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April 12, 2007

NIELSEN RATED | MEAN STREETS | BUGS AND BUSTER

NIELSEN RATED Friday afternoon at the Adorni Center, a brilliant spring day. Seals swam up and down the harbor, clearly visible from the great glass wall on the north side of the big multipurpose room. It was a momentous day. Inside, 37 sworn officers of the Eureka Police Department -- just about the entire force, except for a few who were out of town -- stood in military formation as the dignitaries and guests arrived. The Sheriff's Office and the CHP took over Eureka for the afternoon so that everyone could make it to the ceremony.

The occasion, of course, was the swearing-in of Eureka's new police chief, and the pomp and circumstance that the city of Eureka brought to the event was a clear sign that the powers-that-be wished to give Garr Nielsen, formerly of Multnomah County, Oregon, a reception equal to the hopes that his hiring had inspired. Just about everyone showed up to welcome Chief Nielsen. Delegations from almost every other law enforcement agency in the region, including the Coast Guard and the Department of Fish and Game, were on hand, as were elected officials and business people from across the county.

When the time for speeches came, Mayor Virginia Bass squared up to the podium and tackled matters not exactly head-on, but as close to head-on as was politically practicable. She thanked interim chief Murl Harpham, a 50-year veteran of the force, for stepping up to take temporary command "at a time that was challenging, to say the least." Then she moved to Nielsen and took up her main theme -- that this was a time of "new beginnings."

And also a time to "heal wounds," to "step forward" and to "tackle challenges." Bass never mentioned specifics -- unrest following the EPD shooting of a mentally disturbed woman one year ago, and later of a teenager; chronic staffing shortages and low pay; poor morale -- but she did acknowledge, obliquely, the last year had been a rough one for the city's police department. And she, like everyone, was placing a lot of hope in the idea that the man from Multnomah, whose reputation and stature has continued to skyrocket since he was introduced a couple of weeks ago, would be able to work miracles.

Nielsen was introduced, to applause. He said that he had visited several communities since he decided to strike out on his own; Eureka was special. "It felt right from day one," he said. He knew that the community had problems; he took on the "awesome responsibility" with full knowledge that the citizenry here deserved to feel safe in their homes and on the streets, and that the community had placed a great deal of trust in him.

"My goal is, that at the end of what I hope to be a long tenure, that I leave the Eureka Police Department better than I found it," Nielsen said. Then his wife was introduced, and she pinned his new badge to his chest. As he left the podium, he stopped for a moment and spoke without the mic -- the sworn officers, who were still standing in formation, were only part of the department, he said; the non-sworn personnel -- dispatchers, clerks, evidence technicians, volunteers, were sitting in the first three rows. They made police work possible, and he wished to acknowledge them as well.

Capt. Raymond Adgers, a colleague from the Multnomah County Sheriff's Office who came down for the ceremony, later said that moment was absolutely typical of Nielsen. "I know it's a cliché, but the thing I want to say about Garr is 'exceptional service,'" Adgers said. "That man provided us with 20 years of exceptional service, and I know he'll do the same in this community."

-- Hank Sims

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MEAN STREETS On a Saturday night in Arcata, I walked in front of the bars on the Plaza with Officer Heidi Groszmann. Thankfully, I was not under arrest -- just going with her on her rounds as a part of my four-hour ride-along.

Whether it was a traffic stop or making rounds on the Plaza, Groszmann was able to present herself however she wanted. On the Plaza, she greeted everyone with a smile and "How's it going?" She introduced me, her ride-along, to everyone she knew. Yet she was able to balance her friendliness with stern authority. While approaching people in an almost intimidating way, she was often compassionate with the people she met. Through several traffic stops and talking to people parking where they should not be (such as Redwood Park, late at night) she did not write one ticket -- possibly because she was acting as backup that night.

Groszmann typically works during the day. She told me, "The difference between night and day is ... well, night and day." So this shift was obviously a little different for her. "I can change my approach as needed," she said. "I can be a little pussycat if I need to be, or I can be tough on people."

This balance and change of approach is by no means an accident. Groszmann, who resembles a less hard-edged version of Sarah Silverman, knows how to utilize her femininity and size to her advantage. "I'm 5 feet and 135 pounds, so I need to be tough sometimes," she said. "But at the same time, I can wait for backup if I need to. I don't get as much crap from guys that we deal with ... I feel like the men get more crap than I do."

