Tyranny of the Downbeat

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"Tyranny of the Downbeat" is a story about "the politics of water" in California. It investigates the contamination of our precious groundwater, the misuse and abuse of pesticides, the arrogance of the agribusiness conspiracy, and the ideology and empowerment of concerned citizens. It chronicles one man's attempt to expose the waste and contamination of our groundwater by corporate farms in the Central Valley, as well as the agrichemical companies who supply them and the lawyers, politicians, and lobbyists who protect them. Elliot Lincoln is a well-known filmmaker who, with the support of a number of concerned citizens, environmental activists, media professionals, and celebrities, decides to make a "serious" film about the conspiracy and cover up. Under the guise of educating the public and motivating them to take action, he exacts his own personal revenge. Unfortunately, things are not what they seem. There is a joker in the deck and our protagonist becomes what he beheld.

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TYRANNY OF THE DOWNBEAT
by
Kenneth White

"Crucified Landscape" – Roman Loranc, Two-Hearted Oak ©2003

Kenneth White
1108 Wellesley Avenue
Modesto, CA 95350-5044
(209) 567-0600
[email protected]

Tyranny of the Downbeat

1

THE FIRST PAGE:
For without belittling the courage with which men have died, we
should not forget those acts of courage with which men ... have
lived. The courage of life is often a less dramatic spectacle than
the courage of a final moment; but it is no less a magnificent
mixture of triumph and tragedy.
A man does what he must--in spite of personal consequences, in spite
of obstacles and dangers and pressures--and that is the
basis of all human morality.
-- John F. Kennedy, "Profiles in Courage"
There are few things wholly evil or wholly good. Almost
everything, ... is an inseparable compound of the two.
-- Abraham Lincoln

Tyranny of the Downbeat

2

CHAPTER 1
Salus populi suprema lex.
The people's safety is the highest law.
-- Ancient Roman Legal Maxim
The Great Unwashed Valley.

This is where it ends.

Rising up over the Sierra foothills, a helicopter shot,
reveals the open blade of the San Joaquin Valley.
down a heat-rippled, two-lane blacktop.

A jeep runs

Inside, the driver dials

through the radio, searching for a song to match his mood.
stops.

He

It's a Greek Chorus telling him what he's there for, what he

already knows.
It's nature's way,
It's nature's way.
Of telling you,
Something's wrong.
-- Spirit, "Nature's Way"
My name is Western.
raised here.

I'm a flatlander.

Probably die here.

I was born here,

I took it for granted.

Now I'm

trying to save it.
I'm a television reporter.

In the myth-making jargon of

today's American pop-culture, a "telejournalist."
gunslinger.

A free-lance hired gun.

well-known filmmaker.

A video

I've been taken on by a

He's responsible for some of the biggest

money-makers of all time.

Movies filled with pure entertainment.

Plenty of thrills and fantasy, but little substance.
critics say and he disputes.
this job.

Or so his

We've got something more in common than

He also grew up here in the Valley.

In the same small

Tyranny of the Downbeat

town.

3

A town called Ralston.

Once, we both called it home.

Now

it's a destination.
Ralston is small town.

The local Chamber of Commerce is

proud of the signs proclaiming it an "All-American City."
many got out alive.
clearly.

Not

I had to leave to grow up, to see it

Many of my friends didn't.

They're still seventeen and

counting.
Another Valley refugee once wrote that a place belongs
forever to whoever claims it hardest, remembers it most
obsessively, shapes it, loves it so blindly that they remake it
in their own image.

I believe that.

the Valley is mine.

I take the good with the bad.

flatness, unending.

I like the people, uncomplicated.

the weather, unbearable.

Ralston belongs to me and
I like the
I like

I suppose it's what you get used to.

certain idea of what the world should look like.

I'd just rather see

the sun and where I'm going.
This valley after the storms can be beautiful beyond the
telling,
Though our cityfolk scorn it, cursing heat in the summer and
drabness in winter,
And flee it: Yosemite and the sea.
They seek splendor; who would teach them must stun them;
The nerve that is dying needs thunder to rouse it.
I in the vineyard, in green-time and dead-time, come to it
dearly,
And take nature neither freaked nor amazing,
But the secret shining, the soft indeterminate wonder.
I watch it morning and noon, the unutterable sundowns,
And love as the leaf does the bough.
-- "San Joaquin"
The Central Valley Heartland.
earth like it.

