Only on Catalina

by Chuck Liddell
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Now that summer is officially here, I thought it would be both nostalgic and educational to explain how summers were enjoyed in the 50’s and 60’s on Catalina Island. Summer jobs for young people were limited only by their imagination. Some carried suitcases in their little red wagons, or rickshaws (I had one) to the hotels and homes in Avalon, when the passengers disembarked from the boats and seaplanes. I would normally charge 25cents per bag, but others would do it “comp” and simply accepted tips (they tended to do a lot better this way). For the adventurous and those wanting to bring in the big bucks, diving for coins when the S.S. Catalina and the Blanche W boats came in was the way to go (sometimes I made $15 per day!). Generally the less skilled swimmers would dive in the shallower waters on the South/East side of the Steamer Pier (approximately where the Blue Water Avalon is now located, 306 Crescent) for the Blanche. The better swimmers would dive on the North/West side — which I did from the age of 6 to 13 (1953-60). As the ship would come within view of Avalon, Miss Catalina speedboats would go out to meet them with their sirens blazing. They were generally driven by Doug Bombard or Rudy Piltch. When I felt in the mood, I would water ski around the steamer, which was exciting, but stupid! Considering the size of the wake the Big White Steamer made and the long periods of time it would take to be picked back up if/when I fell off my water skis, each run was accompanied by a major risk of being hurt (or worse). When diving for coins, we would normally wait for the Catalina to arrive at noon and then dive off the seawall and start yelling, “Throw a coin! Let’s see some silver!” It normally took an hour for all of the passengers to leave the ship. And some stayed behind simply to watch us perform. This performance was repeated again when the ship would leave at 4pm. At the foot of the pier, “Duke” Fishman would lead hundreds of locals and tourists in this greeting ritual of the 2,000 passengers with “Hi neighbor, what’s cookin? Bacon, wanna strip?”, along with the song “Avalon” and any other tunes and questionable comments that he had added to his repertoire since he started doing this in the later 1930s. There were “hawkers” who represented the different hotels. Carl Bailey, “Mr. Big” (6 feet 7 inches), would interview some of those coming off the ship who already had family members on the island that were anxious to know if they had made the long voyage ( 2 1/2 hours) safely. They were able to hear their loved ones voices over KBIG radio.

With all of this dive money, some of us would go to Mother Gray’s, 501 Crescent, where Joe Gray would make up a BIG hamburger for 25cents, with cheese for an additional 10cents, or a hot dog for 15cents, and place the main course on a large paper bag full of french fries (which cost an  additional 15cents). Money went a long way in those days. College students found that they could take their dive money and stay a weekend at the Island Villa bungalows (location of the Tour Plaza and Golf Gardens miniature golf course) for $21 and still have enough money left to show off to their date with a nice dinner ($3) and dancing in the Casino (25cents). Sometimes  I didn’t want to stay on the beach, so my friends and I would throw a baloney sandwich together with chips and go to the Bird Park, which was free, up until the middle 60’s when the price soared to 25cents, to visit all the birds. After visiting our favorites, we would bike up the storm drain to the Wrigley Memorial to enjoy our lunch. As this area was fenced off and the massive copper doors were locked, we would come in the side way from the East storm drain and then muscle our way up through the openings on the West side of the Memorial. We would then go up to the top of the back of th wall ( I was scared to death) and sit in the archway that overlooked the canyon and have our lunch. When finished, we would coast down the storm drain, generally trying to do so with the minimum use of the handle bars…and we’re still alive to talk about it!

When family or guests came over to visit, which was frequent in the days when travel was only around $2.50 each way, we would have to forgo our moneymaking and cater to their whims. We would often take them on the world’s largest side-wheeler glass bottom boat, the Phoenix, generally finding Capt. Eddie Harrison at the wheel. We would take the Island Tour in a canvas covered bus that would stop at El Rancho Escondido, where award winning Arabian horses were raised. My cousins would be enthralled by the cowboys putting some of the horses through their drill of maneuvering through obstacle courses or showing off the best of the horses by demonstrating its ability to cull out a particular young bison or calf. The tack room was spectacular! Back in town we could get a pony cart from the stables and the pony would know the hour tour, so all you had to do was sit back in your wicker basket and let the pony do its thing. For those who truly wanted a thrill, the Diving Bell at the Casino Point (West of the stairs leading to the Dive Park) would more than fit the bill. If you wanted a good swim and also liked to sun bathe at the same time, you could always go to the beaches in the harbor, where there were two floats off the beaches on their side of the Pleasure Pier. One of the floats even had a high dive. If we wanted to be a little more adventurous, we could go to the Bath House (where the volleyball courts are currently — just before the Mole) and could dive off the high dive — and it was high.

Pt.2.

They had a rowboat tug of war and jousting contests, if you wanted to get more involved and have an audience, especially if you had that special girl you wanted to show off to…

They normally used the salad boats (boat used to clear the harbor of floating kelp and debris). Generally you would want to stay near the beach, as whenever a swordfish or marlin, or other large fish was brought into the harbor, a cannon would go off to let everyone know that the fish was ready to be weighed at the end of the Pleasure Pier, to the East of the Fish Market.

Dozens of bathers would rush out to get close and personal with the fish and try to guess its weight before it was shown officially.

As a beach diversion, if you were lucky, you would be able to jump on a horse drawn hay ride or take a tram to Casino Point.

The evenings were filled with activities, too.  I would often attend square dancing (two of the groups were called Bumble Bees and Skippers) that would be followed by youth dancing in the Wrigley Plaza.

Pt.3.

After the dancing was over, they had an old fashioned slide and sing-along set up on the Wrigley Stage. Once it was dark enough, Duke (also a quite renowned photographer) would show slides of Catalina and other romantic locations around the world.

In between some of his educational slides, he would slip in pictures of very scantily “undressed” young ladies — much to the horror of parents who had young children watching. These kids were certainly getting educated…but much too early! If you wanted to see beautiful women with a bit more clothing on, then there was always the Miss Flying Fish beauty pageant for the ladies, and the all male Swim/Flying Fish Club, where young men would be initiated by having themselves doused with the entrails of flying fish, buried up to their heads in sand, and then, with a flying fish hanging from their necks, would swim from Casino Point to one of the two piers.

On special occasions, the flying fish boat, Blanche W. (named for Ada Blanche Wrigley, the first of William Wrigley Jr.’s three grandchildren), was taken on a “cruise to nowhere” when the passengers, and many times the captain and crew, didn’t really know where they were going. But wherever they ended up, fun was guaranteed.

