4 Winter 2017 Applegater
Losing everything to fire
BY GREELEY WELLS
room by room. It
In the 1979
was terribly hard;
Laurel Canyon Fire
I cried during the
in Los Angeles, I
process. All that
lost everything—
was gone was still
the house in which
in my memory, and
my children were
it was deeply sad to
born, my car, my
be forced to think
wallet, almost all
about every object I
my artwork, and
once had and to put
all my possessions.
T h e S a n t a Like Greeley’s house, this is all that remains of a a price on it.
neighboring house after the
The rollercoaster
Ana winds were
devastating 1979 Laurel Canyon Fire. continued for about
blowing hard
(Photo: LA Times.) six months. I got a
as I was outside
small apartment on
sweeping and
cleaning and moving a pile of firewood. Venice Beach and a VW bus and began to
I saw that a tiny fire at the bottom of my feel whole again. Slowly, things began to
hill—a quarter-mile of dry chaparral—was fall into place. My identity returned. After
going to be at my house in moments. But it all, I am an artist, with or without any art.
Surprisingly, within two years I had
took me three times to properly dial the fire
department number that was on the wall about as much stuff and art as I’d had
near my rotary phone, and what I finally before the fire and had to move to a bigger
got was an untrained girl (pre-911) who place. That’s when I started to realize
never seemed to fathom the information I that I wasn’t defined by my possessions;
was trying to give her. Ultimately, I said to I was a complete person who simply had
the girl, “It’s here at my house!” and threw possessions. My being has nothing to do
the phone down. I ran to the neighbor’s with the objects in my life; I am fully and
above my house where I had sent my two completely myself.
How else could I learn a lesson like
young girls and jumped in the back of
their car with them. As we sped down the that? So many other insights and growths
steep hill in reverse, I got one last look continued to appear that the overall “good”
at my house: the flames came up the hill of the situation began to outweigh the
and swirled by the roof overhang, rose 30 “bad.” By a long shot. A certain confidence
or more feet into the air, and swept across and strength became mine. I was remade.
the roof. The house was doomed, and so I could talk about plenty else after that
were 23 other houses that afternoon. Mine six-month period.
This summer, after almost 40 years,
was the first.
At the Canyon Country Store at I faced fire again. I was put on Level 1
the bottom of my hill, I got out of my evacuation notice due to three fires in the
neighbor’s car with my two little girls, Miller Complex, each about 1-1/2 miles
holding each by the hand. There we stood, from my home of 27 years on Carberry
after escaping with our lives. I was wearing Creek Road. This time my mind played
speedos and a pair of flip-flops, sweat was with the possibility of loss again, but,
pouring down me, and fear was probably luckily, in a sort of slow motion and with
in my eyes. I phoned my ex, Cathleen, and knowledge and experience. Having lost
my girlfriend, Laurie. They both showed all of my worldly possessions and learning
up—the girls went to their mother’s house, first-hand that it is not the end of the world
and I stayed with Laurie for a time. The allowed me to relax this time around and
next day my home’s ashes and chimney simply prepare to evacuate. Luckily, we
didn’t have to.
made the front page of the LA Times.
I’m hoping that my story may have
The next six months were spent talking
about almost nothing else and replacing some meaning to my Applegate neighbors,
necessary items: checks, driver’s license, etc. who may have been facing some of what
But that stuff is just details. What I was I’ve already been through. There is a
really feeling was the loss of my identity as tomorrow. All will be all right. Life comes
a person and an artist. How could I be an back in all its wonderful ways with some
artist if I had no work? Without a driver’s new learnings, insights, and growth that
license, who was I? At least I still had a job you can have no idea about at the time.
Let’s all thank the firefighters who got
and was recognized there, even in borrowed
clothes. When I sat at my desk, I could still us through this. In Laurel Canyon I never
work on animation. So my identity slowly even saw a firefighter; it was all over for
began to come back, even if I was homeless. me before they could respond. Here they
Generous friends and acquaintances worked tirelessly for months and, finally,
came forth with all sorts of gifts—household our skies are clear.
Greeley Wells
items, clothing, and other thoughtful stuff.
greeley@greeley.me
The insurance company immediately sent
me a check to see me through this initial Note: If any of our readers have gripping
period. But the most difficult thing I had experiences like Greeley’s that you would like
to do for the insurance company was to share, please submit them for publication
list every single one of my possessions, to gater@applegater.org.
Christmas tree
permits available
For many families, venturing out onto public lands to cut a Christmas tree is an
annual holiday tradition, but be sure to obtain your permit first!
Required permits are available at locations across southwest Oregon, including the
US Forest Service, Bureau of Land Management (BLM), and multiple local vendors.
