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 German reliable service for your foreign car. AUTO SERVICE VOLKSWAGEN MERCEDES • DATSUN • TOYOTA GUENTER SCHOENER Bus. Ph. 342-2912 2025 Franklin Bivd. Eugene, Ore. 97403 Home Ph. 746-1207 40th St Donald Eugene, Oregon 345-8289 Are you into music? Visit MUSIC CITY ... we have a fine selection of. . . Dulcimers ... Kalimbas ... Autoharps . . . Folk and Classic Guitars ... Yamaha band-instruments ... Ludwig drums . . . Zildjian cymbals . . . Cat Synthesizers ... come out and see us ... we’re open weekday evenings until 9... plenty of parking at our front door... SPECIAL: 25% off the list price of any new guitar we have in stock when purchased with its case at the regular price ... MUSIC CITY ... located in the Edgewood Center ... for 21 years ... a musical tradition 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