"That's what sets us apart from other papers," says managing
editor Bryan Pollard. "You're buying the paper from an actual
person, a person living on the streets."
Founded in 1992 by Sharon Pearson as a newsletter for the
now-defunct Bridge School literacy program, the paper was
published under The Burnside Cadillac banner until
December, when Pollard and news editor Michael Parker took
over. They changed the name and began increasing circulation
from 3,000 copies to 10,000 as of this month. The paper
is beginning discussions with Salem's Homeless Outreach
and Advocacy Project this week and hopes to add a Salem
section and distribution network.
To volunteer, make a donation or submit an article, contact
Street Roots at 228-5657 or stop by its office at
1231 SW Morrison St.
--Matt Schwartz
Satan's
Place
There's nothing new about a patient suing
a caregiver for professional negligence. But when the suit
involves a Satanic cult, multiple-personality disorder and
repressed memories, it starts to get interesting. And that
is the world of psychotherapy that Joy Drawdy found herself
in from 1996 to 1997.
On Aug. 9, Drawdy settled a lawsuit she had filed against
Faith Brightwater for an undisclosed sum. Drawdy says she
felt "depressed" shortly after moving to Portland in 1996
and cracked open the yellow pages in search of a therapist.
She found Brightwater (a.k.a. Melanie Cline, a.k.a. Melanie
O'Banion) who struck Drawdy as having a "nurturing voice."
Over the next year, according to Drawdy's suit, the therapist
roped Drawdy into believing that she had undergone abuse
as a youngster, that Brightwater was her biological mother
and that they were "both past members and victims of the
Satanic Cult." Drawdy also came to believe that she and
Brightwater were both in constant danger from the cult.
"I was so wrapped up in believing and experiencing the therapy,
that I believed her," Drawdy says.
That belief led Drawdy to consider leaping from a downtown
bridge. Instead, she called a crisis hotline; soon after
that, Brightwater ended their relationship. Drawdy filed
suit in state Circuit Court last year, asking for $2.5 million
in damages.
Drawdy's experience is similar to that of Jennifer Fultz,
an Aloha homemaker who sued her therapists in 1995, claiming
they convinced her she had been abused by a Satanic cult
("How I Beat the Devil," WW, Sept. 25, 1996).
The settlement, which is for an undisclosed amount, will
be covered by Brightwater's malpractice insurance.
--Philip Dawdy
Hack
Attack
George Van Hoomissen has been trying to sell
Broadway Cab for years. Now it looks like he's found a
buyer. Last week, Steve Fowler, president and CEO of Yellow
Cab of Denver, Colo., held a series of meetings in local
hotels to get acquainted with Broadway cabbies.
No one from Broadway or Yellow Cab would comment on the
pending sale.
The sale would likely have to pass muster with the city's
Bureau of Licenses, according to bureau director Jim Wadsworth,
who says the city may inquire into the technical, legal
and financial qualifications of the new owner. So far,
however, the city has not yet received any notice about
a potential sale.
The price tag for the Broadway fleet also remained under
wraps as WW went to press. But it may not have
been as high as Van Hoomissen hoped. Cab companies have
been facing increased competition from town cars, airport
shuttles and medical-transportation providers. "The last
few years in the cab industry have been kind of challenging,"
says Tom Alexander, the day superintendent at rival Radio
Cab.
--Chris Lydgate
Where
Have All The Felons Gone?
Five years ago, in the midst of a heated political
debate, critics of Measure 11 made a frightening prediction.
Pointing to a study done for the Oregon Department of
Corrections, they prophesied that if the tough-on-crime
measure passed, the state's prison population would rocket
by more than 60 percent, from 7,125 in July 1995 to 11,474
in July 1999. The resulting pressure for more and more
prison beds, they fretted, could bankrupt the state.
Well, July 1999 is history, and there are only 9,246
inmates in the state's system--or half the expected increase.
So where did all the potential prisoners go?
Like many Measure 11 backers, Steve Doell thinks the
estimates were bogus from the start. The president of
Crime Victims United says opponents of Measure 11 (whom
he calls "the Chicken Littles of the world") cooked up
a false forecast to create the appearance that Draconian
new laws would force a prison-building boom.
In addition, defenders of Measure 11 say its critics
never appreciated the ways that mandatory minimum sentences
would curb crime. State Rep. Kevin Mannix (R-Salem) says
something of a street-level multiplier effect is at work:
When the most serious felons are serving long sentences,
then the most frequent offenders are taken off the streets.
Finally, there's the theory that Measure 11 has had a
chilling effect on potential felons. "People who used
to face probation for assault now consider their act,
because it'll mean six years of their life," says Phil
Lemman, executive director of Oregon's Criminal Justice
Commission.