If you wanted to simply sit back and enjoy an evening boat trip, you could pay 25cents to get on the shore boat and, as long as there was still room, you could stay on the boat all evening as it took many celebrities to and from their magnificent yachts. On land there was the Starlight Tour buses that would take passengers through the town and up over the hills to show how spectacular Avalon and the mainland looked at night!

There commentary was kept to a minimum, but with an accordion being played, the Isle of Romance really proved itself to live up to its name!

My job was to go to Joe’s-Rent-A-Boat and find out what unwanted live fish had been caught and brought back to the harbor by the fishermen.  These often consisted of small sharks and octopuses. They would be displayed in a trough at the top of the ramp at Joe’s for people to enjoy looking at during the day, or pick out for that evening’s dinner. I would take the rejects by bucket and dump them into the Wrigley Fountain, which would act as a makeshift aquarium. Unfortunately, more often than not, big kids would follow behind me with liquid detergent and squirt it in the fountain, which would eventually kill all of the fish! On certain nights the Casino Ballroom with a live orchestra would be provided for the young people to try out their ballroom dancing skills for free!

These same bands would then play well into the early hours of the morning so that their sounds could be heard all through town.

We had a sundeck on our home at 330 Descanso, where we slept during the warm summer nights. (My grandfather had built all of the homes on Descanso for the Santa Catalina Island Co. in 1921, in hopes that veterans of the Great World War would decide to set up residency in Avalon. It rarely worked out this way.) I would drift off into slumber land listening to the sounds of all the big bands of the day…it was magical! And even when the big bands packed up and left, the Mariachi bands would reliably roam Crescent Avenue both day and night.

Curfew, if I recall correctly, was 9pm. The movie, with its cartoon, travelogue, and countless previews, would change every single night. If the movie ran longer than curfew, Police Officer Bosque (note that the L.A. County Sheriff Department didn’t come to the Island until the early 1960s) would stand on the upper road and, without saying a word or having to gesture, herd us juveniles along the Via Casino walkway to the center of town where we would disperse directly home.

Office Bosque knew all of us and where we lived. If any youth deviated from the most direct route home, he would remind us of where we lived and made sure that we were on the right path! (It is funny looking back on this as none of us seemed to feel that we were being treated unfairly, as we had agreed to this arrangement, which allowed us to go see a film that let out after curfew. We just followed the rules and everyone got what they wanted.) Sometimes we were even allowed to go down to the beach with our parents in the wee hours of the morning when the grunion were running! When the adults wanted to do “their thing”, like going to dances, having a romantic dinner at the Country Club, or going to one of our many night clubs, the youth would have a great time at the El Encanto, which served as our youth center.

At the El Encanto kids could dance, meet with friends, listen to records, watch television, play ping pong, or just hang out, until their parents came to get them. This was all set up through the Community Church and was well chaperoned (although we never seemed to feel their presence). We were having too much fun! On the 4th of July, the fireworks were set off at Casino Point and we were allowed to set off our own displays on the beach on the South East end.

Yes, life WAS different then. It was corny, old fashioned, and some would even say that it bordered on “nerdy,” but we loved it and boredom was something you had to force on yourself because there was so much to do. I know that the expression, “Life was better in the old days!” is often considered simply a way for us “old folk” to try to romanticize our youth, but in Catalina’s case, it is well documented to be true!

 

 

Women of HERstory: Rosie the Riveter(s)

by Constance Rux
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When you think symbols for the “feminist movement” I am sure, depending on the decade you hail from, several images come to mind. Maybe various versions of the Greek symbol for Venus, the gurl power fist, most recently the pussy hat, or more unconventionally – the #’s (#timesup #metoo). Somewhere along the way (and, surprisingly, probably not when you think) a poster of a young woman dubbed “Rosie the Riveter” was added as a symbol of feminism. So I wanted to know – who was this woman? How did this WWll poster come to be? What was it trying to accomplish? It is now widely accepted as a symbol for women to look to, and a rally cry of sorts: “We can do it!” Yay…Do what though?

In the 1940s women still had very limited control over their financial lives and what jobs they could have. Title VII wasn’t until the 60s, and it wasn’t until the mid-70s that women could even take out a loan at a bank without bringing a husband or other male relative with them. So what is this poster talking about? Was it really what it seemed to be?

During WWII the workforce in the US was suddenly and drastically changed forever: Women and minorities were suddenly allowed to go and join the workforce. This was viewed as a necessary, but temporary, decision by business and national interests alike. You see, supplies and munitions were required to continue the Allied war effort. As France was under foreign occupation and the factories of the United Kingdom were often targets for Luftwaffe bombs, America was primarily responsible for Allied production. As businesses secured hefty government contracts to supply the military, they encountered a personnel problem: most of the young men were drafted and deployed. Women and people of color, previously shunned from the workplace and intentional kept from certain industries, were now needed and relied upon to fill the factory floor. But this does not mean that they were accepted into the workplace with open arms. In many cases, in fact, they were given the most basic jobs, with sub-standard pay, while the men who were still employed at these factories were swiftly promoted to open up these lower positions. Needing to hire a woman during a time of war was different than accepting women into the workplace: soon, soon enough, the men would come home and they (the women) too would go home.

The original Norman Rockwell painting of “Rosie” in 1943 was of a woman in factory clothing, on her lunch break, with her feet propped up on a copy of Hitler’s “Mein Kampf.” It was a wide spread image at the time, as Rockwell was a well known artist. It served as a reminder to women that it was patriotic and desirable for them to find jobs outside the home (for now). Women were “doing their part” for their country. Norman Rockwell had a young girl in his hometown pose as the model for this painting. Her name is Mary Doyle Keefe. She was very proud to be the model for this endeavor and there are multiple interviews with her as an elderly woman, recounting this experience, on youtube. (I encourage you to watch one of her interviews, she is a very sweet lady.) The painting itself is full of symbolism. By working, a woman could help trample Hitler. He chose a very specific pose for Rosie. It was to reflect the pose of Isaiah from the Sistine Chapel. By doing so he was not only referencing that women in the workplace were doing God’s work, but showing the figure of a woman literally in a man’s position.

The popular version we think of today as the “Rosie the Riveter” image is actually just know as the “We Can Do It” poster. It was not, in fact, a battle cry for women in the 1940s. It was akin to the cute kitten poster we have today where the kitten is hanging with all her might onto a branch under the words, “hang in there.” It was created for the Westinghouse Electric and Manufacturing Company in 1943 and wasn’t used nationally. Most people outside of the factory never even knew the poster existed. However, because of the popularity of the Norman Rockwell painting, any and all women who were being portrayed as a working female as propaganda were being blanketed as a “Rosie.”

