2003-08 Vital Source Mag – August 2003
Three Chords and Some Hard Questions
By Richard Walters These are arguably the most difficult and frightening times within memory to be an American citizen. Not since the days of Kent State have we confronted so disturbing a landscape, in which our role as citizens is so much in question, or in which our moral compass seems to have been misplaced along with our cell phones. For the current crop of middle-agers, the political context of that time, thirty or forty years ago, was much simpler, much more comprehensible. There was one big issue (the war), one big bad guy (the government), and one big solution (love one another/give peace a chance/power to the people). It wasn’t so much a question of what should be done, as much as what shouldn’t: stop the war, and the rest would fall into place. Today, though, the problem is that no clear dragon presents itself for beheading. Rather, we confront a wearying mass of issues with no apparent solution, until a single galvanizing event, the Trade Center tragedy, is offered to us as a focal point. With it we are given “them” to hate and blame it on, and our government embarks on its response abroad, with wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, and domestically, with the PATRIOT Act, electronic surveillance on an unsurpassed scale, suspension of civil rights, and the death penalty at every turn. Questioning the government’s leadership has become unpatriotic in the eyes of many, and anything less than unqualified support for the wars has become nearly treasonous. Where have all the voices gone? Against this backdrop, the voices of protest and activism in popular music are largely silent. Unlike the days of the Great Folk Scare, and the politicization of rock in the 70s, today we hear virtually nothing of questions or doubts in the musical media. The amalgam of Clear Channel/Sony/Dreamworks and other media powerhouse corporations has provided a platform on today’s focus-group formula radio for such performers as Toby Keith and Darryl Worley, both embarrassingly right wing. The difference between the two, both mainstream country chart toppers, is merely stylistic — Worley’s maudlin, jingoistic sycophancy for anything in desert camouflage, and Keith’s redneck, bullying “we’ll plant a boot in your ass” aggression. As a friend recently observed, “The lines between Country Music Television, NASCAR and the WWF are getting pretty blurry, even when I haven’t been drinking.” He could have thrown Fox “News” and “reality television” into the mix as well. So what do we have for voices, not even on the left, but simply other than the hard right? Well, there’s Bruce Cockburn, doomed however unjustly to being typecast as incessantly beating the drum about the Third World. There’s Ani deFranco, with her (some would say) over-shared personal growth. And then there’s Steve Earle. Enter Steve Earle. For those who have been locked away in a monastery for the last few years, Steve Earle is quite possibly the finest songwriter at work in popular music today, and certainly the most controversial. In September […]
Aug 1st, 2003 by Vital Archives
Dreaming on Midsummer Nights
By Ken Morgan THE FIRST DECADE: The Unsinkable Molly Brown…Guys and Dolls…Fiddler On The Roof… Brigadoon… Oliver… West Side Story… No, No Nanette… On The Town… South Pacific… Anything Goes… It’s not the oldest youth theater company in America. It’s not the biggest. But there is nothing else quite like it anywhere. Most people would be surprised to discover Manitowoc, Wisconsin is ripe with a thriving art scene. With a population of only 35,000, Manitowoc boasts an unusual level of diversity in both industry and arts. The Rahr-West Museum is a venue for all genres, there are two dinner theaters nearby, and there’s the Masquers Little Theater, now in its 72nd year. A Lyceum Circuit-era theater serves as a venue for both local and touring productions. But it’s the Peter Quince Performance Company that truly stands out. Founded in 1969 by two stage struck youths, the company produces one musical every summer and, for 35 years, has been managed by the local youth involved in the productions. While children as young as seven have worked there, the age requirements — originally 13 to 21, now up to 23 — mean adults have had little to do with the success of the company. It is perhaps America’s only true youth theater. THE SECOND DECADE: Bye Bye Birdie… Oklahoma!