A Night at the Opry

It’s still nearly an hour until the featured entertainers are scheduled to hit the Willamette High School stage, but already, vacant auditorium seats are disappearing fast. A dozen pickers, strummers, singers, and hummers dressed in snappy cowboy finery are tuning instruments under stage lights. Audience members trade polite banter, while backstage, performers rehearse harmonies and scrutinize set lists. Call me dizzy, but you can sense the spirit of Hank, Loretta, Willie, Dolly and Merle, Buck, Patsy, and yes, even Elvis, passing through the corridors.

For more than four years, the nonprofit Emerald Valley Opry has staged monthly shindigs showcasing the many varied strains of country music. Most EVO performers are local folks, but the Opry also draws acts from across the western states. A night at the Opry tends to reflect the organizers’ unembarrassed celebration of friendship, family, and the joys of traditional American music. And almost always, Opry music is dished up hot and sweet.

This particular Saturday, the EVO house band boasts a larger-than-usual talent pool. Stage hostess Beth Cummings tosses out gag lines cornier than a tank of bio-ethanol. Guitarist Nokie Edwards, formerly of The Ventures, taps glissando chords on his blond Fender just like you’d expect from a certified Rock & Roll Hall of Fame legend. Near center stage, singer-songwriter Bobby Gibson offers up a list of road-tested song suggestions to his band mates, while Ruthie Dills, a spry, 82-year-old former Grand Ole Opry songstress, shuffles across the stage toting her ukulele like a chanteuse in her prime. And this is only the warm-up act.

EVO musicians (and occasional comics, cowboy poets, and vaudeville performers) are all unpaid, as are the many dedicated EVO organizers and event supporters. A few local businesses sponsor the Opry and its fundraising efforts. Saturday night gate receipts finance music education in Bethel schools, student-musician scholarships, extracurricular school activities, and yearly food collections for the Eugene Mission. As Minnie Pearl might have quipped, “That’s a big, tasty bowl o’ taters y’all got there!”

BiMart buys ads for evo

For more information about the Emerald Valley Opry and its schedule of upcoming shows, visit emeraldvalleyopry.com.


Beaded glory

Jenny “Chapoose” Taylor, 56, grew up on the Uintah-Ouray Indian Reservation in northeastern Utah. She learned traditional native beadcraft as a child under the tutelage of her aunt, Suzie Taylor. Over the nearly 40 years after she left the reservation, Chapoose Taylor honed her beading skills on traditional projects like belts, hatbands, and jewelry.

Then in 2001, shortly after the 9/11 terrorist attacks, Taylor was seized by an artistic vision tethering beadcraft to notions of patriotism, Native spirituality, and American history. The vision incorporated voices articulating familiar patriotic slogans and prophetic statements of Native leaders—and it bound all the elements together within the stars-and-stripes motif of the American flag.

Taylor immediately began translating her vision into in a 20-by-30-inch tapestry comprised of more than 130,000 tiny seed beads. She put 1,500 hours of meticulous labor into the weaving, then submitted her “Nations” project to the 2002 Eugene Mayor’s Art Show. It missed the cut!

Surprising, circuitous, and serendipitous events followed—and in April 2006, Taylor’s weaving was installed in the permanent collection of the Smithsonian’s National Museum of the American Indian in Washington, D.C.

Taylor is currently working on a new master weaving, the second in a triumvirate of beaded tapestries reflecting native identity and cultural pride. The newest weaving will use more than a quarter-million beads to depict a map of America’s 150 principal Native tribal regions. Taylor trusts that the map will merit a place in the Smithsonian’s permanent collection alongside her beaded flag, and she plans to travel to D.C. to personally present it to the American Indian Museum’s Board of Elders, for consideration in April.

There’s also a lesser-known storyline running through Taylor’s “Nations” saga—that of her own emotional renaissance. According to the petite bead artist, wearisome depression that once weighed heavy on her heart has given way to an affirming spirituality and solace. So too, long-standing personal doubt has been replaced by a giddy confidence and renewed ethnic pride. Taylor’s story is indeed a tale of beaded glory.


Rock on, Rockyfeller!