By the 1980s, when this poster came back into the public eye, it had been adopted into a new meaning. That women could do everything a man could do. That “we can do it” too. What many women who dress up as Rosie for Halloween, or carry the image so proudly may not know is that the image was not a campaign in the 40s to fight for the equality of women. It was an inspirational campaign created by a company that needed to keep women in the workplace happy, and working hard. Without actually giving them equal pay, positions, or a job they could keep once their male counterpart returned from war.

I, for one, am glad to see it adopted, and adapted as the times change. It is a powerful image. Reclaiming it as a feminist image rather than what it was intended to be does have power. However, if you do not know the HERstory of the image, that the image has been claimed over to the side of feminism rather than created as such, then you have missed some of the key battles for the fight of equality along the way.

 

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If Flowers Could Hear…Oh, Wait! They Can?

by Carlos de la Rosa
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Walking around Catalina’s interior these last few weeks has been a hugely enjoyable trip into the world of flowers, insects, pollination, and life in a Mediterranean climate island. There are millions of flowers popping out of the ground. Some trees, such as the fragrant feltleaf ceanothus (Ceanothus arboreus), one of three species of Ceanothus on the Island, buzz with insects visiting the tiny flowers that bloom in large bunches that cover the entire tree. Their sweet scent is intoxicating to bees and humans. Insects also visit the spectacular big yellow flowers of the giant coreopsis (Leptosyne gigantea) and the stunning pink blooms of the Santa Catalina Island bush mallow (Malacothamnus fasciculatus var. catalinensis). It is all part of a great circle of life, where plants and insects collaborate in their endless quest to reproduce, obtain food, and build the next generation.

Flowers spread their genes (encased in those minute, dust-like particles produced by the flower’s male parts and called pollen) through various means. The white and purple Island shooting stars (Primula clevelandii var. insularis), for example, produce pollen that needs the buzzing of insects, particularly bumblebees, to be released. The bees literally shake up the flowers with their buzzing wings, and this releases the pollen. This pollen then gets attached to the insects or flies into the wind, eventually finding its way to the stigma or female parts of other flowers, closing the circle of fertilization. These flowers also have interesting structures and colors, which are clearly attractive to insects.

The colors of flowers are actually more vibrant than what our human eyes can see. Many insects, for example, can see into the infrared area of the light spectrum. In this range, other colors and patterns on the flowers appear, which guide the insects towards the center of the flowers where they can find their rewards (nectar and pollen). Some flowers are also shaped in such a way that they can reflect the heat from the sun towards the center of the flower, like a parabolic shape, or sonar or satellite dish shape. Some insects hide inside flowers that close at night, taking advantage of this warm shelter.

But here is where the story gets really weird. What if some flowers could actually “hear” or sense the sounds made by the beating wings of insects and increase their nectar production to attract more insects? Yeah, this sounds incredible, I know. But in recently published research this is precisely what is happening. Researchers from the University of Tel Aviv, in Israel, have documented the phenomenon on one species of plant whose flowers seem to be able to detect the sound of insects and increase their nectar production within minutes. Doing experiments with the beach evening primrose (Oenothera drummondii), which grows wild in the southeastern United States, they documented the yellow parabolic-shaped flowers responding to the sound frequencies and recordings of bee wings berating to produce some 20% more nectar than when exposed to other wavelengths of sound. The parabolic shape of some flowers has also been documented in the rainforests, where some flowers use this shape to attract pollinating bats by reflecting back the ultrasounds produced by the bats as they hunt and look for nectar.

Looking around at the Island’s flora, we can see many species that have shapes similar to those shown by the primrose. And many insects including bees, bumblebees, flies of all sizes and colors, wasps, butterflies and moths, beetles, and more, visit them throughout the summer. Could any of the flowers can also “hear” and reward their pollinators? Looks to me like a fertile area of new research!

In a future article, we’ll talk about the importance of insects to the health of both, natural and man-made (agricultural) ecosystems. No matter how annoying people may find them, without insects—bees in particular—our agricultural systems would literally collapse, and the natural splendor of a wildflower show like the one we are witnessing this year on the hills of our beloved Island would come to an end. Our lives are made more precious because of all these creatures, great and small. Learning about fascinating and astounding features such as the ones being discovered right now only makes us appreciate more the value that nature and wilderness have in our lives.

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Want to learn more about this phenomenon?
Check out the links below!

The original article on the subject of plant responses to pollinator sound can be found and downloaded at this link: https://www.biorxiv.org/content/10.1101/507319v1

And here is an article on the subject in Spanish. Y aquí un artículo sobre el tema een español: aquí

Awaken Your Worth

by Sky O’Connor
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It’s been almost a year since I stopped wearing makeup. It’s crazy to think that up until last summer I hid my face from the world, never wanting anyone to see the real me. This big change has not been easy, but it has been a goal of mine for YEARS.

From the time I was in middle school, I started wearing makeup everyday, to hide my blonde eyelashes and my blotchy skin. I was ashamed of what I perceived as “beady rat eyes” and uneven red areas on my face, as well as my teen blemishes, all making me feel like the way I looked wasn’t good enough, that I wasn’t attractive

So I hid my face. I covered it so nobody would see my imperfections and nobody would know that I was a human with pores and sensitive, fair skin, and light eyelashes. I was so uncomfortable with the way I looked without makeup that I didn’t even recognize my natural face without the mask. I envied women who didn’t wear any makeup and looked beautiful. I wanted to be like them, but I felt that I couldn’t . For me, wearing makeup was a non-negotiable part of my routine: I had to wear my makeup to be accepted and loved — To be considered beautiful.

5 years ago I developed severe chronic acne after going off birth control pills, and the hiding and shame got even worse. I would spend so much time putting on makeup to try and cover all my blemishes. I stopped going to social events, I didn’t even want to be seen out in public, and became depressed and very anxious. Of course, the makeup and the stress were making my acne worse, and I was becoming more and more discouraged and more insecure about how I looked. I kept trying to fix myself, feeling like I was ugly and not good enough. Like people would look at me in disgust. I was so ashamed.

Then one day it clicked. I was talking to a friend who brought to my attention how hard I was on myself. He asked me, “Would you speak to a little child that way?” I was shocked. I never even realized how mean I was to myself. That moment was a big turning point for me, because my answer was definitely no, I would never speak to a kid that way. So why should I talk to myself that way? I had also been reading blogs of other women who had gone through the pain of having horrible acne, and on their healing journey, had realized it was just as important to love and accept themselves and believe they were beautiful as it was to find the solution to what was causing their acne.