Toward the end of the eerily boring night, things picked up and got a whole lot scarier. While it was a G-rated version of what police officers experience all the time, the last event of the night shook me.

Groszmann and Ortega responded to a noise complaint at a party. A 20-something man walked unstably up the road, holding a beer. As Groszmann talked with him, other officers walked by, hoping to talk to whoever was having the party. They soon found him and a hundred of his closest friends, piling out into the front yard.

Unfortunately, I did not see what exactly happened next, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw some people hitting the ground, some running away, and many people screaming "What the fuck?" A few moments later, there was a man in handcuffs walking up the driveway, who quickly fell to his knees screaming. A few people ran to him to see if he was okay.

One of them, obviously intoxicated, made a big mistake. By lunging toward an officer with his arms out, in a seemingly threatening way, another partygoer soon found himself on the ground, resisting the two officers on top of him. When he got up, his hair was a mess and his lip was bleeding. A friend wisely yelled, "Submit" to his friends, hoping to make things easier. After a few minutes of watching them fight to get out of the car, I decided to leave.

-- Ashley Mackin
Ashley Mackin studies journalism at Humboldt State.

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BUGS AND BUSTER Like many parents with young children, we spend an inordinate number of Saturday nights at home doing home things: watching movies, playing games, taking baths, making popcorn, listening to the radio, reading, noodling on the guitar, etc. Mundane, maybe, but still satisfying in a homey way.

Sometimes we think about all those shows in nightclubs, at CenterArts or in the movie theaters that we're missing. But hey, that's the deal you sign up for when you're raising children. Oh sure, there are those ambitious -- and organized! -- parents who plan out adult dates, contract with a babysitter, and drive away from their house for an expensive night of relative freedom. But not us: We stay home. Usually.

However, a recent event at the Arkley Center for the Arts motivated our family and another family with a young boy to venture out into the world outside our living room. During the Saturday night of the recent jazz festival the Arkley Center screened Buster Keaton's 1928 silent movie, "The Cameraman" with the added attraction of a live band and sound effects. It took a Herculean effort and pushing to get our family out of our house but eventually we piled in our car and headed to Eureka.

In the car, my 7-year-old son Jesse kept saying things like "Why are we going to this? Will it be funny? I don't want to go."

"But you don't know what it is."

"I don't care I don't want to go. It's going to be stupid." His resistance notwithstanding, we arrive in Eureka, park and stroll into the Arkley Center lobby along with a happy crowd of festival goers and curious movie fans.

We all look up at the frescoes, chandeliers, the new paint and are stunned by the improvements over the former Daly's Department Store. Immediately, the kids bolt up the carpeted stairs for the balcony. The crowd is buzzing, waiting for this 79-year-old movie to begin. I can't wait to hear how the band's music will mesh with the movie. Will it be professional? Will it add to the movie? Will we and the kids be bored by this "silent" movie?

After introductions of the band, the movie begins. It's classic Buster Keaton, the man with the most impassive face in all of cinema and one of the most inventive and funny physical comedians ever. I sneak a look at Jesse. His main media heroes are, in order, Sponge Bob, Bart Simpson and Bugs Bunny. He loves the slapstick of those old Warner Brothers cartoons.

At first, Jesse's squirming, he's ready to bail and I'm listening for shuffling feet and whining. Then Buster Keaton takes a fall and Jesse bellows. More falls and more laughing. Jesse's friend Ely is laughing and many adults are, too. The music plays sublime counterpoint and accompaniment to the cagey story. As the movie continues I find myself forgetting that a live band is playing, their music so completely integrated that it seems like a sound track that's always been part of the movie.

At one point, I look down the row and everybody, young and old, is riveted to the action on the screen. This ancient movie, made a year before the great crash of 1929, with no dialog, is being played in a theater that originally opened in 1920. I wonder if this old theater, in its original incarnation, actually showed this movie when it first came out. But, like this theater, the movie seems both new and old at the same time. You see street scenes of New York in the 1920s and it's thrilling to see the Model Ts and old brownstones, the people wearing hats and long coats bustling on the streets of Manhattan. Buster Keaton's charm and talent slowly but surely win over this 21st century audience and magic floats up to the balcony. While the theater smells of fresh paint and new carpet it still emanates old spirits and history. These talented musicians have enlivened this old movie to make it feel very new to young kids and parents alike.

Jesse says on the way home, "That was pretty funny. Kinda like Bugs Bunny but different."

Take it as a rave review.

-- Jeff DeMark
Jeff DeMark is a writer and performer.

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