You’ve probably driven past it dozens of times. You know, that yellow and green concrete block storefront on 6th and Jackson—the curious little shop with the hand-painted banner that sometimes prompts bemused smiles triggered by recall of a certain Republican vice president from the Nixon years: Nelson the Rockyfeller.

Claustrophobics be forewarned! The interior of the shop is, uh, strikingly unpretentious and cluttered. Display cases overflow with all manner of raw rock and minerals, dusty crystals, polished stones, and bright, faceted gems. Mounds of chalcedony, feldspar, and bauxite lie scattered at the foot of heavy-laden shelves, the dark-skinned stones lapping at the shop’s narrow aisles like rickrack alongside a stream.

If it takes you a moment to spot the proprietors, it’s likely they’re wedged between sales counters cluttered with fossils and jewelry, or obscured behind a tower of gold prospecting paraphernalia and lapidary hardware. Jim (The Rockyfeller) Nelson and his wife, Barbara, have been fixtures in the shop since opening for business in the ’70s.

“It’s a good life,” says Barbara. “We enjoy it. But we’ve been thinking about selling the business. We’re really past the age where we should have retired.”

Jim nods agreement, commenting that he no longer remembers the moment when his focus shifted from pure rock hound to business owner, but he suspects it was somehow pinned to his father-in-law, who taught high school lapidary classes. Retirement concerns aside, the Rockyfeller concedes he still savors being surrounded by unique treasures culled from the earth.

“We won’t buy from just anybody and his kid sister,” boasts Nelson, underscoring his bent toward honest dealings and quality merchandise. “We only buy from reliable wholesalers and people that we know. We’re not trying to get rich. We’re trying to be a service. And integrity goes a long way!”

Sounds like a rock solid set of business principles to me!


Where’s the party?

Can you say sesquicentennial?

February 14, 2009, marks the anniversary date for 150 years of Oregon statehood. The sponsors of “Oregon 150” (oregon150.org) think that calls for one heckuva party!

Yeah, okay—maybe “Oregon 150” smacks a bit of self-promotion by folks who draw income from tourism revenues. But truth remains: The Beaver State is one of the greatest states in the union—spacious skies, amber waves of grain, purple mountain majesties, fruited plains, sea to shining sea. . . . Yep, that’s Oregon!

So, officially speaking, what does “Oregon150” suggest Lane County has to contribute to the abundance of sesquicentennial party favors? Oddly enough, not much! And that’s kind of surprising, don’t you think?

Wouldn’t you expect the official promoters of the big birthday bash to promote more than just weekly Eugene Farmer’s Markets, Saturday Markets, Duck football games, and the Asian Festival as the only local highlights worth noting on their sesquicentennial celebration calendar?

At the very least, toss a mention of the Eugene Celebration, the Rhody Festival, Scandinavian Festival, Bohemia Mining Days, and the Dorris Ranch Festival into the mix. And lest I be accused of poopin’ on parties in other corners of the county, how about some props for all the local festivities that spice up Oakridge, Coburg, Veneta, Creswell, and the swell communities up the McKenzie River?

Personally, unless you’re a local hardy-partier with unbridled plans for visiting the more distant regions of our fine state next year, maybe it’s best to just grab a few friends and jot down your own list of funtastic local party particulars—stuff like arts performances, sports competitions, water recreation, cruise-ins, street fairs, swap meets, rodeos, public concerts, pet events, hiking and biking getaways, air shows, parades. . . .

Goodness gracious, folks in Lane County know darn well how to say sesquicentennial! Let’s get the party started!

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Duck Tales
By Aaron Ragan-Fore

Digging for clues

The site where four sets of human remains were discovered last May as part the excavation for Springfield’s new RiverBend Hospital was ruled out as a crime scene pretty quickly, but that doesn’t mean there hasn’t been ample opportunity for sleuthing.

The graves turned out to be part of the family cemetery of William and Hixey Stevens, the first white settlers between the Willamette and McKenzie Rivers, who traveled the Oregon Trail in 1847. An additional eight graves were also discovered, but these were empty: the original occupants were moved in 1901, when the family sold the land. All 12 graves, however, provide important clues to an early chapter in Oregon history.

Staff from the University of Oregon’s Museum of Natural and Cultural History, including Historic Preservation graduate student Chris Ruiz, cataloged and photographed hundreds of small artifacts from the site. Cedar coffin remnants were recovered, as were porcelain buttons, even jewelry such as a child’s ring and a handful of glass beads.