I started doing the mirror work, looking myself in the eyes and saying:
“I’m beautiful no matter what.”
“I am worthy and special.”
“My acne does not dictate my beauty or my worth.”
I looked past the acne and saw my whole face, my beautiful face, my smile, my eyes. That is what people saw when they looked at me, not my skin imperfections. I started to examine the ways that I spoke to myself, bringing awareness to how hard I was on myself. I started speaking to myself kindly and lovingly, like I would speak to a child. I started practicing lots of self care, taking Epsom salt baths, meditating, going on nature walks, journaling every day. Cooking nourishing meals for myself, basking in sunlight, only using natural products on my skin. I was on a mission to heal myself from the inside out. I was learning to love myself, no matter what. It took a while for my acne to start clearing up, but what it taught me was radical self love. It taught me to see myself as a whole, to not identify with an imperfection, but to love that imperfection. It taught me that I am so much more than my physical appearance, and it taught me that I am beautiful, because I am a living, breathing soul with a heart and a purpose. It taught me that the way towards healing is through self-care, unconditional love, and acceptance. It taught me to have compassion for myself, and in turn, for others. It taught me to release shame and to be vulnerable with others, which showed them that they could be vulnerable with me. And it showed me that I wanted to help others love and accept themselves and care for and heal themselves.

I knew as my acne started to finally clear up that one day I would strive to be one of those women who did not wear makeup and was naturally beautiful. Moving to an island where I got to swim in the ocean and be in the sun and hike every day freed me from caring about how I look, and the more days go by without waking up and hiding my face, the more I get used to my bare skin and the natural face I see in the mirror. It seems so normal to me now, to wake up and not fuss about what my face looks like, to let my skin breath, to step into the world confident in my natural beauty.

Now I don’t even want to wear makeup, but I can choose to put some on for fun, like an accessory if I am going out or something. There is nothing wrong with wearing makeup, but for me, there was something wrong with the fact that I felt I NEEDED to hide my face from the world. But I now recognize the face that I see when I look in the mirror, and I now realize that I was one of those women with natural beauty all along. I just needed to learn for myself, which is why I am ultimately grateful for the three years I suffered with severe acne. It was my body and my higher self helping me become the woman I am meant to be, one who unconditionally loves and accepts herself no matter what, and is here to show others the way. I now realize this all happened FOR me, so I could step more fully into supporting other women on their healing journeys toward more self love and their true authentic, worthy, radiant selves.

My name is Sky O’Connor, I’m a Worthiness and Relationship Coach and I empower women to step into the most worthy version of themselves so they can attract aligned relationships through spirituality, sensuality, and self love.

If you would like to connect with me and find out about my coaching program or see more of my content you can find me on social media: Facebook.com/skyworthinesscoach and Instagram.com/skyworthinesscoach

 

From the Avalon Library Archives: The History of Catalina Cookbooks!

by Paul Birchall,
Avalon Library Manager
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As Library Manager at Avalon Library, I was quite complimented when the editors of Cazuela approached me to ask if I’d like to write a little about some of the Catalina-related items in our (and your, really) local collection. At this time, many of our more fascinating holdings are in storage while we renovate the library. However, we’ve brought some wonderful, historical items with us to the Express Library at 210 A Metropole, across the street from Catalina Museum.

An element in our historical collection that I find particularly interesting (and entertaining) is our quite large collection of locally created cookbooks. You should come on in and see them! Avalon Library has a particularly engaging series of non-professional (meaning self-published), community-created cookbooks. These are generally spiral bound volumes, created as fundraisers to support various local institutions.

The way to Avalon’s heart is, of course, through its stomach – and home grown cookbooks of the past provide an incredibly fascinating snapshot of Avalon’s history: What people found delicious in the past often changes with time. And, in Avalon, thanks to the new gourmet-strength offerings at the grandly reopened Vons, foods are now available on the island that (in years past) folks would have had to cart over on the boat. But there’s also something to be said about the simplicity and delight of casseroles and icebox cakes.

Not only do the contents of the library’s local cookbook collection showcase lots of food that folks found delicious in the past, they also provide a haunting portrait of Avalon’s even more oceanic past.

For instance, the wonderful Catalina Island Fresh Fish Cook Book, published 1976 by the Catalina Island Yacht Club Women’s Auxiliary, offers a number of extraordinary dishes. One particularly intriguing, and very simple, recipe is for “Quick Sautéed Sand Dabs,” a regional specialty:

“Dress the sand dabs. Into a paper or plastic bag, put corn meal, salt, pepper and paprika, and shake to mix.” After sautéing until slightly brown, “drain on paper towels.” Fish accompaniment: “Mix equal parts of mayonnaise and regular mustard, beat for 1 minute.” The recipe concludes, “All ingredients can be kept in ship’s stores – you need only catch the fish!”

 

Image courtesy of the Avalon Library

Catalina Kitchen, a Collection of Recipes, a 1952 book published by Avalon School’s Parents and Teacher Association, crackles with enchanting cuisine to delight the Eisenhower Era Palate. I’m not sure I’d go for the “Frankfurter Noodle Casserole,” with its recommendation to “drain boiling water from franks, add to noodle mixture, add can of mushroom soup.” However, I’d gobble up the “Apple Nut Pudding” right now. Catalina Kitchen, a Collection of Recipes, also offers an amazing recipe for Catalina Wild Boar, which certainly was a possible delicacy for carnivorous hunters back in the day:

 

“Marinate boar in Milani 1890 French Dressing and fresh garlic. Soak overnight in refrigerator. Roast as you would any other roast, basting often!” I’d also quite enjoy some of the astonishing dishes made with abalone, which pop up throughout Catalina Kitchen. “Abalone Pot Roast,” is one truly intriguing-sounding meal. “To prepare abalone for pot-roasting, first clean and trim in the usual way. Pound piece gently on both sides until edges are pliable but not soft and limp,” the recipe describes. “In a Dutch oven, lightly brown the abalone on both sides. Add tomato sauce and wine. Bake for 1 hour or until abalone is tender.” Delish!

Abalone also features prominently in the truly luscious Catalina Island Fresh Fish Cookbook, a 1991 locally published text that features a number of mouthwatering fish dishes. The recipe for “Saute’ed Abalone Southwest” describes how to make delicious, lightly breaded, pounded abalone steaks. “Be careful pounding,” author Charles Walters notes, “This takes time and a lot of care not to pound holes through the steaks!”

Catalina Island Fresh Fish Cookbook also offers a recipe for Abalone Burgers, which suggests cubing an abalone steak and then putting it through a meat grinder. “Do not try to use a blender or a food processor to grind the abs. It won’t work!” Walters describes how a friend of his tried to make abalone burgers using a food processor. “Looking at that abalone milkshake a-swirling, and a-foaming around in there with little black specks shooting by, I knew I didn’t want to eat one of those things.”