A

There is no other place on

The lush garden first seen by mountain men like

Tyranny of the Downbeat

4

Jedediah Smith, explorers like John Fremont, and naturalists like
John Muir.
It's flat.

It's dry.

It's desolate.

Once, though, it was

a sea, filled by rivers of the Sierra Nevada.

Now it's the

world's most fertile, most productive farmland.
grown here around the clock, around the year.
for farming.

Crops can be
It was put here

Some have even suggested that it be used

exclusively for cultivation.

That all residents be uprooted and

moved to the foothills that rim the valley.
What was once a sea of water is now a sea of grass.
below the soil is the bottom of this ancient sea.
of clay, impermeable.

Nothing gets through.

Lying

It's a layer

In some places it's far

below the surface, in others very close to the top.
Skimming the valley, as a marsh hawk would, hunting, it's
dead level.

There's not much that's tall enough to break the

dusty monotony.

Except the Masterson Wildlife Refuge, lying

south and west of the Sierra foothills.
the wetlands.

It's one of the last of

Once there were thousands.

for migrating birds.

Stopping-off places

They're not stopping anymore.

there are flashing lights and explosions.
and men firing shotguns.

Because

There are scarecrows

Not as hunters, but protectors.

don't want the birds to land.

If they do, they'll die.

They
They'll

sink to the bottom of a poisoned pond.
That's where I come in.
dying.

And why no one's talking about it.

beginning of the story.
there.

I want to know why the birds are
But that's only the

Only part of the reason I'm headed

I'm heading home, back to familiar territory, because

Tyranny of the Downbeat

someone is dead.
farmworker.
Chicano.

5

Not too unusual, you think.

Maybe still not worth the drive.

Now you're listening.

Poisoned.

Perhaps.

A

Vietnamese, not

By a pesticide.

You're awfully quiet.
I think it's all connected.
another unsuspecting victim.

So does the filmmaker.

Just

And he's tired of it.

"Kathy, I'm lost," I said,
Though I knew she was sleeping.
"I'm empty and aching and
I don't know why."
Counting the cars
On the New Jersey Turnpike.
They've all come
To look for America,
All come to look for America,
All come to look for America.
-- Paul Simon, "America"
Jimmie Quon was born to the highland tribes known as Hmong
in his native Vietnam.

He had lived in tunnels and holes.

First from the Marines, then his own country's army.
family on the run.

Refugees in their own land.

Hiding.

He had fed his

Until he boarded the

ship that took him, his brother, their families, and too many others
for the small boat, away.
pirates.

Along the way, they had been boarded by

Robbed, beaten, and raped.

They finally reached camps that

were as tightly packed as the boats were.

After months or years of

waiting, they got processed and left for America.

Only to find

themselves in a HUD housing project on the east side of some city
like San Jose.

Strangers in a state of shock in a strange land.

Jimmie's odyssey was no different.

His began in Galveston,

continued in East Los Angeles, then East San Jose, and finally
ended near Mendota.

For a short time, he lived in a housing

Tyranny of the Downbeat

6

development at the edge of town.

Jimmie worked in the fields;

this generation's version of the "wetback".
domestic.

His wife became a

Their two children went to school and took the first

steps toward becoming Americanized.

They did well in school.

As did

so many others who, given the opportunity, greedily grasped it.

They

wanted to learn, which was more than their native-born classmates
could say.
Within a year, they'd saved enough to move into a small
apartment closer to town.
fields.

Jimmie still worked days in the

He also worked nights as a mechanic in the Texaco

station.

He knew engines.

of his former homeland.
Helicopters.
destroyed.

Jeeps.

He'd dismantled a few in the fields

Tanks.

Personnel carriers.

War materiel left behind, partially

Not worth salvaging by the retreating American army.

Jimmie worked hard and kept to himself, kept quiet.
didn't want to make any trouble.

He

He was successful at both.

So he couldn't understand why this man was treating him
this way.

He had done nothing.

his own home.

Again.

He was their prisoner.

The man had broken in around midnight.

gun kept him from resisting.

the man hit him with it.

was dragged away.

The

Funny, until

Until everything went black when he tried

His wife and children huddled on the floor as he
Again.

Now he was awake.
to a truck shed.

In

Jimmy thought it was some kind of joke.

Especially since the man was carrying a baseball bat.

to stop the man.

Again.

A little slow, but aware.

He had been moved

In a room to the side where oil, grease, and

pesticides were kept.

All the petrochemical products that kept the

Tyranny of the Downbeat

7

chemically-dependent farm factory running smoothly.

