Over-the-counter culture
Remodeled grain elevator to house gallery of shops
The Fifth Street Public Market. The
Smeede Hotel. The Atrium Building.
Hip capitalism in Eugene is big
business.
With the opening of the new Jef
ferson Elevator Wednesday, the shape
of Eugene’s over-the-counter culture
has taken a new twist. The Elevator,
located at Fifth Avenue and Jefferson
Streets, is, according to owner
originator Duke Rich, “a total design
conoept that doesn’t compare to
anything else in Eugene.”
Plans for the remodeled grain
elevator call fa an acre of specialty
shops to locate within the forma feed
Morehouse and grain bins beginning
this fall.
But just how many leatha boutiques,
imported coffee shops and pottery
outlets can this city support? Ac
cording to Rich, there’s not only room
for another alternative style Valley River
Center, there’s a demand.
“We’re going to have a complete
By HEA THER McCLENAGHAN
Of the Emerald
gallery of shops here,” Rich says.
“What we'll have is an active shopping
center where people will enjoy being.
Most people who have seen it have been
pretty impressed. We’re after people
who are enterprising enough to join the
Elevator and realize it is a good place to
open a shop. It’s going to be a real
money maker.”
If that doesn’t sound like the voice of
the run-of-the-mill long-haired
businessperson in Eugene, don’t be
surprised. Duke Rich is not long-haired
and resents any association between
his enterprise and the Eugene arts and
crafts community. .
An indoor Saturday Market it is not.
When the Elevator has reached
completion it will include at least five
restaurants, a pool hall and card room,
a 170-room motel and convention
center complex with a glass elevator
running to a nightclub perched atop the
converted grain elevators.
Envisioning success for his venture,
Rich says, “Everybody will like to hang
out in a round room 14 stories in the
air.”
On opening day, only a handful of
businesses had moved in, although
most of the floor space has been rented
to import shops, antique stores and
other small retailers.
Rich says he will begin approaching
large retail establishments. So far, he
says, large retailers have shied away
from the Elevator because, “they have a
reel misconception of the place. They
don’t want to move in with a bunch of
hippies.”
The smell of grain still lingers
throughout the Jefferson Elevator.
Stacks of grain sacks lie in unused
corners of the complex. Two of the big
elevators are still filled with grain.
“You know this has gotten to be like
the Statue of Liberty for Eugene,” Rich
says. “Nobody even knew it was here
until we painted a 14 story sign on it.”
Debates arouse fear and doubt in reporter
By MIKE McCLAIN
Of the Emerald
The optional spaghetti dinner
was advertised lor $1.50. I
couldn’t resist; I had visions of a
sauce thick with onions, green
peppers, mushrooms and garlic,
sauteed and simmered for hours,
nestled up to slowly disin
tegrating tomatoes. A hint of
oregano, sage and thyme. Garlic
bread covered with butter (boiled
with minced garlic) and topped
with hand-grated parmesan
Saliva filled my mouth as I
neared the front door of the Lane
County Democratic campaign
headquarters for their spaghetti
feed and debate watch.
This was a chance to satisfy
two long standing desires.
First was the longing, for a wall
prepared spaghetti sauce.
The second was a desire to rate
the local strength of the gen
tleman from Georgia, Carter, who
placed third in the Oregon
primary and was soundly
trounced by California Gcv. Jerry
Brown in Lane County.
Had he bean able to dose the
ranks since the convention? Had
his much publicized “wide but
shallow river'’ of support -
deepened in Lane County where,
before the primary, It had con
sisted of a barely moistened
riverbed?
As I walked through the door at
5:30 p.m., when the feed was
scheduled to start, I grew a little
wary. The odor of a fancy
spaghetti sauce, after simmering
for several hours, would per
meate even a room the size of
this. I smelled nothing.
Not only that, but only three
people were there.
Had I made the ultimate
reporter's blunder? Was I at the
wrong place at the right time?
One of the three assured me I
wasn’t. “This Is It." They also
assured me the sauce was boiling
in the back.
I began to get a feeling about
the degree of Carter's support
when I entered the room. The
headquarters is a narrow
building, maybe 20 feet wide with
a recessed entryway. The en
trance creates a wedge of space
next to the door and this is where
the large “Carter-Mondale" sign
is. Highly visible to walkers-by,
but when you enter the room
you’ve already passed their area
and your attention diverts to the
large photos and desks of Jim
Weaver, Nancy Fadeley and
even the Democratic outlaw
Archie Weinstein.
Is Carter the uninvited
alcoholic mother-in-law who
arrives the weekend of a big
party, is introduced then ushered
quickly to a room out back?
At 6 p.m. there are 12 people
here, sitting around the large
table dividing the majority of the
room, eating spaghetti and
watching the local news.
My culinary hopes have been
thoroughly dashed. It turns out
the sauce consists of Tomato
sauce and hamburger. That’s it.