From the 1973 Campus by the Sea’s Tried and True Cookbook, we find a wonderful recipe for preparing Peace Burgers from local abalone. But this cookbook provides much in the way of folksy comfort fare, with mouth watering recipes for Cowboy Coffee Cake, Pumpkin Bread, Sourdough French Bread, and Daddy’s Favorite Date Bread. While I was working on this article at the library, several young patrons were so amazed by the bread dishes, they all Xeroxed the pages from the cookbook, including the recipe for Refrigerator Cake, an idyllic concoction filled with whipped cream, semi-sweet chocolate, and lady fingers. I warned the young patrons that the librarian expects to sample any treats made from these books!

A sampling of the cookbook archive available at the Avalon Library. Image courtesy of the Avalon Library.

Occasionally, an offbeat humorous sensibility shows through this collection of local texts. Recipes: Ship ‘n’ Shore, 1976, written to support the Catalina Island Yacht Club Women’s Auxiliary, boasts a fascinating recipe for Elephant Stew. “Catch 1 elephant and stew 4-5 weeks, seasoning well with salt and pepper. If more servings are needed, put a rabbit in the stew, but don’t let the guests know, since they may not like a hare in their food.”

Come visit us at the library and we’ll take you on a delicious walk down memory lane as we show you our cookbook collection!

Women of HERstory: Mothers of Punk, The Third Part

by Constance Rux
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When I started this three-part series, I didn’t know where it was going to end. To be honest, as I started this article – The Mothers of Punk, The Third Part – I rewrote it several times before I decided on how I wanted it to go. A lot has happened over the course of the past few days in the media regarding performers. I decided I needed to address this. The Gayle King interview of R. Kelly hit prime time, the “Leaving Neverland” documentary hit Netflix. The internet has exploded with images, interviews, news articles, and the one thing I can’t get out of my mind: that these two male artists got away with what they were doing for years. YEARS. They were allowed, yes allowed, to continue what they did because of their celebrity. Because of their sellability, their stage presence, their ability to speak to a mass audience. A mainstream audience. The people who came forward to speak against them were shut down because…because… I am at a loss. Because they were female? Or children? Because they were unknown? Because they are a minority? Or more to the point – because the men they accused made a lot of people, a lot of money? (I vote that one)

But this is 2019 and the #timesup #metoo #muterkelly #yesallwomen #fem2 #allmencan #rapeculture #speakout #standup #weareallrealsickofthisandarereallysureitneedstobeovernow

But isn’t this a his(HER)story piece? Yes. So why am I bringing up the present? Well, we are living in a moment. Making his(HER)story now. The future is watching us. As it watched the generations before us. Waiting to pick us apart minutely piece by piece. We are under the microscope. The microscope of the generation of my daughter, who is crawling around my feet right now, and her children too. The generation that doesn’t understand yet what is happening around them, but will soon. They won’t listen to Elmo forever. So do we want the people they look up to once they stop looking up to talking puppets be just another version of a talking puppet? That presents one thing to the public, but behind the curtain can do anything they want because they are willing to be a puppet? In today’s internet culture this is increasingly harder to do. Everything everyone does is everywhere. The curtain is opening.

That point brings me back to the beginning of this three piece series. My original question – Why were the Mothers of Punk brushed aside? I finally had an answer. Because they were not controllable. They had their own ideas, there own voice, their own thing to say. They just were who they were. Think of the 90s and 00s girl groups (I say groups because none of them played anything). The Spice Girls, TLC, Destiny’s Child, The Pussycat Dolls – the female versions of their boy band counterparts. I listened to them as much as any other 90s girl. But what did they have to say? Nothing. They had nothing to say. Yes, they showed a female in a male profession. But they were not taken seriously. They were “harmless.” Dad’s took their daughters to the concerts, or let them buy the posters because the Dad’s thought they were sexy. Not because they were great female role models. They didn’t necessarily cause waves or controversy. They were marketable, they were predictable. They didn’t cause waves. A 90s girl could say, “I wanna be Posh Spice!” Her parents could laugh, “He, He, okay kitten, let’s get you a pop star costume for Halloween and singing lessons. Oh, isn’t that cute. She wants to sing.” It was accepted. Who doesn’t still sing all I really-want-is-a-zing-a-zing-ahhh?

Now, tell your Dad you want to wear spikes, torn up jeans, combat boots, and yell about the patriarchy in a ski mask like Pussy Riot… crickets. (Now that is a generalization, if you are reading this and you think, not me! Then no, not you.) They were as much sex symbols as singers. Being sexy is marketable, reliable, a desirable trait in our society (now please don’t confuse the markatable sexy with the hard faught for freedom for women to wear whatever they want – like pants – and not get burned at the stake for it – sorry Joan) – see my first piece in this series for more on this concerning Rolling Stones and the Rock N’ Roll Hall of Fame.

But recently there is a shift. A shift in the mainstream. Female artists speaking out, saying something again, and being listened to. Lady Gaga, Pink, Queen Latifah, Beyonce, Cardi B, Pussy Riot – they are using their platform on the stage to say something, using their music to change something. Do I need to agree with everything they say to appreciate that? No. It makes me look back to the women who spoke, screamed, and sang ideas into their microphones in the 70s. This new generation of female artists are using their talents as a way to reach out and spread awareness again. To speak ideas again. They are coming up against the same old industry issues, sure. But now they have a whole twitterverse behind them.

The Mothers of Punk should be proud. Their fight was not in vain. Maybe they never reached the level of success these “daughters” have. But it wasn’t in vain. They opened doors, they opened stages. They paved a path. I feel this piece may never really come to a close. But it has to end somewhere. So it will end here for now. With open ears I await the next generations of women to pick up an instrument and express themselves, express a movement, and lead us on into a time when the music industry isn’t only the industry of Drugs, Sex, and Rock n’ Roll, but of Ideas, Equality, and Innovation.

Drama on the Flowers

by Carlos de la Rosa
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Ant holds bee by leg. Gotcha! The ant is holding this flying bee by the leg. If lucky, the bee will get away. This bee has already lost part of a leg to a previous similar encounter.

The bright yellow flowers of the goldenbush (Isocoma menziesii) nod in a gentle afternoon breeze. It is late fall on Catalina Island and the splash of color catches your eye. Up close, a whole production is unfolding. Numerous bees hover over the expanse of flowers, a butterfly awkwardly scuttles off to visit the delicate flowers of the narrow-leaf milkweed (Aesclepias fascicularis), a fly struggles to extract itself from a spider’s web, and ants are swarming on the flowers and running up and down the stems of the plants. What else is going on? Several dramas unfold every day in and among the flowers of Catalina’s plants. These interactions between plants, insects, and animals illustrate a number of ecological concepts in quite dramatic and interesting ways. It’s the true theater of life, filled with danger, heroes and villains, sex and death, a struggle to survive, natural selection at work, a battle of tiny jaws and claws repeated endlessly day and night.