Why he was

there, and why the man was filling the spray rig with a pesticide
confused him.

Until he doused his shirt with it.

neck and back were soaked with it.

Until his entire

Until he was left swimming in it.

As the hours passed, Jimmie became feverish.

Delirious.

He

began shouting against the bandana in his mouth, the ropes around his
arms.

But nothing gave.

The sweat glistened around his eyes and on

his forehead, and plopped to the concrete floor.
returned.

He took out the bandana and stuffed a handful of aspirin

down his throat.

The man held his nose and mouth shut so he couldn't

breath and had to swallow.
Aspirin?

Then the slugger

He put the bandana back in and left.

It tasted dry and bitter on the back of his tongue.

A few hours later, the hitter returned to check Jimmie's pulse.
Barely there.

He untied him and dumped him in the back of a company

truck.

He drove through the night, through the cotton, through the

grapes.

To the edge of the wildlife refuge, where he rolled Jimmie

out of the truck and onto the ground, quickly strapped the spray rig
to his back, and left.
day.

Dressed for work.

That's how the foreman found him the next
Comatosed on the American dream.

I drive up the long road to his house.
picnic table sits a couple of glasses.
melted from yesterday's ice cubes.

On the redwood

There's water in them,

Somehow this tells me a lot

about the man who lives here.
Then I talk to him and it's very clear.
His nickname says much about who he thinks he is.
Jon."

The Duke.

"Big

I hate myself for making snap judgments, but

Tyranny of the Downbeat

I do.

8

Make snap judgments, not hate myself.

red-necked asshole you ever met.

This guy's every

A real hippie's nightmare.

Confederate flag on the front license plate, gun rack in the
back.

I can tell he doesn't much like me at first either.

might be the beard?

Think it

I thought this "Okie-from-Muskogee" crap had

gone the way of Spiro Agnew.
Jonathan Henry Miller is just over six feet, wide and mean.
He's built like the kind of guy you were always afraid was going
to crush you each time he hugged you.
remember from elementary school.

He was like the bully you

Too big and clumsy, and maybe a

little too dumb, to be accepted, so he turned mean.
against the school walls.

Put kittens in burlap sacks and dumped

them into the canal, laughing.
meaner he became.

Threw frogs

The older he got, the bigger and

And he wasn't just big, he was also fat.

barrel-chest had dropped down to his beer-belly.

His

His shirts were

always too small, exposing pieces of his long johns through the gaps
between the buttons.

His pants were too short, exposing trunk legs,

and his belly bubbled over the thin leather belt he wore and
regularly used on his kids and sometimes his wife.
little too small for his body.

His head seemed a

His close-cropped blonde hair curled

tightly above a narrow forehead over dead-blue watery eyes.

He had a

large mouth, hiding broken, crooked, tobacco-stained teeth.

His

breath always smelled of bourbon, mixed with an odor that smelled
like something had died in the back of his throat.
He makes me think of the original definition of the word
"yahoo".

In Swift's "Gulliver's Travels," a "yahoo" was one of a

filthy race of brutes having the form and all the vices of man.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

9

"Yahoo" came to mean any degraded or vicious man.

The shoe seemed to

fit.
I notice Big Jon wears Levi's blue jeans and Tony Lama
cowboy boots, with silver tips.
says.

"Better for stickin' toads," he

My guess is he's used them a few times to puncture groins.

smokes Camels.
Jim Beam.

A lot of them when he gets nervous.

A lot of that too when he's on the spot.

but hides it well.

He

And he drinks
He's educated,

He went to Ralston Junior College,

then the University of California at Davis.
Miller's as big and looks as jolly as a greeting card Santa.
But you don't really want to sit on his lap.
known, doesn't like kids.

"Big Jon," as he's also

And he doesn't like spics, although he's

got a platoon-full working for him.

And he really hates gooks,

thanks to a long, mind-bending tour in 'Nam.

Jimmie Quon worked in a

vineyard Miller managed for the DiGiulio Winery.
Miller's a rancher on the west side.
club near Masterson.

And he owns a duck

He says he's a pleasure hunter.

usually means he only shoots what he can eat.

That

In Miller's case,

it means he gets a thrill in his nuts each time he kills one.
His ranch sits right along the San Joaquin River.
the house faces the river.

The front of

The deck faces the fields.

We talk about the river.

And we talk about cycles.

they're profitable, we'll use 'em.

If not, we'll improve 'em.