Whatever the reason, the lower-than-expected inmate numbers
have prompted changes in Salem. The Department of Corrections
has pushed back prison expansions at Madras and Lakeview
for a full year, while postponing indefinitely construction
at Junction City and White City, prisons originally slated
for completion in 2005. Perrin Damon, the department's
spokesperson, notes that the postponements are merely
"delaying the inevitable" and that eventually ground will
be broken on new prisons.
--Philip Dawdy
Happy
Feet
The Oregon Ballet Theatre spun enough bicoastal
buzz from New York City last week to turn Tina Brown green.
A preview of OBT's New York debut ran in the Sunday, Aug.
1, The New York Times, followed by two glowing
Times reviews, Aug. 5 and Aug. 7, and a plug on
Fox News.
"One never expects this kind of press," says OBT's artistic
director, James Canfield. "You just hope for it."
Canfield gives much of the credit to Ellen Jacobs Associates,
a Manhattan-based PR firm that works exclusively for dance
companies. The firm covered the city with a press release
that promoted the performance's hip-hop angle and OBT's
10th anniversary, then targeted individual reviewers.
With a magazine like TimeOut New York, aimed at
younger urbanites, the firm stressed that the audience
would find something hip at this performance. Others were
approached with the entire performance program, emphasizing
its different layers and Canfield's classical background.
It seemed to work.
"In New York, there is so much competition for coverage
of the performing arts," says Laura Goldberg, a publicist
with the firm. "To get Fox News there and have them run
a segment on the evening news is a big deal."
While most reviews were positive, Clive Barnes of the
perpetually hemorrhoidal New York Post described
the performance as the kind of ballet to which a "dance-happy
wife drags her couch-potato jock husband...the end result
being that said jock-potato decides that it's not too
bad."
The New York Times dance critic Jennifer Dunning,
who knew of Canfield from his days with the Joffrey Ballet,
wasn't thrilled with the Friday performance of Canfield's
Edie (which didn't go over well with Portland audiences
either). But otherwise, she was impressed. "I think I
would have known this was a company from outside New York
had I gone into the show cold," she says. "It was so refreshing;
it had its own distinctive quality."
--Michaela Lowthian
Corrections
Our review of the film The Haunting ["Doors
Wide Shut," July 28, 1999] should have identified
Julie Harris as the actress who portrayed mousy Eleanor
in the 1963 film.
In last week's story about the proposed North Macadam
District ["Got Backbone,"
Aug. 4, 1999], the city economic consultant's estimate
of private-sector investment in the district without any
public funding should have been $320 million.
Reed College's assistant dean of admissions ["Reed
Has a Dream," Aug. 4, 1999] is Lynn Makau.
WW regrets the errors.
The
Changing Nature of Police Work
The Portland
Police Bureau is conducting an internal investigation
to determine whether one of its officers was a victim
of a hate crime--at the hands of his fellow officers.
Ever since joining the bureau eight years ago, Officer
Damon Woodcock has always looked and acted more like a
man than a woman. Last year, Woodcock legally changed
his sex from female to male and started the medical
procedures to alter his physical appearance. However,
during this transition period, the patrol officer still
used the women's locker room to change from street clothes
into uniform. Woodcock didn't shower there and wore his
underclothes while changing. There were few, if any, concerns
voiced by female officers.
But earlier this year, Chief Charles Moose met with Woodcock
and told him to move into the men's locker room. Woodcock
was taken aback. There is one other transsexual officer
in the bureau, and he was given an assignment during his
transition period in which he wore street clothes, so
the locker room wasn't an issue. Woodcock, on the other
hand, was faced with the quandary of one day changing
clothes with women and the next with men.
Some male officers apparently weren't happy about the
situation. Last month, shortly after he moved into the
men's locker room, Wood-cock's locker was defaced. Someone
had drawn a circle around his name on the locker and put
a line through it--a clear symbol that Woodcock wasn't
wanted there.
But instead of telling Woodcock about the incident, higher-ups
ordered the graffiti washed from his locker. It wasn't
until days later that Woodcock found out from a friend
what had happened.
Police spokeswoman Det. Sgt. Cheryl Kanzler says the
bureau is conducting an internal investigation of the
incident. "Due to the sensitivity of the investigation,
we're not releasing any more information," she said. "I
have to appeal to a sense of decency here."
Woodcock, meanwhile, feels unsafe. As a patrol officer,
he has to count on other officers backing him up. The
graffiti, in addition to the cold reception he received
in the locker room from male officers, makes him question
the support of his colleagues. Initially, supervisors
assigned him a partner to allay those concerns. Woodcock
has since taken temporary leave from the bureau.
--Maureen O'Hagan
