Another Journey: Days 28-30

DAY TWENTY-EIGHT--Friday, June 6, 2008 (End of week four)

Lovely, comfortable place, the Washington School Inn. The room was great--Shelley would have loved it. If only . . . The bed was huge and soft, what they call a feather-bed, I guess, which would not normally have been my choice. I prefer a firm mattress, but this one folded me in its embrace and I slept.

Very warm, nice comfortable, friendly people, a good breakfast--this is the kind of place in which one wants more time. But the road beckons.

The clouds are gone, so as Mule and I pull out we get our first full view of Park City and the surrounding mountains. A phenomenal setting; it's easy to understand why someone would want to get up every morning and take in this vista.

Back on Interstate 80 West we're engulfed in beauty. The mountains are absolutely wonderful. But I'll bet the people who have been here for a long time resent all the development that's going on. Little settlements have sprung up all over the hillsides. They all appear to be tastefully done, but there sure are a lot of them . . .

Suddenly the highway becomes a giant slalom, snaking its way for miles down thousands of feet through a magnificent canyon that eventually brings us to Salt Lake City. Given the beauty of all we've seen this morning it's easy to understand why Brigham Young felt he had brought his people to the Promised Land.

Seeing the city brings back memories, though, some pleasant, some not. I got to know this area fairly well when my partner and I made a movie just north of here in Ogden almost twenty years ago. It was a great time, we were treated well and the picture was pretty good--one of the first for TNT.

The last visit here wasn't fun. William Andrews was about to be executed and I helped his mother meet with Governor Norman Bangerter to plead for his life. It was an incredibly difficult day, as you might imagine. She was magnificent--human, clear, incredibly strong. He was . . . a politician.

Heading west toward the Great Salt Lake makes me wonder if Brigham and his band had second thoughts after getting a mouthful of that water.

Once past the lake, the highway lays out straight as a stick for miles, a ribbon of black bisecting a huge mass of stark white land flatter than Iowa and Nebraska combined. Encircled by distant mountains, this area--plain, desert, salt flats, alkali, whatever--is so barren and inhospitable that it can barely sustain a kind of sickly scrub grass, and that only at its very edges. Miles and miles of this stuff, with nary a tree or a rock to hide behind in the event someone wanted to take a pee.

Then, just off the highway at what I'd assume to be near the midpoint, is a large, odd . . . something. Sculpture? It's a squarish post off of which hang a few very large, round objects, one of which seems to have fallen off and broken. A modern, minimalist Christmas tree? Perhaps an artist's rendering of the solar system? Maybe it's a statement to space aliens--or possibly a gift from them? I'm sure there's a point to it . . . I guess.

Sculpted something behind us, we're back to the huge expanse of white nothingness until a little something brings a smile. Maybe twenty feet off the road in this blizzard of white, a romantic named James has placed a little wire sign announcing to passersby that JAMES LOVES BRITT, only in place of the word loves he's put a heart. "Way to go, James!" I shout.

Mule has no comment.

"Oh, come on, it's sweet."

Silent, he's intent on eating up the miles.

Up ahead, maybe it's all the white, maybe it's the heat, but something plays tricks with the eyes. In the distance, the road looks like it's covered with water. I've seen it before on long drives when it's hot and the road is laid out straight ahead. Alternately, it looks like the road sinks away and a car or truck way up there appears to be floating.

Nearing the end of this phenomenon, a sign identifies it as the Bonneville Salt Flats. Of course, of course, the place where they do all the car commercials or sometimes compete to break the land speed record.

Crossing into the Nevada desert, a dry, mountainous expanse so different from what we've just been through that it's visually interesting . . . for a while. Then I turn on the radio and am lucky enough to find the BBC again.

I caught the end of something indicating that an Israeli official threatened an attack on Iran's nuclear project. I hope they can keep a leash on the hawks over there, because that would be a catastrophe--for Israel, for the entire Middle East, for the world. And, though I only got part of it, this statement seemed somehow to be tied to a huge bump in the price of oil today. Ugh.

Things seem to be worsening in Zimbabwe, as well. It sounds as though Mugabe's forces are so intent on maintaining power and so fearful that the election will spell the end of their dominion that they've given up any pretense of honorable behavior. What they're doing describes the collapse of any semblance of justice in that poor country.