… Carousel… Dames at Sea… The Boy Friend… The Pajama Game… Gypsy… Grease… The Wizard Of Oz… Where’s Charlie… “The company adopted its name from a character in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” according to Co-founder Reed Humphrey. “Peter Quince is a carpenter who organized an acting troupe to entertain for royalty. He worked under adverse conditions: none of the cast was professional, there was no rehearsal stage until shortly before the performance, and there were few props. The willingness to seek responsibility for what seems to be an impossible venture is the contagious spirit of Peter Quince and the real magic of theatre.” Stage Trek – Generations. At least one “Quincer” has gone on to act on Broadway, another is now a famous composer and one has even crossed to the other side as a theater critic; however most of the people work there for the love of performing and producing musical theater. Dropping in at rehearsal for the current production of Footloose, the enthusiasm of young people is infectious. Originally, productions took place at local schools. They now enjoy the main stage at the Capitol Civic Center. Technology not available in the 1970s has further improved production values. Shows are now miked. Boom boxes and a synthesizer are used as the cast snaps into the opening production number. The rehearsal hall at the Masonic Temple in Manitowoc trembles as the 20-plus voices of musical youths hit the notes both high and low. Sets and costumes are designed, built and crewed by the members. A full orchestra with brass, woodwind and percussion instruments fills the theater with sound. The local dance schools turn out top-notch choreographers —Milwaukee Ballet principal Amy Fote learned her […]
Aug 1st, 2003 by Vital Archives
Michael Seidel’s Neon Golden journey of out time
By Michael Seidel It was Gothenburg. Truly it was, but whenever arrows of time are lobbed at the dartboard of that day, my mind gets tyrannical, wiping out the reality of place. It could have been anywhere: Anywhere International Airport. That’s it. Or at least we’ll pretend it is. It started like this: an ultra-modern, passenger-choked shuttle bus slid out of the city. Along the featureless outlying countryside, dusk was raining down, incrementally blacking out depth of field until the landscape was reduced to my own face staring back at me. I dug the Discman out of my side bag, sifted through my volumes of MP3s and eventually settled on the bleepy, lush electronic sounds of The Notwist’s Neon Golden. I’d heard the record before. Months earlier, I was doing a stint of couch surfing and a generous friend offered his room to me while he was away from home for several months. Along with his room came his CD collection, which was massive, and teeming with records I’d never heard before. Everyday was an odyssey of discovery, and it was wonderful. Neon Golden had gotten a few spins and I thought it was great, but its significance hadn’t yet surfaced. That would happen at Anywhere International Airport. We trudged deeper into what can only be described as “the boonies.” Seemingly out of nowhere, landing lights seared through the dark empty space outside. The shuttle came to a halt, we gathered our things and got off. The hour was a hellish hullabaloo of passports being rifled for, suitcases being dropped onto scales, sundry tongues clashing and competing. For me, all of that was muted to nothing more than tangible action. Sure, I caught snippets in the segues between tracks, but for the most part, it was all over-arched by Neon Golden. So in that way, on that night, that record became my anthem of transition. For me it somehow sonically exemplified the feeling and experience of transitory life. Over the next few months, I’d listen to it in narrow, pot-holed back alleys; on coaches with faltering suspension systems; on turbulence-plagued budget planes; sprawled out on the mite infested sheets of hostel beds, listless and longing. It gave form to the uncontrollable tremble of vague expectation. It was my empathetic conspirator in homelessness and motion. In the course of all this moving about, the surface of the CD got dinged so severely that it’s now unplayable. Though I have heard it a few times since I returned to my sedentary domestic life, I have not made the effort to obtain a new copy of my own. I still feel that it’s one of the greatest records I’ve ever heard — it’s just that it now feels out of context: its significance is trapped in my past, when life felt indistinct, boundless and new.
Aug 1st, 2003 by Vital Archives
Vegetarianism as spiritual choice.