The first concept one can explore is that the more complex the flower, the more likely it is that it evolved specifically for a species or group of insects for pollination. And, the insects more than likely have developed characteristics that maximize the benefits from these specific plants. This joint evolution, a form of an “arms race for reproduction,” is known as co-evolution. Many plants reproduce sexually by producing male and female “gametes” in the form of pollen and eggs that when joined will form the seeds for the next generation. Sexually reproducing plants use flowers in the production and packaging of these gametes and many of these flowers use insects as the means to transport their gametes to other flowers. A pollen-laden insect is a great reproduction messenger, bringing the pollen from flower to flower ensuring that a plant will not self-pollinate, something that for some plants is not a good thing

Ladybug eating an aphid. Ladybugs are fierce predators of aphids, the yellow insects sucking sap from the stem of this plant. Both, the larva and the adult of the ladybug feed on aphids. Lunch time for ladybugs. Aphids multiply very fast and can eventually harm the plant they are feeding on. Ladybugs eat the aphids, but often not fast enough!

These plants have evolved in ways that attract and reward their insect visitors, particularly those that get involved in the transport of pollen to other flowers. The sweet and often not-so sweet collection of scents produced by flowers act as attractants to a variety of insects and birds, like hummingbirds. Some smells are quite disagreeable to us humans, like the smell of rotting meat produced by some flowers of certain succulent plants. Why would a plant smell like rotten meat? To attract flies, of course! And flies get fooled and walk around the flower looking for the piece of decomposing flesh and in the process pick up a lot of pollen that they take to the next flower. A cruel deception, you may think, but it must work for both the flower and the fly, because it keeps happening and evolving and it is fairly common in nature.

 

Bee with pollinia drinking nectar. Bees, such as honey bees and other species, visit flowers not only to drink their nectar, but also to collect pollen, which they use as food back in their nests for their growing larvae. This bee drinking nectar from a milkweed flower also has accidentally collected the flower’s pollinia, or pollen sacs, which can be seen as yellow structures attached to the bee’s legs.The bee will carry these sacks to the next flowers it visits.

Color is also an important attractant, although insects and even birds see color differently than us. Many insects, for example, can see into the infrared region of the color spectrum, something we can’t detect with our naked eyes. So a flower that to us looks uniformly yellow can appear very different to an insect, with contrasting patches, lines, “landing zones” and other features that we can only see when using ultraviolet light and a camera that can see UV. And then there is the reward: nectar. The word nectar encompasses a suite of sugars (mostly sucrose, fructose and glucose) produced by specialized glands called nectaries. Most of the nectaries are found in flowers, although they can also be found on leaves, pedicels of leaves and other locations on plants. Nectar is an important source of energy for insects such as bees, butterflies, wasps and ants, as well as birds like hummingbirds and many species of bats.

We now have the ingredients for an all-out war. With a smörgåsbord of scents and colors and the sweet loot of nectar, a broad assembly of pollinators and opportunist, predators and potential prey will gather around the colorful battlefield. Where there is nectar, there are nectar-feeders, and where these are, there is likely to be a predator around. This is the next piece in the complex web of life. Spiders, ants, praying mantises, wasps and other creatures, including lizards and frogs, hang around flowers because of the abundance of potential prey. Some, like Argentine ants, attack insects visiting the flowers either to catch and kill them or to defend other plant-associated resources, such as aphids, from which they obtain benefits (the so-called honey-dew aphids exude for the ants). And often there will be competition for the nectar, doled out in small quantities by the flowers.

And so we go back to the goldenbush flowers of the introduction. Argentine ants (Linepithema humile) have claimed the territory for themselves. They are nectar hogs, not the sharing kind of creature. Any bee that approaches a flower will get rushed and attacked as an intruder. Argentine ants are not native to Catalina Island. Originally, they come from northern Argentina, Uruguay, Paraguay, Bolivia and southern Brazil and have become invasive in the US, displacing many native ants. Our native bees are not used to the Argentine ant’s aggressive behavior. The bees land on the flowers and as they begin to sip the nectar, the ants confront them and injuries occur. I photographed several of these interactions, finding a number of bees with missing legs or segments of legs that had fallen prey to the bellicose ants. And if losing a limb or two wasn’t bad enough, their nectar-gathering time gets also severely reduced. A bee that would normally spend a 10 or 20 seconds exploring the flower head and sipping the nectar can only spend a second or two before getting mugged by the ants. This reduces not only its fitness and ability to forage efficiently, but also reduces the fitness of the goldenbush because the bees can’t get enough pollen on them to go to the next flowers.

Argentine ants attack bee. A swarm of Argentine ants on a wooly sunflower will prevent insects from landing and drinking the flower’s nectar. Some may even lose their lives to the ants. Here, a sweat bee lands on the wooly sunflower to collect nectar. The ants make their move and start swarming towards the bee. The attack is swift and efficient. The bee has precious few seconds before an ant gets a hold of it, which could lead to harm or even death.

We can only wonder what the long-term effects of these changes in the relationships between ants, bees and flowers will bring. Invasive species, a topic for a separate essay will be explored in more detail another time. Suffice to say that Catalina is a fertile ground for active evolution and natural selection, some prompted by the effects of human activities, others by the global changes we are experiencing in climate. It is an evolving story and we could use more researchers to help us understand what beneficial role we could play in this ongoing drama.

 

Milkweed bug on milkweed. A milkweed bug, bright in its warning colors that say “Don’t eat me! I taste really, really bad!” doesn’t drink the nectar of the narrow-leaved milkweed flowers but pierces the stems of the plan with its sucking mouthparts and drinks the sap, probably the main reason why it tastes so bad!

From Seed to Shining Seed

by Carlos de la Rosa
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The whole process of sexual reproduction in flowering plants is fascinating and deserving of its own article. However, I want to focus here on that part of the plant’s life cycle that develops in what we know as “seeds.” I have always been fascinated by the extraordinary variation shown in seeds, from the gigantic sea coconut or coco de mer seed (Lodoicea maldivica), an endemic palm found on the islands of Praslin and Curieuse in the Seychelles, which can weigh close to 40 lbs., to the minute and dust-like seeds of many orchids in the tropical rainforests of South America, weighing 1/35 millionth of an ounce.