Then came the really painstaking part. “The artifacts can tell you a lot on a most basic level: how old things are, where they came from,” says Ruiz, but only if you’re willing to put in the work. “We spent a lot of time consulting the archival record,” he explains, including contemporary newspapers and maps, and even handwritten birth and death records from a family Bible.

Coffin hardware turned out to be key. An 1865 hardware catalog produced an exact match for one grave’s elaborate Victorian casket handles, each inscribed with a Freemason seal.

The next stop in the investigation was the local Masonic Lodge, where records stated that Harrison Stevens, eldest son of William and Hixey, was a member of the organization until his 1876 death; further corroboration came from Harrison’s contemporary obituary from the Eugene City Guard. Thanks to careful research, Harrison is now believed to be the cemetery’s final interment.

For Ruiz, the artifacts tell an important story of American expansion. “Oregon was the frontier,” he says, “but it was tied into the greater national economy, even as early as this time frame.”

Souvenirs from the past

It’s hard to imagine the rapid growth of the Willamette Valley in those days, but less than 40 years after the Stevens family settled in the area, the UO was celebrating the completion of Villard Hall, the second building on campus, by placing a time capsule in a cornerstone of the north wall. In July 1885, souvenirs of life in the U.S. and Oregon were placed in the copper box, including a fragment of Plymouth Rock, samples of Oregon gold and wheat, and even a copy of the UO’s first commencement program.

Almost a century later, UO archivist Keith Richard was organizing some records, and came across the list of preserved items. He realized that 1985 marked Villard Hall’s 100th anniversary. “When I found it was there,” Richard says of the capsule, “I thought it would be interesting to celebrate the anniversary of the building” by opening the box.

The capsule was opened with great fanfare and media attention, and Richard even sported Victorian duds (on loan from the Theater Arts Department) for the occasion. The capsule’s contents proved so popular, in fact, that Richard arranged a yearlong traveling exhibit.

But Richard had one more trick up his period-specific sleeve. He prepared a second capsule, this time made of nuke-proof lead, and included donated items such as 1986 political campaign buttons, a Eugene-Springfield Convention and Visitors Bureau pamphlet, and a videotape of the opening of the 1885 time capsule. Richard’s favorite items just might be the essays he included from schoolchildren, stating what they suspected life would be like in the future. The contents of the 1885 capsule were welded back inside, and the two boxes were sealed away in the cornerstone.

Richard has been retired now for over a decade, but he still has a message for all Oregonians: “It’s your archives. Come use it!”

Where no duck has gone before

Eric Stillwell has always been more interested in space capsules than time capsules. Stillwell was a student at Eugene’s Churchill High School when he produced his first science fiction film, a Super-8 movie with an outer space background of black felt and pieces of Kix cereal as stars. As a UO undergraduate in the 1980s, Stillwell founded STARFLEET, the largest science fiction fan club on this planet, and maybe any other.

After graduating from UO in 1985 with a political science degree, Stillwell moved to Hollywood and, after a stint as a tour guide at Paramount Studios, landed a job as a script coordinator on Star Trek: The Next Generation.

And then, faster than a Klingon downs a flagon of blood wine, Stillwell’s career began picking up. He soon worked his way up to production associate for the follow-up series Star Trek: Voyager, and even co-wrote “Yesterday’s Enterprise,” a fan-favorite Next Generation episode involving time travel.

After moving on to cable programs like The Dead Zone and Wildfire, Stillwell engaged in a bit of time travel of his own, returning to Eugene and accepting a position as a government and community relations coordinator in the UO’s Public and Government Affairs unit, interfacing with local businesses and the university’s neighbors.

“Ducks come home to roost,” Stillwell laughs. “Things kind of come back to where they started for me, which seems like the fulfillment of a process.” Plus, Stillwell adds, now “I get to actually put my political science degree to good use!”

Stillwell and his wife, Debra, (who he met at a Star Trek convention) still appear at fan functions each year, such as a recent Trek-themed cruise up the Danube River. Stillwell enjoys his job at the UO, but at times like these, he says, “all of a sudden you get warped back in” to life as a sci-fi celebrity.

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