When they start destroying what is mine, I eliminate 'em."
philosophy the Army Corps of Engineers would be proud of.
Big Jon has a philosophy.

"If

And it is the problem.

"If you see something you want, you go get it."

A

Tyranny of the Downbeat

10

"What if you run out?"
"There'll always be more somewhere else."
Welcome back to the disposable society.
Big Jon was named after his great-grandfather, Henry
Miller, the man who brought water to the valley.

Miller's father

started farming around Bakersfield in the 1930s.

"Water was cheap

back then.

You could irrigate an acre for a few dollars.

Then the Depression hit.
lost it.

You couldn't pay for your water, so you

No water, no farm.

It was simple and quick."

"So why do you keep lobbying for water?
like Southeast Asia around here.

I mean this looks

There's plenty of water."

He rubs his large, sun-burned forearms and reaches to pick
up a handful of dust.

"Because we gotta rely on groundwater.

And right now, we're pumpin' it out faster'n it can recharge.
And we have to go deeper to get it.
down.

Now it's 150.

I started pumpin' at 25 feet

That takes energy.

And that means money."

"So that's why you're lobbying for more dams?

And why the

environmentalists are hassling you in the local papers?"
He has fought to get water from the Jamestown Dam and
lobbied for more subsidies.

"You know, 30 years from now, when

you can't get a clean drink of water and can't even flush the
shitter, you remember these people.
I watch him as he thinks.

They caused it."

Absently, but determinedly, he

twirls the ice in his glass with his fingers.

Then he fishes

them out and throws them on the ground, in the dust.

A soft thud.

They immediately begin to melt.
That's it, I think.

Such casual disregard.

"What about

Tyranny of the Downbeat

conserving the water?

11

Recycling it?"

"Because it costs me money I ain't got.

Besides, think

about all that water washing down from the hills into the Delta
and out to sea.

The state could sell that water.

it's doin' nobody no good.

But instead,

They're just wastin' it."

This attitude about "waste" is not unique.

It reminded me

of something I'd read during the early part of my research.

It

was an editorial in a county newspaper dated November 3, 1871.
It was part of a series written to promote the establishment of
water districts in the Central Valley.

The closing paragraph

summed it up.
"We have the climate; we have the soil of a first class
country; but, for the want of that water which runs to waste at
our very doors, and which a little sagacity and industry would
make pour itself over our rich earth, we are living in a
comparative desert, and are becoming notorious for our poverty."
The "waste" the writer spoke of referred to fresh rivers and
streams running unstopped from the mountains to the delta and then to
the ocean.

"Sagacity and industry" really meant building dams,

dikes, levees, and concrete canals to control the water.

So the

editor, speaking for most of the valley's vested
interests, was really saying that to make the desert fertile, it
was time to stop "wasting" the water that was being allowed to
run free.

It was time to corral it behind dams so it could be

diverted to a more productive use--the growing of crops.

The

editorial was a herald of the way things would soon become in the
valley.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

12

Miller doesn't want to talk about the incident.
what he knows, which isn't much.

He tells me

The way he figures it, it was

Quon's own fault.
"Damned gook.
fuck.

Besides.

Shoulda watched what he was doin'.

Dumb

There's plenty more where he come from.

They

cross the borders and oceans every day."
It was obvious he felt the same about migrants as he did about
water.

Waste it 'til it's gone, then find some more somewhere.

Later that day, the county coroner gave me the cold,
scientific specifics of why Jimmie Quon was lying near death in a
hospital.
"His nervous system just shut down.

When Dinoseb--that's

the pesticide he was exposed to--is absorbed through the skin, it
will cause a fever.

A very high fever.

aspirin to get rid of the fever.

Most people would take

Except, in this case, that's the

wrong thing to do."
"Why?"
"Because aspirin makes the chemical more potent."
"And more deadly?"
"You can certainly die from it.
toxicologists are just now realizing.
potentiation, or synergism.

It's a phenomena
The medical term is drug

One drug augments the effects of

another through biochemical or physiological processes."
I was getting lost in the babble.

"But, it could have been

avoided?"
"Sure.

If he hadn't taken the aspirin."

Tyranny of the Downbeat

13

"How could he have known?"
"If the manufacturer had stated clearly on the label that
Dinoseb poisonings should not be treated with aspirin."
"Probably wouldn't have made any difference."
"Why's that?"
"Because the label's printed in English."
An uncomprehending stare.
"Jimmie Quon was Vietnamese.
He looks away for a moment.
case.

