letters
TO THE EDITOR
SINISTER PLOT?
In the case against three Lane County
commissioners, Judge Gillespie did not
see “a bright line” in the law — that was
his phrase. So he invented unprecedented
new law, finding violations by four
commissioners in sequential, one-to-one
conversations. The Register-Guard has
relentlessly criticized Handy and Sorenson,
minimizing the judge’s finding that,
“even Stewart participated in the process
in violation of the Public Meetings Law.”
This was not what the plaintiffs intended
when they targeted three commissioners,
including Fleenor. They intended to
paralyze a progressive majority.
It was impossible at first to know
who the plaintiff really was. Dumdi and
Anderson didn’t pay for the case and
wouldn’t say who did. Seneca Lumber
Company couldn’t be a plaintiff, as
its interests would come up in county
deliberations. Without revealing her
sponsor, Dumdi pretends to be concerned
about open process — a claim that defies
credulity.
When they spoke outside meetings,
never as a quorum, the commissioners did
not reach any decisions. The case probes
personal emails, dwelling on Handy’s
exuberant anticipation and advocacy as if
it were some sinister plot.
Following
routine
procedures
essential to effective functioning of
any government, three commissioners
provided support for constituent services.
Administrator Spartz has referred to the
dollar amount as “trivial.”
Incidentally, assistants for constituent
services could be employed for years at a cost
far below the price of this malicious lawsuit.
Elaine Weiss
Eugene
EYE ON PUBLIC GOOD
The value of the honest and thoughtful
service offered by Commissioners Pete
living out
Sorenson and Rob Handy is enormous.
Pete has been a competent public official
for years. Rob worked hard to win the
privilege of representing his district,
meeting virtually every constituent. Since
then, he has devoted his considerable
energy and commitment to navigating
the sharp learning curve in a new
commissioner’s life. Both attend many
community meetings, contributing to the
discourse and staying informed about
issues that affect us all.
The basis of the decision in the
commissioners’ case is not obvious to
me. Can conversations among any pair
of people with the same challenging job
description be illegal? Everyone who
works with others solves problems by
chipping away at them in odd moments
in the workplace. Some may be willing
to spend hours deliberating at meetings.
But most of us try to keep these formal
occasions more efficient by investing
in the personal conversations that allow
open expression. Our goal is to keep
public utterances civil and brief, making
decisions in public without wearing out
the audience.
“Respectful of citizen time” and
“efficient” are terms that apply to public
officials who do their homework so
that their transparent, on-the-record
performance is focused on the public
good, as they see it. “Sham” is not the
word used for this intelligent approach in
other settings.
I look forward to continued excellent
service from Sorenson and Handy and to
their vindication in the appeal.
Mary Leighton
Eugene
DIZZY BY GILLESPIE
It is hard to be a politician behind
progressive ideas, a representative of
underprivileged people vulnerable to
society. Does Rob Handy resign his human
EDUCATION VS. MUSHROOMS
We have the money to police, arrest,
prosecute, lawyer up, defend, room,
board, guard and supervise people who
raise mushrooms to sell to adults who
eat them at hippie music shows. We
do not have money to fund adequate
education programs for the children of our
community. We’re more than $20 million
short of a very poor job in Eugene alone.
How can we afford prevention laws and
forces for Deadheads dancing under the
influence of mushroom intoxication, and
not afford to educate our children?
Who are the crazy people making
these choices? We are making bad
choices; education leads to good choices.
It would be better to use our resources to
fund education for our children than to
give a damn about Deadheads, one way
or another. Mushroom-inspired hippie
dancing is not a big problem in my life.
How about yours?
Daniel Betty
Eugene
BY SALLY SHEKLOW
Seeing Joan
Bring on the comedy
I
took a seat with my three gal pals in the
wheelchair row. This vintage concert hall was
old, ornate and fabulous, like the performer we’d
come to see — Joan Rivers. Yes, THE Joan Rivers, the
Emmy-winning, Can we talk? force-of-nature comedy
diva gay icon, at the Schnitz, one-night-only.
The lights dimmed and the audience cheered,
including our back-row gang of four — four Jews,
three chubby AARP card-carrying dykes, two breast
cancer survivors, one wheelchair user. Bring on the
comedy!
The Oregon Symphony was the opening act.
A faggoty guest-conductor in a tux and shiny shoes
pranced onto the stage and had the crowd laughing
in no time. A quick check-in with my posse verified
we were loving the conductor. He introduced the first
piece, the overture from Gypsy.
While the musicians played “Everything’s
Coming Up Roses,” two men in our section proved to
be, shall we say, courtesy-challenged. A short, shiny-
headed fellow a few seats in front of us, stumbled
along his row, staggered up the aisle and returned
4 JANUARY 27, 2011
rights to a private life outside of politics?
Is every meeting considered a “quorum”
resulting in character assassination?
The Gillespie ruling, the law of
public meeting loosely defined, and the
allegations against Handy and Sorenson
leave me dizzy. I am outraged when
politicians in Washington, D.C., get away
with lining up votes, and Bush gets away
with murder never being sent to trail for
war crimes while Handy who works his
butt off for the people is being slammed
by this ridiculous court ruling!
Firm in democratic principles, Rob
Handy is the last person to do a backroom
deal.
Ceila Levine
Eugene
EUGENE WEEKLY
with a plastic cup of beer, not likely his
first of the evening. Brewski sloshing
in one raised hand, rhinestone clutch
waving in the other, he sidled to
his seat. He and his friend talked
and fussed. Shushing from nearly
everyone in our section proved
useless.
Beer Boy was not happy. In a
booming slur he hollered Where’s
Joan? We Want Joan! I didn’t come
to listen to no fucking orchestra!
An usher tromped down the
aisle, snapped her fingers, pointed her
flashlight and told the noisy boys they’d have
to leave. The 30 or so of us within earshot of this
good news applauded, leading the conductor to think
we especially appreciated his witty introduction to
The NBC Theme.
Beer Boy and his date, a lanky, goateed guy,
obeyed Madame Usher. People stood to let them
pass, but the burly man who had the aisle seat
shoved Beer Boy, toppling them both to the floral
carpet. From the dark floor arose an audible thud
and a responding oof. We gal pals exchanged OMG!
faces.
The lurching date wobbled in the aisle yelling
Get your hands off my boyfriend! You’re assaulting
my boyfriend! Queers really are everywhere,
even among the heckling riff-raff.
Ushers swarmed down, broke up
the fight, and escorted the offending
couple out. An armed cop hauled away
the husky assailant. More OMG! looks
exchanged.
We missed most of “The Pink
Panther.” I felt a special bond with our
section, though. We’d been through this
traumatic incident together, understood
each other’s suffering, and now we were
united.
The guest conductor, oblivious, launched
into the orchestra’s last number, a rousing rendition
of “The Stripper.” Applause spread to a full-on
ovation when Joan made her grand entrance. She
grabbed the conductor’s baton and led the symphony
to the song’s bumping and grinding finale.
How we cheered. Joan Rivers! Foul-mouthed
woman of power, still working at 78, still making it
in a man’s world, still headlining, still poking fun at
Jews, lesbians, old people, fat people, breast cancer
survivors and, as she delicately puts it, fucking
cripples.
Thanks for recognizing us, Joan. We see you, too.
Award-winning writer Sally Sheklow and her as-yet-unlawfully wedded wife
celebrated 23 years together last November. They live with their two cats in
Eugene.
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