Shirin Ebadi, the Iranian human rights activist who was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 2003, is interviewed. A powerful woman, we met when Human Rights Watch honored her in Los Angeles a year or two before she was awarded the Nobel. Some people are so damned brave it's amazing. Asked about the human rights situation in Iran today, she says it's worse now than eight years ago, but better than twenty-eight years ago.

When asked by the BBC interviewer how she keeps from losing hope, she says, "I don't have the right to lose my hope. If I lost hope I could not do my work."

Representative Keith Ellison, Democrat of Minnesota, hosted a community forum on Iran toward the end of May. Iran scholars spoke and answered questions. All three said the Bush Administration's approach to Iran is counterproductive, only further entrenching the hard-liners at the same time as it makes them more popular among the Iranian people. These men cited the Iranian overture to the U.S., made through the Swiss Embassy in 2003, that offered to discuss all the issues of contention between the two countries--including the question of nuclear power--that was brushed off by Bush and Cheney.

Those two are nuts.

And their friends in the U.S. Senate today kept the Global Warming bill from coming to the floor. Nuts, I tell ya.

There was a .5% rise in the unemployment rate announced today. Rush will have to alter his rant. And Robert Reich, Secretary of Labor under Clinton, says there is no question but that we are in a recession. (In that regard, a guy I met in Park City last night after the presentation is visiting from Germany. He laughs when he hears Americans scream about paying $4 per gallon for gas. In Germany they're now paying $9!)

The skies are clear out here, but the wind is scary. Every once in a while a huge gust surprises us and wants to push Mule off the road. It seems to want to happen just when I'm paying attention to some of the interesting rock formations out here. The way the wind--and probably the water--has sculpted some of these rock faces and pillars is glorious. But OK, Mule, I'll keep at least one eye on the road.

Heading into Winnemucca, Nevada, makes me laugh. An old pal of mine always wanted to visit it, saying it was the only place in America where prostitution is legal. I'm not sure if that's true, but if so it makes me wonder if there will be billboards on the highway advertising the trade. I see none as we come into town, but a sign for one motel offers free movies. Some enterprising pimp should put up one right behind it, saying, Come to the Chicken Ranch; Make Your Own Movies.

And then, lo and behold, on the road as we're leaving town there's a sign for the World Famous Mustang Ranch, with a sketch of a woman's face and a phone number. So maybe it is true.

Jesus. Life, huh?

There are lots of cone-shaped hills in the valley here, making me think this must have been a very active volcano site in some long-ago era. The ground around is strewn with rocks that might very well have once been lava.

Coming onto the Truckee River, the green belt it creates is so vivid it's almost a shock after all the brown we've been through for so many hours. Following the Truckee down through a canyon it has cut through some mountains that look as though they've been wrestled out of the earth, we find ourselves in Reno, Nevada.

I had assumed we'd stop for the night here because Sacramento, where tomorrow's event is, looked to be too far for one day's drive--700 miles. But it's still early, the sun is up and we've gained an hour by crossing into the Pacific Time Zone, so California beckons.

Once past Reno, we're back with the Truckee, following it through another canyon. This one covered with pine trees, a lovely sight after all that dry sand and scrub brush. Climbing through the Sierras is a delight, then we're onto another slalom run down thousands of feet to the valley on the other side. Before my body clock can make any sense of it, we're heading into Sacramento for the night.

A little oops here. We hunt up the bookstore for tomorrow, a Barnes and Noble, and then look for a convenient, nearby motel. Doubletree Inn, full. Red Lion, full. Marriott, full. Best Western, full. What the hell is going on in Sacramento this weekend? We finally find a spot, not so nearby and not so convenient, but Mule is happy, so I am too.

DAY TWENTY-NINE--Saturday, June 7, 2008

I woke up before the alarm this morning with something troubling me. I realized it had been tugging at my subconscious and needed to be dealt with. The Barnes and Noble gig was at noon--they wanted me to be there by 11:30--so I had time to think about it. And I did.

I got ready, checked out and went down to fire up Mule. As always, he started so quietly the only way I could tell he was running was that the dash lights came on. So I just sat there for a while, waiting. That was unusual, so after a bit I figured he was aware something was up.

"I need to talk to you."

More silence, but I sensed a slight up-tick in attention. If he had ears, they'd have pricked up.

"Yesterday, when we were racing through the Great Salt Lake Desert . . ."

There's a slight, almost imperceptible, shiver.

". . . and I got excited about that James loves Britt sign?"

There it is again.

"It's just that I thought it was sweet and you didn't, uh . . . well, it seemed like you didn't kind of 'get it,' you know?"