I doubt he knew how to read."
"This reminds me of another

Took place in Davis, a town near Sacramento, several

months ago.
sacks.

This Hispanic farmworker was burning some paper

He told the foreman he wasn't feeling very well.

dizzy and sick to his stomach.

That he was

The foreman sent him home.

A few

hours later he went into convulsions."
"He died?"
Nods.

"The bags were filled with residue from a product

called Temik.

Generic name is Aldicarb.

systemic insecticide, and nematocide.

It's a pesticide,

It's manufactured in

granule form to decrease the handling hazards."
"Is it toxic?"
"Very.
stimulator.

Since atrophine is the antidote, it's a CNS
It overstimulates the body and you die in

convulsions."
"So, he died from inhaling the smoke?"
"Pretty much."
"How come he didn't know that?"
"Like you said.

He probably couldn't read the label."

Tyranny of the Downbeat

14

"And the foreman didn't either."
Shakes his head.

"You know, this isn't the first time these

people have been around this block."
"Who's 'these people'?"
He pulls out a recent newspaper article and passes it over to
me.
PESTICIDE SCARE HALTS HARVEST AT 2 WEST SIDE VINEYARDS
MENDOTA--The wine grape harvest at two west side vineyards
has been halted temporarily by the state because of the apparent
pesticide poisoning of dozens of field workers.
The chief of pesticide enforcement for the state Department
of Food and Agriculture, said at least fourteen workers have been
admitted to hospitals over the past ten days for treatment of
dizziness, nausea and a drop in their blood enzyme levels.
The symptoms are similar to poisoning caused by a group of
insecticides known as organophosphates, which can drop levels of
blood enzymes.
"We haven't found anything in those fields that is capable
of causing these illnesses," a state official said Friday.
The most recent incident occurred Thursday in a vineyard
owned by the DiGiulio Winery of Ralston. Twenty-seven workers at the
vineyard fell ill and four were hospitalized overnight with dizziness
and nausea.
Workers at another DiGiulio vineyard, located about a mile
away, fell sick earlier in the month. Ten of those workers were
hospitalized and three still remain in the hospital.
The county agricultural commissioner said tests of the
vineyard showed higher than expected levels of phosaline, an
insecticide sold under the brand name Zolone.
Once tests showed pesticide residues had dropped to a safe
level, officials ruled that grape picking could resume.
I had to shake my head.

"They're putting a price on these

people's heads."
The coroner didn't say anything.
away.

He just put the article

Tyranny of the Downbeat

15
CHAPTER 2

We begin life with the world presenting itself to us as it is.
Someone--our parents, teachers, analysts--hypnotizes us to "see"
the world and construe it in the "right" way. These others label
the world, attach names and give voices to the beings and events
in it, so that thereafter, we cannot read the world in any other
language or hear it saying other things to us. The task is to
break the hypnotic spell, so that we become undeaf, unblind and
multilingual, thereby letting the world speak to us in new voices
and write all its possible meanings in the new book of our
existence. Be careful in your choice of hypnotists.
-- Sidney Jourard
For me the only realist is the visionary because he bears
witness to his own reality.
-- Federico Fellini
Returning, exiting off the freeway and onto state highway
132, then right and left onto Ralston Avenue, I drive under an
archway above what used to be the main entrance into town.
metal.

An "iron rainbow."

It reads:

At night it's lit with white lights.

"Where the Land Owns the Water."

All the times I've

driven beneath it, I never thought much about it.
everything about survival in the Valley.
understanding California.

It's

But it says

It's the key to

The desert that fooled everyone.

Tonight, I'm thinking back on how this long, strange trip began.
It's the beginning of summer in the valley.

A time of

graduations, Father's Days, and class reunions.

It's hot.

can see the heatwaves simmering on the roadway.

You can see the

mirage, the water just down the road.

It's an illusion.

You

Funny

the journey should begin this way, at a high school class
reunion.

A reluctant reliving of the first rites of passage.

It's a Saturday night in June.
cool off.

The day is just beginning to

But the main drag is just heating up.

The cruisers

Tyranny of the Downbeat

are out.

16

Street machines and their drivers begin the weekend

mating ritual.
The man who immortalized this scene on celluloid so many
years ago can't even get through the crowd to his own class
reunion.

He's late.

Elliot Lincoln is in Ralston for the twenty-fifth reunion of
the Thomas Dewey High School Commodores.

Cruising the main drag

he immortalized in his first successful movie, Elliot's mind
isn't on gym classes or sock hops.

