I was thinking of an oil tanker, theological student Allen Corben proposed during last Sundays white-racial-awareness workshop at the community room in the Fox Hills Mall in Culver City. The all-white group, gathered to examine their own ethnicity on the way to enhancing their racism-fighting powers, had been assigned to use the right brain to draw an unspecified sea vessel representing whiteness in America, and Corben was fighting the forces favoring a luxury liner. We have a great deal of resources, but theres a storm behind us . . . Were moving out of a period where we were on top.
Yeah but its all white people, not just us . . . Should we represent, in some way, Nazi skinheads? Where are they? asked Rebecca Barkin in a hesitant tone, sending Corben, armed with a colored marker, to a porthole below deck, where he sketched in a tiny swastika.
Im going to make a ship of multiculturalism and our contingency is reaching out to it, Jill Murray, a sign-language interpreter, said later.
Probably not everybodys reaching for it, said Barkin.
But we are, Murray responded quickly.
Through exercises like this, the National Conference for Community and Justice (NCCJ, formerly the National Conference of Christians and Jews), since 1992, has been helping white people get active in anti-racism work, adjunct staffer Lise Ransdell said. The workshops are a rare opportunity for our National Tragedy to be tackled in a sea of white faces, she noted. (Limiting attendance to Caucasians helps break down the barrier of white guilt, Ransdell explained.)
The workshops goal is to help participants shed feelings of inertia and helplessness about ending racism born, in part, of their myopia as white people.
For white people, theres a certain amount of catching up we have to do in terms of racial issues, Ransdell said. White people dont have a good sense of how the history of white people in the United States, and the history of racism, still affects white people today.
In the initial ship-drawing exercise, however, Corben and his fellows seemed less anxious to confront white racism than to depict themselves as a happy band of anti-racist rebels letting the banner of bigotry fall along the way to the white supremacists. That way of thinking was confronted during the discussion that followed, when it was pointed out that, as nice as it may be to envision a multicultural society, a lot of things are in the way, Ransdell recalled.
We also had a fascinating discussion about skinheads and the psychological concept of projection, and whether any ugliness in us, wed rather turn and see in them its those people who are awful, Ransdell added.
The NCCJ white-awareness workshops are part of a broader movement that has produced at least two national conferences on White Identity,in Berkeley and Riverside, Ransdell said. But the NCCJ remains a national model, she added.
Theres a lot of interest nationally in replicating what were doing here, Ransdell said.
In the end, Corbens group settled on a tanker flying the pirates skull and crossbones; members of the crew representing the workshop participants mutinied, throwing cannons overboard.
Im like the Joe Average person; I think its important for me to be involved in dismantling these structures, said Corben, a self-described white, middle-class, married straight guy. The way white people think is, Everyone else is ethnic; Im the standard. We have the privilege of being white, but that has to be invisible. We dont like to believe its true; we just like to enjoy it.
But no one wants to put people from the bottom in charge. So its important to change folks in the middle who will be the leaders of tomorrow.
The PCH club in Wilmington hosted hundreds of hardcore kids, straight-edgers, crusties, indie rockers, and spiky Mohawks-and-patches punks, but it didnt survive a single visit from an L.A. Times zone reporter.
The PCH club had to close its doors after authorities discover[ed] it did not have proper permits, read the subhead over a November 2 article by Stefanie Frith of the South Bay Weekly (a Los Angeles Times community paper). What Frith failed to disclose was that it was her letter to the LAPDs Harbor Vice Division questioning the clubs legality that triggered the permit investigation in the first place.
This takes place in a warehouse, she wrote, according to Harbor Division officials. Just walking in makes you wonder if its legal.
After the story was printed, South Bay Weekly staff did not respond to requests for comment on the papers role in the closure. But in an earlier interview, city editor Michael Martinez, who contributed to the story, said that Friths letter was a very standard request for information and not a complaint. Frith contacted the police after Alex Maciel, who had run the all-ages club since 1997, told her that officers had visited numerous times during his drug-and-alcohol-free shows and left without asking about permits, Martinez said.
We were out to do a story that morphed beyond our original intent, said Martinez. We had no intention of causing injury to anyone.
For the financially struggling Maciel who, with his brother Pete and his friend Reggie Rosalvas, booked more than 300 shows with bands from Orange County to Sweden, Argentina and beyond permits, at $6,000 to $8,000 a pop, are not a realistic option.
It was just four walls and a ceiling, Maciel said of his club. People would ask when we were going to get air conditioning we just paid rent. If youre going to pay for permits and still charge $5 for shows, youll have to sell a lot of expensive drinks.
Maciel said police had visited the club in the past without raising a problem until the Times goosing, that is.
They never asked us for anything, Maciel said.
Ron Martinez, a booker at Anaheims Chain Reaction (which has already picked up at least one scheduled PCH show), said the clubs closure would hurt a lot.
The PCH was about music and community first and foremost. They were contributing something important, he said.
It was the one place that was truly underground, said Brian Rogers, singer for Orange Countys Fish People. Shows there were always more fun than at other places.
Maciel said he hopes to carry on with the annual PCH Record Swap, an event without live music that would be one last chance to hang out.
This was a big part of my life, and Im sure it was the same for a lot of other people a lot more than I thought, he said.
OffBeat was in the midst of a frantic, how-am-I-going-to-get-to-tennis? phone conversation with our child when the call-waiting beep went off in our ear. Hello, this is Barbra Streisand on behalf of Planned Parenthood, the dulcet tone on the other line began.
That was Barbra. Barbra Streisand, we dropped casually after listening in full to Barbras scintillating political message. Yeah, she just wanted to make sure personally we were going to get out there and vote. Isnt that just like her, to be thinking of little old us on Election Day, with everything on her famous and oh-so-politically-committed mind? we chuckled proudly.
Wow, our son responded.
The next day, the beep sounded again. This is Erin Brockovich. Remember me from that award-winning movie on fighting toxics? We made it about halfway through Erins computerized message before ringing off. Hey, the fish was overcooking. No on 37, we murmured softly, trying to memorize Erins election pick. Or was it 38? Damn.
Erin. Erin Brockovich, we told the child.
She isnt real, he answered scornfully.
Yes, she is. She, too, wants to help get OffBeat to the polls, we riposted deftly.
Election Day. Deadlines. Cant find the polling-place address. Ring! Hello, this is President Bill Clinton Slam! With Barbra and Erin in our corner, we dont need no stinking president pressuring us to get out and vote. Ring, ring. This is former Attorney General John Van de K Click. Who unleashed these annoying cybernags anyway? Remember when it was college kids, not hollow-voiced celebrity simulacra, trying to get you to the polls? Theyd drive you, too. And they knew where the polling places were.
So, for all the Erins, Barbras, Bills and Johns who were so worried that OffBeat might hole up with Friends reruns and forget to cast our ballot we voted, okay? Just once, too. Were left with one haunting question, however. What if that really was Bill, trying to get OffBeat for the transition team..?
Get the This Week's Top Stories Newsletter
Every week we collect the latest news, music and arts stories — along with film and food reviews and the best things to do this week — so that you’ll never miss LA Weekly's biggest stories.