Now it's clearly a shiver, maybe a quiver.

"Anyway, I've been thinking, and I realize I sort of teased you about it . . ."

Snort. Cough.

"And, I just . . . well, I wasn't thinking. That was out of line. So I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

Cough. Quiver. Snort!

"Look, Pal . . . just take it easy. I don't mean for this to be uncomfortable. All I'm trying to say is that in thinking about it I realized that you . . . you don't . . . Foofff . . . Look, what I'm trying to say is, you, uh, you're a . . . you're a . . . a hybrid. Right?"

Sssssiggggghhhhh . . .

"Right. So . . . you don't . . . I mean . . . you're not . . . there's no, uh . . . It kinda doesn't happen for you, huh?"

"Uh uh."

"Yeah. Yeah, I get that. I mean it just came to me, but . . . I guess I hadn't thought about it, because . . . Well, you know. We've been together . . . and you seem perfectly . . . You know."

Quiver.

"And, uh . . . so, uh . . . emotional . . . stuff. There's none of that with your kind, right?"

"Uh uh."

"Yeah. No, I get that. I get that. I mean we are what we are, right?"

"Uh huh."

"Right."

We sit there for a while.

"OK. Well, I just wanted to be sure you understood that I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"Uh huh."

"And that I'm sorry if I did."

"Uh huh."

"OK. So, we're all right?"

"Uh huh."

"Good. So, I guess it's time to go."

"Yes."

"OK." I reach for the little funky plastic knob on a short stick to put it in Reverse, but I stop. "But you kind of like me, huh?"

BIG quiver! Shake, snort!

"OK, OK, whoa! Whoa! Don't have a breakdown! Easy now! Easy, pal, easy! It's OK. No problem. Not another word. We're going." I put the little funky plastic knob on a short stick into Reverse, back out, put it into Drive and we head down the street.

"But you do. I know you do."

Mule bucks, the tires squeal and we're off. But, unless I'm imagining it, the dash lights shine just a bit brighter.

Barnes and Noble is in a big shopping mall called The Arden Fair and I find a spot for Mule under a tree--it's getting hot--and go in. I'm a bit early, so there's time to nose around while things get set up. Suddenly Ellen Eggers comes up and gives me a hug. A Public Defender here in Sacramento, Ellen is also on the board of Death Penalty Focus. One of the most positive, energetic, kind and thoughtful people I've ever met, she's always smiling, always working, offering, volunteering, finding ways to be helpful. Given the milieu in which she works, protecting the rights of people charged with--often convicted of, guilty or not--quite grievous crimes, her deep well of sweetness is astonishing. Today, typically, she made up flyers about my appearance here and has been handing them out along with literature about our organization (I work with her at DPF). And right behind Ellen is Greg Wilhoit--simply stated, a hero. Greg was tried, convicted and sentenced to death in Oklahoma for murdering his wife. He served 6 years on Oklahoma's death row before a courageous attorney exposed the shoddy work of the prosecutor, proved Greg innocent of the crime and got him set free. Rather than turning into an angry, bitter man raging at what a crooked prosecutor, junk science and the state of Oklahoma did to him, Greg volunteers his time working with organizations like ours. He talks to schools, churches and any group that will hear him about the fixing the chaos and corruption in the criminal justice system and the need to eliminate this awful, dehumanizing process of state killing that almost cost him and 128 other wrongly convicted people their lives.

Soon a nice group is gathered and again we have a good time. These talks--particularly the Q&A sessions--are a lot of fun. I don't know if I ever do it quite the same way twice, except for one story I love to tell, but the people who come are always thoughtful, interested, considerate and appreciative. Periodically I'm challenged about something, the death penalty, for example, but that only provides more opportunity to explain why it's so wrong.

One more under my belt, I unhitch Mule and we head to San Francisco, which will be our base for the next few days. This will give Mule some time to catch his breath and me the chance to do another laundry.

From the news I learn that Hillary has endorsed Obama, beginning the healing process necessary for the Democrats to put together a winning strategy for November. Though I don't like the fact that she continues to use the word "suspend" in reference to her own campaign, I'm glad for the endorsement.