By Sanut Gloria Tarrer Humans are individuals. That is, we are an indivisible duality. And although body and spirit are divisible by label, and by energy and matter, they are still one and the same. The body is a vessel for the spirit, which grants the foundation of spiritual development, provided the body receives the essential elements to nurture optimal health. Thus, the healthier the body is, the greater the potential for spiritual growth. The connection between vegetarianism and spirituality is profound. But what does it mean to “be spiritual”? Humans function out of three faculties — mental, emotional and spiritual. Most people primarily utilize the first two faculties. They use their thinking abilities and their feelings to solve problems, find a mate, be employed, etc. A spiritual person functions primarily from their spiritual faculty, actively working to overcome conditioned behavior and habits. For instance, it’s not natural for people to be angry, sad, excited, etc. If it were, all people would share the same emotions about the same event every time. Not everyone is overcome by sadness upon losing a loved one. Not everyone gets angry when confronted or accused. These are programmed responses. Spiritual growth takes place when one learns to ignore these emotional responses. Vitality is essential to spirituality. A major component of spiritual growth is vitality. Vitality is essential to ignoring negative thoughts and emotions. Have you ever noticed that when your vitality is high, you have a sunny outlook on life, greater mental clarity, higher decision-making capacity and feel more disciplined and tolerant? Have you noticed that when your vitality is low, you tend to be more emotional, pessimistic and forgetful? An important key to vitality is the quality of food one consumes. Extensive research has shown that vegetable protein is superior to animal protein. The quality of vegetable protein, i.e. nuts, has a greater chance to be more nutritious, especially in raw form. Vegetable protein is full of enzymes. Science shows us that the more you cook food, the more enzymes it loses. Enzymes act as catalysts for chemical processes in the body that produce energy. And many sources of vegetable protein can be consumed raw. For how many sources of animal protein is this also true? Almost none. And if one consumes animal protein raw, what effect does it have on health? Usually it’s harmful. Also, to believe animal flesh must be consumed in order to sufficiently supply the body with protein is unreasonable. If one looks at protein from a spiritual perspective, unfettered by desires and unbound by taste, one will find that protein is abundantly found in beans, peas, nuts and some whole grains. When one consumes food merely based on taste, it demonstrates a violation of spiritual laws, because the pleasure-seeking desires are in control. The spirit is a force of nature, not nurture. With all that said, one must realize that spiritual development is not something that comes when one eliminates animals from the diet. Eliminating the animalistic behaviors […]
Aug 1st, 2003 by Vital Archives
Riverwest Rising
It’s hard to say where it started. The first “event” could be marked as the racist rally downtown last November. Add to it an undercurrent of widespread frustration stemming from innumerable social ills: a dismal economy; a confusing, seemingly interminable “war on terrorism”; continually decreasing funds for education; a less than successful attempt at welfare reform; long term high unemployment, with hundreds of thousands, maybe millions, of Americans having exhausted both benefits and their savings. The list, as they say, goes on and on. In the Riverwest neighborhood, where Vital Source has its offices (as well as sister businesses Bremen Café and The Guardian), signs of unrest have been building over recent months. We’ve come a long way since the early 90s, with areas along Center, Locust and Clarke, as well as pockets throughout the area, blossoming with successful businesses, due in large part to the dedication of early pioneers like Fuel Café and Linneman’s. Home owner occupation is at decades-high levels; property values have (legitimately) increased. Children of all races play along the sidewalks as hipsters, artists and working class Joes walk the streets. Yes, there is crime here. Car break-ins are frequent, as are incidents of burglary and vandalism. But in ever increasing numbers, to the credit of those who won’t be driven “west”, or even east, Riverwesterners are doing what’s required to take Riverwest back from the brink of becoming another urban wasteland statistic. The gauntlet of hate is thrown down. So, as a community, we’ve been collectively horrified over the last several weeks by disturbing events, which, until very recently, have been passed over by both the mainstream media and, if you ask people around here, the serious attention of law enforcement officials. First it was a series of dumpster/garbage can fires set by arsonists with gasoline. Then the now publicized beatings of several residents by groups of youth, often on bicycles. Scean Rose, owner of Riverhorse, a club in the 700 block of E. Center, has reported “frequent” incidents of purse snatchings and worse outside his bar, in plain sight of patrons. In the words of John Mellencamp, it’s hard times for an honest man. People are understandably shaken. And in the midst of the crisis, the gauntlet of hatred has been thrown down. On Saturday, July 12, racist flyers were distributed throughout Riverwest by a group calling itself RAM- the Riverwest Anti-Nigger Movement. The handbill called for “you niggers to vacate all white premises IMMEDIATELY!” There’s more, and it’s even worse. In fact, it’s obscene. It was meant to frighten, to breed hostility and paranoia, to pit neighbor against neighbor. But it has backfired. Riverwest will be walking. And watching. On July 14, two meetings were held. Notice of the first, held at Onopa Brewing Co., spread by word of mouth for less than a day. Over 50 people attended, even though the meeting was held in the afternoon before many people were home from work. It was mostly younger people, and action was […]
Aug 1st, 2003 by Jon Anne Willow
"I know what I want to do for the rest of my life."
