Oregon daily emerald. (Eugene, Or.) 1920-2012, May 09, 1977, Image 7

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    Poetic Hoohaw hosts “let it be” atmosphere
There were balloons every
where and kids blowing bubbles
and the music of flutes lifting Mac
Court higher and higher and I was
thinking something wasn’t quite
right.
Paul Krassner, publisher of the
Realist and stand-up comic of the
Left, took the stage and an
nounced that this year was the
10th anniversary of San
Francisco s Summer of Love and
listening to him and looking
around at the bare feet and long
skirts, damn if I couldn’t help but
wonder if this was another Be-In
or was it a Was-ln or what?
The Second Annual Poetic
Hoohaw was underway at Mac
Court.
God-seeking fools reaching out
into the void, or was it Micheline
echoing, "These are good times,
man, don’t ask those kind of ques
tions, just go down there and be
part of it. Enjoy!”
So, Krassner was up on stage
flapping his arms like a bird to test
reality, he said. If he flies he is
dreaming, he is aboard the great
LSD roller coaster before he en
ters the amusement park. And
what is the reality check for the
reporter? The question. And the
Answer.
“It’s mellower, now,” says Alan
Ginsberg, not embarrassed to use
a stock phrase. “The cloud of
egotistical angriness has been
By NICK GALLO
Of the Emerald
In an afternoon interrupted by a
hard rain, people simply put plas
tic tarps over their heads and con
tinued watching the Eugene Thea
ter Company’s "Androcles and
the Lion.” But when the rain kept
coming, people took off for Mac
Court, shook the dampness off
and settled down.
Kesey led oft with a yoga chant,
the New Mime Circus did a skit
combining mime with rhyme, the
Flying Karamatzoh Brothers
brought in some vaudeville and
poets read their poetry.
But this is 1977, right? I mean,
how in the world does all this fit?
Was this a revival of an ancient rite
of spring or was this some anach
ronistic happening, some over
exerted reassurance that the
Woodstock Nation was still alive?
And then I was talking this over
to Jack Micheline, a San Fran
cisco poet who never lost his
Bronx accent, who told me to stop
intellectualizing and just dig on the
good vibes, the good energy be
cause this Hoohaw is one of a
kind, it’s special, he said.
And it was amazing, was it not,
that 3,500 people could get to
gether in order to be together, to
be part of this Poetic Hoohaw,
more than just to view headliners
and, yes, it was amazing — so
kick back and slow down, let the
music of Rashaan Roland Kirk
wash over us all, let it be.
And then a women handed me
a bottle of wine in a paper bag and
I looked up to see that she was
someone I met briefly about six
years ago when the Odyssey, the
New World and the Augur were
heralding a new path in
Eugene...and one sip of wine
was too much, it was too sweet
and delicious and symbolic a mo
ment to let go by...Just So! in the
words of Tom Wolfe.
And wasn’t it Wolfe who said
that historians will look back on
the 60s not as a political happen
ing but a religious awakening —
“There are some moments when
Let It Be’ and Do It’ become the
same thing,’’ intoned Krassner
Saturday.
There, in the Hoohaw poster it
self, a human figure with arms up
lifted, hands chained together
reaching through something
primeval and black, reaching to
ward a bizarre set of teeth which
hover over and above the figure,
and there — a playful rocket
zooms out of the mouthful of teeth
with the words Hoohaw emb
lazoned across its side.
If not the answer, was that the
question? Was that what this
artist’s carnival was all about —
despelled, the hysteria is gone
now. The 60s had some beautiful
things but it also was entangled in
aggression, the ‘Kill the Pigs’
thing. There was too much
paranoia, too much feeling like we
were at the edge of the
apocalypse. People are looking
for clarity now.
“This is a communal gathering
here, something that was talked
about in the 60s, but rarely hap
pened," he said, gazing at the
crowd now swinging as one to the
jazzy music of Kirk and friends.
“We re exploring consciousness
so much now that it’s almost be
coming ordinary."
And yet there was a subdued
quality to Mac Court Saturday. To
use a horrible word, it had an
‘ adult" feeling to it. And Krassner
noticed it, too.
"This is a time of lost inno
cence," he said, with an impish
smile. But then he continued in a
serious vein. "All these people
here grew up with Kent State as
memories. These people were
weaned on Watergate — they're
not fooled as easy anymore."
And as if to prove Krassner a
prophet, a San Francisco poet
named Floyd Salas read a poem a
few moments later which featured
as its dimax the repetition of the
word, “Pussy.” Immediately the
crowd booed and hissed and
screamed, no need for a weath
erman to know which way the
wind was blowing.
“In the lonely flight, they came
with words,” read one poet. And
with music and mime and fantasy
and the spirit of celebration. In a
sense, the hoopla within the
poetry festival, the entertainment
which bordered on distraction at
times, occasionally reduced the
poetry to filler for music and
magic.
But then Tomas Fuentes had
said it a week before the Hoohaw
happened. “It’s like the stained
glass in churches,” he said. “You
need a certain amount of flashi
ness to get people inside the main
event.”
But by midmgnt people were
leaning back, relaxing in a kind of
poetic stupor. The cameras had
for the most part stopped clicking.
Alan Ginsberg took the stage. He
read a long poem, one that
sounded nice to the ear, but ran a
bit too fast. And then he began a
musical chant:
“Sit down when you sit
down/Breathe when you
breathe/Look when you look.”
The words were simple, but
they glowed. The melody filtered
through the huge gymnasium with
a simple power that put everyone
at ease. He repeated them over
and over and the crowd took the cue
and answered him:
“Sit down when you sit
down/Breathe when you
breathe/Smell what you
smell/Hear what you hear.”
And as the voice of the crowd
grew stronger in response, I found
myself sitting back, putting the
notebook away, even singing:
“Sit down when you sit
down/Lay down when you lay
down/Die when you die.”
i
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Bus. Ph. 342-2912
2025 Franklin Bivd.
Eugene, Ore. 97403
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40th St Donald
Eugene, Oregon
345-8289
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of excellence in Eugene-Springfield.
The EMU Cultural Forum, in conjunction
with the Black Arts Festival, presents
DR. QUINTARD
TAYLOR
historian, researcher
& consultant
Dr. Taylor will present a slide-lecture
dealing with
«<i
»*
Black Communities in the
West:
Portland and Seattle*
Friday, May 13, 1977
Rm. 167 EMU 12:30 p.m.
FREE