Northwesticles: Into the Sky
Thursday, August 5th, 2010
The Ride
For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel’s sake. The great affair is to move. - Robert Louis Stevenson
Before it was utilized as a marketing slogan by InBev, this is the point where I would say something like, “Here We Go.” It is the first day of Northwesticles: A Public Transit Tour. The longest and biggest tour I have yet undertaken, so, a more complex statement is in order. “Joy is the fruition of a journey rooted in the heart”. I fain trust that will not end up in a beer commercial anytime soon.
Little Rock
This little painted rock in my hand was given to me by an old friend. Not directly however. Victoria, an acquaintance of mine from The Unlikely Theater Company makes these. I hadn’t seen her in many years and I stumbled across her booth at an art festival on Grand Avenue. There she was surrounded by a host of items she has made by hand. Things like the artist: Simple, quirky, fun. There is no other way I would have happened upon an artist like Vickey when I hadn’t seen her in years. You don’t bump into people like Victoria at the grocery store. You don’t realize suddenly that you are standing behind her in a record shop. Not that she doesn’t go to those places. But, when you have worked as an artist with other artists, you tend to find them again as they were when you knew them. You see them when they are creating. Because a true artist is always creating. Victoria Safriet is a true artist. I bought this little rock from Vickey, we chatted, and occasionally her and her guy have come to see some Quixote shows. We know each other through our art.
As we were, we are. Creating. Doing. And just being. Somewhere in every city there are those hunkered down putting their hands and hearts to make something from nothing. To take something and change it. To touch the world. To leave that indellible print. The following twelve days will be me doing just that, and just doing that.
Zero Hour 7:30 AM
Today I climb into that rocket tube and they fire it off with the trajectory and intention of landing in Eugene, Oregon in a few short hours. Tonight at Luckey’s I strike the first note on the Northwesticles Tour. Noone knows what will happen when those wheels touch the ground in Eugene, but I am sure of one thing: “I’m gonna YouTube the s#@% out of this thing.”
So, borrowing the now trademarked words of everyone’s ‘favorite’ American Beverage, “Here We Go!”
Luckey, Luckey, Luckey, Lucky me again.
The “Club Cigar,” as it was called in the late 1800s did not allow women patrons. It was a place for men only. A man could go to Luckey’s to shop for a cigar, shoot some pool, get a shoeshine, haircut and shave, and order a sandwich at the cafe in the back. Over the years, it evolved into a place for older men.
Yes, that’s right. While the young lads were out chasing skirts and scaring up some tail, the Older Gents were sitting around smoking cigars all the while blissfully ignorant of the sheer breath of life and excitement a woman can bring when she’s hollering and whooping it up in a barroom. Which leads me to ask, “What were those old bastards thinking?”
In 1934, in the height of the Great Depression, Tad Luckey, Sr. paid the relatively enormous sum of $300 for a horseshoe-shaped custom neon outdoor sign. At the time, most businesses rented their neon signs, and this is one of the few that survived. In fact, it is the oldest neon sign known to exist in Eugene.