Permits, which allow the cutting of personal-use trees for Christmas and other holiday
events, are $5 per tree and are nonrefundable. There is a limit of five tree permits per
household, and the permits may be used only on those lands open to Christmas tree
harvesting that are administered by the Rogue River-Siskiyou National Forest and BLM.
For more information about permits, visit Rogue River-Siskiyou National Forest at
fs.usda.gov/detail/rogue-siskiyou/about-forest/offices or call the Medford District BLM
at 541-618-2200.
BOOK REVIEW
Petty, the Biography
Warren Zanes
I’ve read quite a few biographies about
musicians over the years because, as I
told my ninth-grade school counselor, I
was going to be a rock star, so who needs
school? My counselor pointed out to me
that you still need to know math, English,
etc. I responded with “I’ll be rich enough
to hire folks who know all this BS.” I
didn’t learn much, but I finished school
and became the “unknown rock star.”
Hey, if you can’t dream big, why dream
at all? Tom Petty always dreamed big, and
Warren Zanes, an accomplished musician
himself, captured Petty’s dreams, successes,
and failures beautifully in what’s become
one of my favorite biographies.
A few days after I told our editor,
Barbara, that this was the book I was going
to review for this issue, she called and
said, “Did you hear? Tom Petty died of a
heart attack.” I hadn’t heard that dreadful
news yet. When I did, I needed an adult
beverage or two.
Tom Petty was born in 1950 in
Gainesville, Florida, to Earl and Katherine
Petty. He was the first of two sons. Earl
was half Cherokee, making Tom a quarter
Cherokee. This never bothered Katherine,
but in America at that time, 99 percent
of the population favored laws banning
interracial marriages. There has never been
any shortage of screwy laws, has there?
Petty’s father had a horrendously bad
temper, was very abusive (subjected Tom
to severe beatings with a belt), and had a
taste for the bottle. His mother was the
nurturing parent.
Like for most kids at that time, life in
the Petty home was nothing like “Father
Knows Best” or “Leave it to Beaver,” which
was one of my favorite shows as a kid
(Eddie Haskell was my favorite character).
Like Petty, a lot of kids I knew sat at the
dinner table with lunatics.
At the age of ten, Petty’s Aunt Evelyn
took him to meet Elvis Presley, who was
starring in the film, Follow that Dream,
which Tom’s uncle was involved with. A
few days after shaking the King’s hand,
Petty traded his slingshot for a box of 45
records. A few years later, after seeing the
Beatles on the Ed Sullivan Show, Tom,
like many of us, knew what his calling
was. Music!
Petty started out playing six- and
twelve-string guitars with his first band,
the Sundowners. As Petty came up through
the ranks, there were a lot of soon-to-be-
famous guys playing in the music scene in
Gainesville, Florida. He made music with
some of them—David Mason (Utopia
and Jackson Browne’s touring band), Dan
Felder (The Eagles), Bernie Leadon (Flying
Burrito Brothers and The Eagles), Stephen
Stills (Buffalo Springfield and Crosby,
Stills, and Nash), and Duane and Gregg
Allman (Allman Joys and The Allman
Brothers). Those guys all became power
hitters in their own right.
From Gainesville to Los Angeles to the
top of the music charts, Petty had a wild
ride. A lot of his hit songs are classics, like
“Breakdown,” “American Girl,” “Refugee,”
“Free Falling,” “Mary Jane’s Last Dance,”
and “I Won’t Back Down.” The list goes on.
Bob Dylan had Tom Petty and
the Heartbreakers backing him for
an 18-month-long world tour. They
also backed Johnny Cash on one of his
best recordings, Unchained, that won a
Grammy for Best Country Album. Petty
was also one of The Traveling Wilburys, a
supergroup that included Bob Dylan, Roy
Orbison, Jeff Lynne, and George Harrison.
I love this part: Petty was the first
musician to successfully challenge his
record label in court after he realized just
how bad his contract was and how the
label had screwed him out of his publishing
royalties. Then, when the Heartbreakers
record Hard Promises was ready for
release, MCA Records decided to raise the
customary price for a record from $8.98
to $9.98. Petty told the label he wouldn’t
release the record unless they lowered the
price back down to $8.98. The war was
on and MCA finally gave in. Most artists
never win a major battle with their record
label. Tom won two!
From the dream (rock star) to the dark
(depression and heroin) and back, Petty the
Biography is an excellent read about one of
America’s great artists. Tom Petty will be
greatly missed.
J.D. Rogers • 541-846-7736
Poetry Corner
Winter Solstice
by David C. Shiah
Sun returns, sheds light but no warmth
Mighty Orion commands the pure night sky
Moon rides low, quiet
Life giving rains nourish the land
While streams swell and forests rest
Timid deer and hoot owls hunker down
Siskiyou peaks don their snowy blankets
as woodstoves devour their offerings
Season of inner contemplation, renewal
Ahhh, welcome winter’s tranquility