By John Hughes What do the Pfister, the Milwaukee Athletic Club, Comet and Fuel Cafes, the Hi-Hat, Sanford’s, Trocedaro, St. Bessie’s, The Social, Sol Fire, Sendik’s and the 300 Club at Miller Park all have in common? You might guess, with a group as wide-ranging as that — nothing. But the answer is Wild Flour Bakery, which bakes wholesale for all of the above. Because of that, they all have Greg and Dolly Mertens, the owners of Wild Flour, in common. You might say Greg and Dolly are the leaven in Milwaukee’s yeast. So much the better for us. During a recent visit to the couple’s beautiful, Mayor’s Design Award-winning bakery on 28th and Lincoln, Dolly shows me with beaming pride the stripped original woodwork in the 80 year old shop, the original laminated bread cases, the original tile floor. She shows me the new, hand-built brick oven, which turns 600 pounds of dough into delectables on slow days, 850 pounds on busy ones. She informs me that there are two other bakeries under the Wild Flour name; one in New Berlin, and one baking pastries and croissants at Grand Avenue Mall. She takes me on a tour of her sparkling kitchen, bustling with hard-working Latinos from the neighborhood, and speaks with strength, conviction, and enthusiasm, her brown eyes bright. “Ten years ago I bought a loaf of bread,” she says. “And when I bit into it, I said to my husband, ‘I know what I want to do for the rest of my life.’ He said, ‘what is that?’ I said, ‘be a baker.’ He just said, ‘I’ll support you.’ He’s a honey.” She smiles with megawatt authenticity and leads me back to the front of the store, where employee Rosa is sweeping with vigor and cheer. “I was the 13th of my parents’ 14 kids,” she continues. “And I was raised on a farm in central Wisconsin. I spent a lot of time in the kitchen with my mother. I became an expert dishwasher, I’m great at that. And I learned from my mother the art of sharing. I learned that bread is not so much to feed your belly, but your soul. I learned that when you bake for others, you are sharing not so much food but yourself. And we heal one another through food. So, now I’m doing that, and I love what I do.” Greg is, as Dolly reports, a honey, with an easy smile, gentle voice and approachable spirit. He was one of eight children, but his father died when Greg was 11, and he watched his mother raise the children by herself. He informs me that he decided to marry Dolly when he was 14 and she 13, during the 1950s in rural Wisconsin. The wedding had to wait several years, but they’ve now been married for over three decades. These are people who know the value of hard work and community, pulling together with other “good, honest people” to make something […]
Aug 1st, 2003 by Vital Archives
August 2003
Dear Readers, As a community, we love the Harley. Probably more than any otherwise disparate group of mostly non-riders, Milwaukeeans appreciate the growl of the engine, the flash of the chrome and the signature emblem unique to one of our city’s greatest shared treasures. This month marks Harley Davidson’s 100th anniversary, and the party will be long-remembered. We chose to pick a little slice called the Riders Ranch, and tell you all about it. It’s pretty dang cool. Check out the story, and think about heading over. Good seats are still available. Hate has raised its ugly head in Riverwest, but the neighbors are brandishing olive branches and dancing in the streets in answer. See “Riverwest Rising,” this month’s We The People, for more about how this community has come together in the very face of division in its lowest form. This month’s Vital sports several shorter, light reading pieces. If you enjoyed our wine piece last month, check out “Morsels,” Cynthia Vasques’ quest for succulent softshell crabs in landlocked Wisconsin. There’s even a recipe. (We’re not afraid to break the mold that way…) We think you’ll also dig Bill Wandschneider’s piece on con artists, “Slicker than a snake on ice.” He joined a band of them for a weekend, living the life and learning about “the Quickness.” It’s a great story. As we go to press, I am on the way home to Iowa. On July 19th, my grandfather, Russell Rudolph Berard, passed away at the age of 83. The circumstances of his death were sudden and unfortunate, but his legacy to me, and the hundreds of people he quietly helped throughout his life, will live for a very long time. Russ was born to Italian immigrant parents in Des Moines, Iowa. He worked with his hands for the city for most of his life, eventually retiring as a supervisor. For him, this was the beginning of his “real” life in many ways. Uneducated and not exposed to “opportunity” as we know it today, Russ was keenly intelligent, political, and morally outraged at the lack of access to meaningful services suffered by the people with disabilities who fall through the cracks of social services. He spent countless hours — and thousands of his retirement dollars — in the garage workshop of his modest southside ranch home building contraptions to help folks live independently: winches for getting in and out of the shower, mouth-operated wheelchair controls, even a crazy electric leg framework so a young woman suddenly paralyzed from the waist down could walk upright. Some of his inventions were over the top, but all were greatly appreciated. His was a labor of love. He was always there for family and friends. He bailed me out of a number of jams as a rowdy teenager, never spilling the beans to the rest of the family, but “leaving it to me” to “do what (I) know is right” by telling my own parents, at least after the fact. He never judged […]
Aug 1st, 2003 by Jon Anne Willow
Dark horse running
By Greg Sampson The end of June was all about Howard Dean. On Sunday, June 22, Dean appeared on Meet the Press, where Tim Russert attacked just about everything about him, from his stance on the war in Iraq to his health care policies to his “evolved” position on the death penalty. The following day he was back in Burlington, Vermont to officially declare his candidacy for the Presidency. The tone of his speech was visionary and thoughtful, surprisingly devoid of much of the confrontational rhetoric for which he had made a name for himself in the previous months. Finally, by the end of the week the Dean campaign announced that it had raised $7.5 million in the second quarter, the most by any candidate, the lion’s share coming through donations on the campaign Web site. Suddenly the press was talking about Dean, turning him overnight from a long shot, dark horse candidate to an insurgent contender who was pushing significant political issues and forcing his competitors to pay attention. Politics at its’ most unpredictable. It was politics at its’ most unpredictable. Beyond the money the campaign raised, there was real energy surrounding Dean himself. While many of his vocal supporters were liberal Democratic activists angry about tax cuts, the pre-emptive war in Iraq, and the Bush administration generally, much of Dean’s buzz was fueled by unaffiliated citizens. They are attracted to him in part because he represented a departure from the detached, politics-as-usual formula that has come to represent national campaigns in the past quarter century. In Dean they see a candidate unafraid to not only go after the policies of the Bush administration, but also the inability of Democrats to challenge those policies or come up with a competing vision of how government should work. Young, white and wired: profile of a Deanophile. One of the most compelling characteristics of the Dean campaign has less to do with the candidate himself than with who is watching him. Dean has been successful at courting the unaffiliated, many of them young and on the Internet. They represent a class of people with financial power and an established (not to mention expansive) community base; a heretofore largely untapped “market” for politicians. In the past, they’ve not been big voters. That may be changing. These people go online and talk about Dean. Through mailing lists, weblogs, or via community Web sites, people are contributing to a discussion about Dean, and to grassroots, Web-based activism. In Dean’s case, this has proven significantly more effective than traditional marketing and campaigning techniques for getting his word out. I have to confess, I fit the profile of a Dean supporter almost to a tee. My professional and personal life is tied to the Web. I care about politics in this country, but feel disenfranchised by the detached, insular behavior common amongst politicians, who court special interests and narrow constituencies at the expense of the will of the society they ostensibly serve. I am more likely to […]
Aug 1st, 2003 by Vital Archives
Breast is not "best." It’s standard.