And even the noodles have been
botched. No one salted them and
in a fit of overindulgenoe, I over
compensate. I’m forced to
concentrate on the politics.
As it nears 6:30, the time the
debate is to begin, the crowd has
grown to about 30. Four TVs are
set up around the room — one on
a different channel than the other
three — and six men on the other
end of the table have polished
off a half-gallon of Madria-Madria
Sangria with their spaghetti. Or
maybe because of their spaghetti.
The conversation turns to the
debate.
“Carter's been boning up for
this one. He shouldn’t do too
bad." “Yea, arel he’s said he’ll be
more aggressive." I get the
feeling there was some disap
pointment about Carter’s per
formance in the domestic debate.
A young guy named Tim sitting
next to me says Ford doesn’t
know foreign issues; it’s all
Kissinger's show. I tell him
“didn’t you know Ford’s got a
mike in his ear on a direct line to
Kissinger?" He takes me
seriously for a moment.
Someone twists the non
conformist TV into line Just in
time for the introduction by
Pauline Fredricks of NPR We
now have full coordination.
Carter gets the first question
and as he begins to argue about
the Ford administration's secrecy
and lack of sensitivity, a late
coming woman sits down across
the table from me and twirls a
forkful of spaghetti to her mouth.
As Carter expounds, she begins
to chew. She grimaces. It’s a toes
up whether the grimaoe is the
fault of the food, Carter’s
southern accent or his ideology,
but I’d be inclined to vote for the
latter.
Immediately I’m faced with
another Judgment. Everyone has
finished eating and they're sitting
back in a fit of general unax
dtement as Carter finishes Ns
first answer. It could either be
what I call the “valium effect” of
spaghetti — whether it’s good or
bed, when you’re finished, your
first inclination is to go to steep
— or these people are not entirely
sold on Carter. This time I vote
for a toss up.
A pattern begins to emerge as
the questions and answers swing
from the Democrat to the
Republican.
Ford stands on Ns record. How
can he manage this feat when
he’s constantly got one foot
firmly in Ns mouth over such
issues as our involvements in
Chile, Angola and Korea; and
then shoves it all the way down
Ns throat on the freedom and
autonomy of Eastern European
countries, is beyond me. The
audience groans, guffaws,
snickers and says “I don't believe
tNs” in uNson. As a group, these
about the man, or are blindly
committed to the party.
But most are watching and
listening closely, judging
everything this man says. It’s like
they're not sure if the things he’s
saying he stands for are the same
things they want to stand behind.
I get the feeling Carter is the
only one debating up there. And
he’s not debating with Ford. He’s
debating with the minds in the
room.
And these are the party
regulars, the workhorses, the
ones doing the precinct work, the
polling, the voter registration.
The ones on whom the weight of
a winning campaign falls. Ifs
less than a month till the election
and these Democrats still haven’t
made up their minds.
The debate pulls to a acse.
The candidates’ answers, if
somewhat pedantic at times,
were informative and illustrative.
workers to stay and watch the
immediate newscaster reactions.
It was only 8:15 p.m.
The place was cleared out,
except for four of us, by 8:20.
One of the four was James
Klonoski state chairer of the
Democratic party:
I’d call it a draw. It was very
informative. Ford had the
psychological advantage of the
incumbency. Also, since he
assumed the office two years
ago, he’s been depicted in the
media as a bumbler. If he can
stand up there for 1 Vz hours and
not make a total clutz of himself,
he gets points.
“Carter was strong, though. He
was playing this game in the
President's backyard and I think
he made points.”
The lack of Carter reaction by
the observers?
“Carter is not a real familiar
figure here. He’s not an FDR or a
staunch Democrats are firmly
opposed to President Ford.
But Carter...here’s where the
unison stops. As he explains his
desire to open up the conduct of
foreign affairs; to treat our allies
as true friends, to desist in our
support of dictatorships; to
cease being “arms merchant to
the world;” there is a clap here,
“all right” there and the oc
casional raising of a clenched fist
in victory. But these are scattered
and coming consistently from the
same few, who are either
satisfied — even enthusiastic —
Carter has shown much more
acute sense of the jugular, much
more assertiveness, and he's lost
much of that built-in Southern
respect for an institution. Ford
was strong despite the problem
of trying to talk around a mouth
ful of foot.
I expected to be able to observe
an enthusiastic conversation
about the debate; a debate
amongst these Democrats as to
how badly Carter beat Ford;
discussions about the next
debate, anything. I expected
these highly involved political
JFK. He’s only been In the
national spotlight for a year.
“Yes, I’m comfortable with
him. And I think most of the
party is as comfortable with him
as can be expected within one
year. He’s doing alright.”
I look around the deserted
room, at the empty bottle of
Madria Madria, and wonder.
I came with visions of a
culinary treat, backdropped by a
crowd of wildly clapping, en
thusiastic Democrats.
I received neither. And I
wonder about the lack of spice.
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