Flowering plants reproduce by producing blooms that eventually turn into fruits that contain seeds. All seeds contain a tiny embryo. These baby plants are usually surrounded by nutritive tissues that help them grow once they sprout. From each seed, a small root emerges, ready to tap into the soil and begin to absorb nutrients for the growing plant. The seeds found on Catalina are beautiful, strange, diverse and wonderfully adapted to the various conditions and opportunities for plants on the Island. Some are dispersed by wind, others by water, and yet others by animals; a few are dispersed by their own devices. Some seeds are quite large, like oak acorns, and some so tiny they look like coarse sand. But all of them are part of the balance of nature on our incredible Island.

This flowering specimen of giant coreopsis (Coreopsis gigantea) shows its spring leaves and yellow daisy-like flowers. The seeds of the giant coreopsis are hardy and germinate readily.

Each plant species has its own set of adaptations for making their seeds germinate successfully. Some enter a dormant period that can last for years, waiting for the right set of conditions, like temperature, humidity or light, to tell it when to germinate. Others, like some of our fire-following plants, need a trigger, like the heat from a fire or the smoke generated with it, to start the germination process. Through experimentation, native plant experts in California discovered that the seeds of certain chaparral habitat plants like chamise (Adenostoma fasciculatum), felt-leafed ceanothus (Ceanothus arboreus) and white sage (Salvia apiana) among others can break seed dormancy and be incited to germinate upon exposure to liquid smoke. Yes, that same stuff you put on BBQ meats to make them taste as if you cooked them outdoors on a wood fire! This has been published in the scientific literature, and it is widely used in the horticultural industry and in native plant nurseries, including our own on the Island. And the reason for this phenomenon is that liquid smoke (there are several brands out there) is actually produced by distilling and liquefying smoke produced in burn chambers with selected wood chips and sawdust. Many of the chemicals that the seeds encounter in the wild after a fire are concentrated and present in this food additive. This fire in a bottle was a significant breakthrough for horticulturists and ecologists focused on native plant restoration of degraded habitats.

A toyon (Heteromeles arbutifolia) in flower is an amazing sight, with its bright red fruits visible from a huge distance. Toyon seeds are encased in capsules, packed in fours or fives inside the fruits. Each capsule has usually two small brown seeds.

Native plant seeds on the Island range in size from large, like oak acorns, wild cucumber, and Catalina cherry, to tiny, like those of the bush mallow, shooting stars, silver lotus, and the minute ocean spray. Some of our seeds are also uniquely shaped, like the long and hairy Catalina Island mahogany, with its curly fox tails that help it be dispersed by the wind, and the odd-looking and sticky seeds of the beautiful Crossosoma. Looking at the native seeds under magnification tells stories of dispersal, hardiness, adaptations to survive cold and fire, drought, and floods. The seeds carry the essence of the next generation, and their survival is the most important thing for the plant.

As varied as they are in shape and size, they are also diverse in other characteristics, such as viability. A seed is not viable forever under natural conditions. It will come to a point where if it doesn’t germinate, the germ or embryo it contains will die. For some species, like the oaks, this can happen very quickly. Acorns are usually viable only for a few months. If they don’t germinate right away, they will dry, rot, or most likely get eaten by the plentiful wildlife that depends on acorns for its sustenance. This is one of the reasons oaks produce such a tremendous number of seeds. Odds are that some of them will make it to germination and survive the seedling and small plant years. But there are other species, like the fire-followers or fire-adapted ones mentioned above, that will enter a period of dormancy and wait for the conditions to become ideal. For the fire species, this can be years. And then, there are other species that under the right conditions (low humidity, cold temperatures and lack of predators or diseases) can live for decades and even centuries. Seeds from the narrow-leafed campion, Syllene stenophylla, a species of flowering plant found in Siberia, were recovered from frozen rodent burrows and carbon-dated to 30,000 years of age. Scientists were able to germinate these seeds and grow full plants from them! There are several species of this genus in southern California. Same stories have been reported using seeds from archaeological excavations dating back to two thousand years. These conditions of low humidity and temperature can be replicated and provide an environment for the storage of many seeds from our native plants. The Ackerman Native Plant Nursery in Middle Ranch does just this, and it has millions of seeds stored in a walk-in refrigerator, cataloged and tested regularly, ready to be put to use in the Conservancy’s restoration projects.

The Catalina Island mahogany (Cerocarpus traskiae) is an endemic species of special importance to the Island. These spiky structures are the seed “tails” starting to grow. The seeds of the Catalina Island mahogany have a unique structure that looks like a little hairy tail and it helps the seed to disperse.

Seeds and the fruit capsules that contain them use a variety of strategies to move around. Some plants have fruits that literally explode when ripe, sending the seeds flying through the air some distance away. Others are transported by water, using floods and streams as means for dispersal or have extensions and adaptations to be dispersed by the wind.

Some fruit capsules have hooks or barbs that get attached to passing animals (or unwary hikers) and get transported long distances by these means. Many fruits are edible and attractive to wildlife and are swallowed whole by birds and mammals. These seeds have to have tough coatings to survive the trip through the acidic guts of animals and come out the other end viable. In fact, some seeds actually need to go through an animal’s gut to germinate. One good thing is that these seeds, scarified by the acids from the digestive tract of its transporter, get deposited in a convenient “pool of nutrients” (yes, I mean poop) once they leave the gut of the disperser. In fact, every species on the island has its own unique form of dispersal, germination, and characteristics, making the study and exploration of seeds an intellectually rewarding endeavor.

The flowers of several species of Eriogonum (like our St. Catherine’s lace) change colors when maturing, from white or light pink to russet. The seeds of Eriogunum are very small and pointed.

Women of HERstory: Punk Part II

by Constance Rux
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When last we spoke, I was researching how many women had been inducted into the Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame and had made the cover of Rolling Stone magazine. I wasn’t finding much information about what contributions women had to music, specifically the 1970’s Mothers of Punk, and why these all female bands were seemingly swept aside.

Lost in a HERstory Detour

So I switched gears. I decided to look at the herstory of females in music. So I went farther back. Way, way back. To 810 AD. To the first historical memory of a female composer. According to the Oxford musical history site, a woman named Kassia composed the Byzantine chant in Constantinople sometime between 829 and 867 while an Abbess. Then came a string of Abbesses, and Countesses who were followed by Opera Singers. I found through this research that it wasn’t until 1754 that a woman (Duchess Maria Antonia of Bavaria, a German Princess) both wrote and starred in her own Opera. So that is a thing you know now. Admittedly this was too far back. Interesting as it was that it took around 944 years or so for a woman to both write, and perform her piece publicly (at least according to the Oxford timeline) it was not helping me with my current quest. I decided to stay in my lane.