By Lucky Tomaszek The first week in August is World Breastfeeding Week, and several international organizations invest lots of time and money into raising the world community’s understanding of the importance of breastfeeding for mothers and babies all over the globe. The decision of how to feed your baby is a deeply personal one, and often starts heated debates. It’s one of the first decisions you will make for your baby and it’s one that most expectant moms spend quite a bit of time reading and thinking about. I want to be clear that it’s not ever my intention to hurt the feelings of any other mother out there, or to anger anyone who has made different choices. I hold the firm belief in my heart that each mother has made the best decision possible for her child with the information she had at the time and based on what she feels will work best for her and her family. Not “best,” standard. The statement “breast is best” is one we’ve all heard for years. It’s in every parenting book, every magazine article about infant feeding and every commercial for baby formula. It’s often accompanied by the statement, “breast milk is a perfect food.” These are very drastic overstatements of fact. I’m going to let you in on a little secret: Breast isn’t best, it’s standard. We were designed as a species to feed our young milk from our breasts. It’s how we got our name, Mammal, from the mammary glands. There are other unique things about Mammals we could have been named for. For instance, we are the only species with hair, and the only species that gives birth to live babies. But it’s our mammaries for which we’re famous. That’s because universally, mammals nourish their babies with breast milk. When you say “breast is best” or “breast milk is a perfect food,” it leaves a lot of room for other things to be good or even great, because perfection is an unobtainable goal. Everyone knows the saying, ‘nobody’s perfect.’ But when we are honest and we say that breast milk is the standard food, it becomes obvious that artificial baby milk is substandard. It’s perfectly logical. The same logic follows for the other benefits of breastfeeding. We are often told that breastfed babies are healthier than their formula fed counterparts. This is another statement that should be turned around. If breastfeeding is the standard, then the babies who are breastfed are not healthier, but simply the standard of health. And so it follows that their formula-fed counterparts (like me) are not as healthy. Think of other, similar statements we hear all the time. Breastfed babies are smarter, talk earlier, need less orthodontic work and have fewer allergies. The list goes on. The logic is easy to follow. Obviously, breastfeeding is not just the standard for babies, but for their mothers as well. We have seen a marked increase in female cancers, heart disease in women, and osteoporosis since […]
Aug 1st, 2003 by Lucky Tomaszek
Morsels
By Cynthia Vasques It has always amazed me that human beings can consume just about anything that crawls or oozes out of the earth. Who was that first prehistoric homo sapiens who picked up a disgusting snail and said to himself, “Mmmm, yummy- looking?” Or perhaps it was a Cro-Magnon future Frenchman who said the equivalent of “Zoot alors, I’ll eat ‘zis thing!” I had always felt somewhat ill at ease when faced with eating something whose legs were arranged on the plate and whose eyes were staring blankly upward, so I therefore had never experienced the exquisite crunch of soft shell crabs sautéed to perfection until our family moved to Milwaukee, where I became completely obsessive about these seasonal tidbits. My husband, the inveterate fly fisherman, has always been able to eat anything that swims including sea urchin, so I really had never counted on liking soft shells even though he had often tried to foist them upon me. So, it was a great shock to find myself ordering them for the first time at River Lane Inn, a long-established scion of seafood located in Brown Deer. Fran, the effervescent hostess who we have now spent seven years getting to know and adore, encouraged the choice that started my ensuing obsession. Since that first taste of crunchy, delicate shell releasing a burst of juicy flavor, I cannot get enough of these crabby little morsels. We have ordered them several different ways from creative chef JoLinda Klopp of River Lane Inn this season. In four recent visits she featured them Cajun-style, which packed a real wallop! Everyone at the table was wowed by them, but I felt the preparation over-powered their delicate flavor so I opted to have them sautéed them in a lemon beurre-blanc, a more classic way and my particular favorite. We have always counted on both of Jim Marx’ marvelous restaurants for our yearly fix of soft shells, and recently chef Thomas Peschong of Riversite in Mequon obliged us withhis unique talents, presenting us with impeccable soft shells. Thomas has been creating exceptional seafood dishes using only the finest ingredients for nearly 13 years at Riversite, and shows no signs of depleting his treasure chest of ideas. He and owner Jim Marx are responsible for some Milwaukee’s most creative pairings of exotic tastes in food and wine, and host frequent wine-tasting dinners. Next season we will be back in hot pursuit of the succulent softshells and other flavors to pass on to you. This recipe is one of Thomas Peshong’s simple favorites to try with your own frying pan! “Maryland” softshell crabs 6 live jumbo softshell crabs 1/2 cup seasoned flour* Peanut oil or olive oil for frying 1 shallot, peeled and diced 3 Tbsp. lemon juice 3 Tbsp. capers (nonpariels) 3 Tbsp. dry white wine 4 oz. (1 stick) salted butter, chilled and cut into patties salt & pepper Clean the crabs by snipping off the eyes, lifting the back flaps over the bodies and removing […]
Aug 1st, 2003 by Vital Archives