I'm not happy, as well, to learn that Senator Obama, in speaking to the American Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC), has apparently voiced his support for making Jerusalem the "undivided" capital of Israel. That's just a sop to the Israeli right-wing. Resolving the status of Jerusalem should be left to the negotiations that need to be held between Israelis and Palestinians that will establish two sovereign and independent states, living side-by-side, with guarantees of peace and security for both. Within those negotiations a satisfactory solution can, I believe, be found to deal with the desire of both of these peoples to have their capital in Jerusalem. One way to achieve that, of course, is to establish Jerusalem as an international city and provide an area for the capital of each country within its boundaries. But it serves no productive purpose at this juncture for a U.S. leader to make a declaration on Jerusalem's future in favor of one state as opposed to the other. All that does is underscore the U.S. bias in favor of Israel that so angers the Arab world.

Once set up at the Rex Hotel in San Francisco, I get to have dinner with Robyn Hernandez, an old friend and another Death Penalty Focus board member. I've known Robyn since she was in school. To see her now as a mom and a high school teacher is a trip.

It'll be nice to have a bit of time in the city since I'm usually here only for board meetings and then on the first plane home. But I sure wish Shelley was here with me. Me and Mule, I mean . . .

DAY THIRTY--Sunday, June 8, 2008

Up early again, but not so far to drive this day. Henry Tennenbaum's show is live on KRON-TV bright and early on Sunday morning here in San Francisco, so I'm happy to stop in. And it's an extra pleasure this morning as the guest preceding me is Will Durst, a very bright and extraordinarily funny guy who satirizes political figures on both sides of the aisle. Will and I first met when he appeared at a benefit for Artists United to Win Without War, the group Robert Greenwald and I started in the hope of raising the level of debate in the country and awakening the American people before Cheney/Bush invaded Iraq. (We failed.) Will really makes me laugh. To my delight, he has helped us by appearing at DPF's "Stand Up for Justice" comedy night a number of times since.

Henry is fun and very energetic, so he fits a lot of information into a short interview and then I'm out of there in time for Mule and I to make our way to the North Beach area and another interview, this with Brian Copeland on KGO Radio's Newstalk. Brian is another stand-up comic who has appeared for us on DPF's comedy night. He's also a very astute commentator and a talented writer. His book, Not a Genuine Black Man, is at once a funny and tragic tale of his young life and a searing indictment of the racial bias in San Leandro, California, not too many years ago.

Interviews out of the way, our next stop is at Book Passage in Corte Madera, California, about ten minutes north of the Golden Gate Bridge. Elaine Petrocelli, the proprietor, is a passionate champion of books, a respected community leader, and a fierce defender of the endangered independent bookstore. She, her husband, and their events manager, Kate Ferguson, provide their devoted customers the opportunity to meet all the significant authors who pass through the Bay Area and they were even able to slip me into the mix.

This was actually my second time at Book Passage--Shelley and I were here when the book came out in hardcover over a year ago--and the enthusiastic embrace offered today makes it feel a lot like coming home.

The event is cosponsored by Death Penalty Focus and my friends Lance Lindsey and Stefanie Faucher, respectively the Executive Director and Program Director of DPF, are there to provide support, answer questions about our work and offer opportunities for people to become involved. These two are truly the dynamic duo of DPF. Lance is that wonder of wonders, a blindingly intelligent, soft-spoken, dedicated, kind, graceful and completely self-effacing man who does this work because his principles demand it. He's become a true and trusted friend. Stefanie, far too young to have the grasp of issues and organizational genius she demonstrates daily, simply astounds us all with her energy and commitment. Along with another ally, Natasha Minsker of the ACLU of Northern California, Stefanie was named Abolitionist of the Year by the National Coalition to Abolish the Death Penalty. When we end this blight, she will have been one of the primary reasons why.

A large and enthusiastic group has gathered and Elaine, already a regular and generous supporter, introduces me and kindly announces that 10% of any sales during this afternoon's event will be contributed to DPF. The presentation itself seems to go well and, in short, we have a ball--might even have recruited some new members.

In the evening, DPF board member Elizabeth Zitrin and her husband Clint hosted Stefanie, Lance, his wife Ruta and me for dinner at Ristorante Milano, a wonderful little Italian Restaurant on Russian Hill in which they share a part ownership. Elizabeth, an attorney and a fountain of energy, serves not only on our board but is also Death Penalty Abolition Coordinator for Amnesty International, on the board of the ACLU of Northern California, on the advisory board for the Northern California Innocence Project, and represents DPF on the Steering Committee of the World Coalition Against the Death Penalty in Europe, where she chairs the USA Working Group. As said, a fountain of energy.

To read other entries in Mike Farrell's book tour diary click here.