theater to see a few winks and near-

nakedness tame by comparison?

Perhaps, but burlesque is public. In a cul-

ture of isolation, with the tragedy of a mundane

workweekthat is, if one has workis it any

surprise that nostalgic entertainment brings us

together as it did during the Depression? What

stories do we share otherwise but the collective

anxieties of the past year of shootings? Why

not a little spectacular nudity instead? To oset

the naughtiness and diculty of hiding interest,

burlesque audiences resound with unfettered

laughterand after all, laughter is the universal

cure-all.

.. , Portland

A Long and Thrilling Run

I 2 0 1 2 , -auditorium, a man in a navy blue flightjacket worked his way down an a isle crowded

with people. He looked like an ordinar y man

as he passed by, but he was not: he was anastronaut. We applauded Greg Chamito, who

began his talk with the fairy-tale words a year

continued from previous page

A Mardi Gras mask given to

Carole Shellhart, OHs interim

executive director and director of

finance and operations. Shellhart

has attempted to travel to New

Orleans for Mardi Gras three

times, only to have her plans fallapart each time. After the most

recent failure, a friend who did make

the trip sent this small piece of the

holiday spectacle as a consolation

prize. Photo by Kurt Hettle


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and a day ago He meant his words literally;

he was speaking to us i n Corvallis exactly one

year and one day after the final launch of the

space shuttleEndeavouron May 16, 2011. But

for me his words a year and a day evoked the

magic of NASAs spectacular fift y-three years

of existence and how the agency shaped my

American life.

My first NASA experience was in fourth

grade, when my class listened to the radio

broadcast of Alan Shepards flight. Fifteen

minutes after the launch, the c apsule success-

fully splashed into the Atlantic Ocean and we

cheered, believing America had triumphed

over Russia, a nation that terrorized our child-

hoods. Our teacher removed her glasses andwiped her eyes with a handkerchief, an act we

were unsure about and probably embarrassed

by. But over the following decades I continued

to experience NASA events as I had that day:

the stunning achievements that stirred up

powerful emotions and the camaraderie and

pride that brought us together.

Though Chamitowas not a celebrity like

those astronauts with household namesJohn

Glenn, Neil Armstrong, Sally Ridehe was a

heroic and in-the-flesh historic figure who had

come to tell us about NASAs penultimate mis-sion, the 134th flight of the Space Shuttle Pro-

gram. As a member of a six-person crew that

flew to the International Space Station to per-

form two weeks of assignments, he was given

three tasks that wrapped up NASAs work and

brought the program to a close. His talk was

peppered with the last this and the last that.

He had relayed the message Assembly com-

plete, thus declaring the end of construction

to the International Space Station that had

been built piece-by-piece by many nations

for over a decade. He outfitted the station

wit h it s fi nal piece of exterior equipment, an

inspection boom attached to a robotic arm.

He accomplished the task as a space walker.

Attached by the merest of tet hers, he wa s our

last astronaut to step out to work into the big,

black beyond.And when the Endeavour crew-

members said farewell to their international

colleagues and entered their craft to fly home,

Chamito, the last one in, closedEndeavours

hatch for the very last time in outer space.

The act concluded both Endeavours nineteenworkhorse-years of service and the thirty-year

Space Shuttle Program.

Listening to him speak, I was the one now

wiping my eyes, t hinking, Houston, we have

a problem.

, Corvallis

A Moment in the Sun

A .Whether it is a day game or a night game,when you wa lk out of the dark tunnel to your

seat the field lights up. I went ready to be daz-

zled, and I was, many times. Like the time in

1967 when two Baltimore pitchers pitched a no-

hitter. The Tigers still won on a walk, an error, a

sacrifice bunt, and two passed balls. Then there

was Norm Cashs t owering home run to theright field seats, when I outran dozens of k ids

to get the ball, and the doubleheader sweep of

the mighty Yankees.

Sometimes the highlights would move to

the stands. In 1972, the Tigers put together a

string of victories at the end of the season to

win its division. I a m convinced the victories

started on one hot August night. It was a hum-

drum game, and the Tigers were losing 7 to 2

in the seventh. As we prepared to leave we saw

the opposing catcher pointing down the left

field line. We saw his pitcher turn and we allwatched a heavyset ma n climb up the one-foot-

wide, yellow mesh-meta l foul pole. The ga me

stopped; the pole was waving u nder his weight.

Security guards raced over and everyone else

held their breath. At the top he inserted a little

Detroit Tigers pennant. The crowd went wild.

He survived a nd so did the Tigers, winning 9-7.

In 1960, my favorite player was Coot Veal. A

utility man. He was shaggi ng flies in right field

before the game as I was leaning over the rail-

ing in the upper deck. Every ti me he caught the

ball I would yell, Hey, Coot, throw me the ba ll.

I was relentless, haranguing him every time

a ball was directed toward him. The last prac-

tice ball was hit, Coot caught it, and I begged

for the ball. He turned and gently tossed the

ball up. I reached for it, had it in my hands, a nd

I heard the crowd sigh as I dropped the ball. I

remember looking to my left to see a woman

stare at me with pity. I honed back in on Coot

as he picked up the balI. I yelled, Hey, Coot,

throw it again.

He looked at me, shrugged his shoulders,and ran to the dugout.

, Portland

Next theme: Skin

For the summer 2013 issue of

Oregon Humanitiesmagazine,

we invite readers to send Posts

submissions on the theme

Skin. Writers may wish to

explore concepts such as the

body, race, and wellness

anything that focuses on the

physical side of being human

using history, literature, law,

politics, and any other discipline

of the humanities.

Send your submission (400

words maximum), by May 27,

2013, to posts@oregonhuman-

ities.org. Submissions may be

edited for space or clarity.


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Board of Directors

John Frohnmayer, Jefferson

Paul Duden, Portland

Ed Battistella, Ashland

Barbara Mahoney, Wilsonville

Sona Andrews, Portland

Stephen Marc Beaudoin, Portland

Matthew Boulay, Salem

Christine Dupres, Portland

Miriam Feuerle, Portland

David Gutterman, Salem

Rebecca Hartman, La Grande

Win McCormack, Portland

Pamela Morgan, Lake Oswego

Ron Paul, Portland

Chantal Strobel, Bend

Rich Wandschneider, Enterprise

Michele Wasson, Portland

Janet Webster, Newport

Dave Weich, Portland

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