Brief PUNKstory

In the 1970s there was an outbreak of punk music. Like most of the punk scene in the early years, the girls had little to no musical experience, but they were young had a lot to say. Punk was more about expression than quality. More about not really knowing or caring that music was supposed to have rules, which meant it was easier to break the rules. It was easier to make something new when your main message was out with the old, and you didn’t know much about the old anyway. It wasn’t anti- as much as it was pro- unifying the people who felt left out of the mainstream. 70s Punk was a tight knit group, a family. Like every family, whether you know them or not, there’s always a few who resemble a Father, and a Mother, and a weird political Uncle (looking at you Anti-Flag). So let me introduce you to a few of the mothers of this family.

The Slits – The UK Mothers of Punk

Founding members Ari Upp (or Up), Palmolive, Katie Korus, and Suzy Gutsy decided in 1976 that punk wasn’t just for the boys, and by 1977 they were opening for The Clash. In 1979 they released their first album, “Cut.” It made the UK top 30. For the first UK all female punk band, that was huge. If you have never heard, “I heard it through the Grapevine” in all of its English 1979 Punk glory, then you are missing one of its most original takes of all time. The Slits became a rotating door for young female musicians. The girls would come and go depending on where they were in life at the time.

And, occasionally, they added in male musicians to mix up the cast. However from age 14, Ari was always the fearless vocalist and leader until they officially disbanded in 1981. She led various other groups as her music morphed into a new age reggae-punk, and performed live until her death in 2010 from breast cancer. She refused treatments when she was diagnosed and opted instead to let the disease take its course. It may seem strange that her music took a reggae turn. But remember: punks were a minority. Or, really, a group of minorities. The rasta movement hit the UK first because of the influx of Jamaican and other pan-Caribbean migrants. Punk and reggae went hand in hand in their infancy as minority groups that accepted and respected each other. Ari married the two. Ari’s mother Nora fully supported her in her art. (Nora’s second husband was the lead singer of the Sex Pistols.)

Palmolive was dating John Graham Mellor AKA Joe Strummer – who, as a side note, my son is named after – and performing with Sid Vicious in his pre Sex Pistols Era years with the band Flowers of Romance when she met Ari in 1976. (Amazing how mentioning the male musicians Ari and Palmolive are connected to seems to give them more credibility. Maybe I should turn it around – say Joe Strummer dated the drummer for The Slits before becoming famous, and the lead singer for the Sex Pistols got to have Ari as a step daughter?) Palmolive eventually married and raised children. They now live in the US and continue to perform and write music together, You may not recognize it now, though, as she has become a devout Christian. Her music is now used to send a very different message, but she still continues to influence those around her through her art.

Why did they break up? It was dangerous. The Slits were a minority (women, very young women) in a grown man’s industry. They cited violence, struggling to be taken seriously, their portrayal in the media, and lack of growth for reasons for the split. They hit a wall… or a ceiling. Also the label of “feminist” by the media drove them crazy. Feminist is a label, and labels come with rules and expectations. Rules and expectations mean being held up to a standard by others that they didn’t hold themselves too. The older the got, the more they realized they were tired of fighting against the priorarchy, stereotypes, and industry. They were grown, and wanted to focus on building families and building a life. Not fighting for it.

The Runaways – The US Mothers of Punk

You can still find one all female 70s punk band in the karaoke books at your local dive – the Runaways. (I know because I checked at El Galleon, I may or may not have regalled the bar with Cherry Bomb once or twice…) The original band Joan Jett, Jackie Foxx, Cherie Currie, Sandy West and Lita Ford were a force to be reckoned with. Like The Slits, they were all in their early teens, and all relatively new to music. Their breakthrough style opened the doors for the all-female bands that followed in the 80s and 90s. Although at the time in the US they were not widely accepted as more than “punkettes” (tip: do not EVER use this term. It is equivalent to calling a female CEO “honey”) in Japan they were a #1 hit on the music charts with the single, “Cherry Bomb” outdoing even “Hotel California,” which was released the same year! They released five albums and toured the world during their short time together. Joan Jett is more known for her breakaway band, “Joan Jett and the Blackhearts” which made it into the Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame in 2015. Interestingly enough the Blackhearts is not an all female group, and made the hall of fame, whereas The Runaways have not yet “earned” a spot. Although during the Blackhearts 2015 induction, songs by The Runaways were performed.

Although Joan’s legacy may scream at us the loudest from the radio, there are other notable names to mention here. Jackie Foxx, for instance, was a teenage prodigy. She was accepted to early admission at UofC before she was 16 and a member of the band. After her short music career she went on to graduate summa cum laude, and had many behind the scenes jobs as an agent, promoter, and entertainment attorney. She didn’t stay with the group long. She has released several statements about abuse at the hands of male roadies, and is now a vocal advocate for female performers.

Cherie Currie was controversial because she performed mostly in her underwear. Although modern day female performers can wear (or not wear) almost anything, in the 70s this was very taboo. Many think it took away from her actual talent, and launched her into the anti-feminist, sex symbol of the band. Hurting the girls’ cause rather than helping it. Others thought she was just doing it for the shock factor: reminding the audience they were watching girls on stage performing, and put their femininity at the forefront of the performance. We are girls first, musicians second (much like The Slits, though, The Runaways did not appreciate the media’s feminist label). Whatever the reason, she earned herself a solo career after leaving The Runaways. Her and her twin sister Marie toured the world together in the early 80s. She went on to have an acting career as well. Cherie struggled with addiction through most of her early life. She stepped away from being a full-time performer (although hasn’t completely stepped away) to keep herself clean, and is now a chainsaw wood carving artist in NoCal. You can find her work here, http://www.chainsawchick.com.

Sandy West started playing drums at the age of 9, was playing drums for two different bands by 13, and joined The Runaways at 15. Joan and Sandy were the first two members of the group. Sandy was special because she was on the short list of women who played the drums. She is still hailed today as one of the best drummers in rock n’ roll. Unfortunately Sandy’s story is a common one in the music industry – their producer screwed them over. After the band broke up, Sandy was broke. She was never able to reach the level of fame she had in the Runaways again. She held different odd jobs to make ends meet and passed away of lung cancer in 2005 at age 48. The mainstream media never picked up on the idea of a female drummer. It wasn’t seen as traditionally sexy, it wasn’t easily marketable to a mass audience, and so she was pushed into obscurity. If you have never heard one of her drum solos, I highly recommend taking a minute to listen to the Runaways “Live in Japan” album and pay your respects to one of the most talented women to hold the sticks.

Well, my coffee is cold, and I need to find that Elmo song (What is the name of that song?) for my baby before she riots and crawls off to start her own baby band. Stay tuned for the third and final part of HERstory the Mothers of Punk in next month’s issue.