How everyone will look, or

how far--or fat--they've gotten in life.

Sitting behind the

wheel of his Mercedes, he isn't thinking about dragging the
strip, the way he used to in another lifetime, or the prom queens
and "BMOCs" he's about to encounter for the first time since he
last saw them in 1962, just before he wrapped his car around a
walnut tree.
either.

He's not thinking about that brush with death,

It's with death of another kind that he's preoccupied.

He's thinking about what he and his father had just talked about.
They were sitting on the back deck, drinking iced teas, when
he waded in.

Never one to hedge, he went right to the point.

"Dad, I'm sterile.

I can't have any children."

His father, about to take another sip, put his glass down.
His only chance to have a grandchild had just been yanked away.
"You're sure?

You've checked with the doctors, with all the

specialists?"
"Everyone.

Everything.

Too many waiting rooms and not

enough right answers."
Resigned, like his son, "You've given up."

Tyranny of the Downbeat

"On having our own?

17

Yes.

We've decided to adopt."

"It won't be the same."
Suddenly a little angry, perhaps disappointed because his
father is.

"How do you know?

Look, I really want a family.

I'm

desperate to have a family."
"There's no other way?"
"No.
do.

There's nothing else we can do.

It's adopt or have no family at all.

you ask me.

Nothing else they can
Pretty cruel twist, if

It takes me this long to finally decide to bring a

child into this screwed up world and, suddenly, I don't have a
choice in the matter."
His father is desperate for answers.

"So why didn't anyone

else in the family get sick?"
"Guess I've always been the lucky one."
"Stop joking around."
"I asked the doctors.
different ways.

They say it manifests itself in

Some people's systems just seem to resist it

better than others.

And it doesn't always appear right away."

"Have you told your Mother?"
"Not yet.

I will after supper."

They both look off in different directions, suddenly
uncomfortable with each other, searching for something neutral to
rest their eyes on.
admit.

It was hard to accept.

Now it was done.

Even harder to

But it wasn't even close to being over.

There was something gnawing at him.

Something he'd been

wondering about.
One weekend, while he was home visiting, he was leafing

Tyranny of the Downbeat

18

through the "Ralston Record."

He started reading about an

agrichemical company in the next town.
Waterston is a small farming town east of Ralston.

The

train passes through, there's a General Mills plant, and several
industrial processing plants.

Not much else.

Except the smell.

Traveling down the highway, you know you're close because the
stink precedes it.

A combination of smells from the sugar plant

and the fertilizer plant.

A sign on the outside of town reads,

"Waterston--It's the Water."

Just like the old Oly beer ads.

And it certainly was.
In 1943, Standard Oil of California built a fertilizer plant
in Waterston.

The plant made thousands of tons of fertilizer and

its constituents.

Ammonium sulfate, sulfuric acid, ammonia, and

phosphoric acid.
In 1948, it was purchased by OxyGene, a multinational
holding company.

Plant operations were expanded to include the

manufacture of pesticides.
For years, the plant wasn't too careful, or concerned, about
how it got rid of its wastes.

They just dumped the stuff on the

plant grounds or in settling ponds.

Ponds that were unlined.

Even back then, it was a clear violation of state law.
people in charge knew it.

And so did the people at corporate.

But it cost money to do it right.
kept on dumping.

The

So they didn't.

They just

And they kept on looking the other way.

And,

as the saying goes, what the locals and the state didn't know,
Until one summer afternoon.

A farmer was irrigating his

land; land sitting right next to the plant.

Some water began

Tyranny of the Downbeat

19

percolating into his field.
the water.

His dog chased a jack rabbit through

After the jack lost him at the fence, the dog trotted

back over to his owner.

He sat down and began licking himself.

Suddenly, he started coughing and wheezing and convulsing.

Then

he died.
The water had come from the plant's waste water pond.
Turns out the plant was built right on top of a major
aquifer.

The Waterston aquifer supplied the town and surrounding

area with its only source of water.

For manufacturing,

irrigation, and drinking.
The soil around the plant was very permeable.
dumped on the ground found its way into the soil.

Anything
And,

eventually, into the aquifer.
The state decided it had better test the water pumped from
wells around the plant.

They found that the only water source

for the entire town was contaminated with DBCP, a chemical known
to cause cancer and sterility.

They ordered the plant to shut

its doors until further notice.
Then they started testing the employees.
Not once during the more than twenty years the plant
manufactured DBCP, did management ever warn its workers about the
severe reproductive dangers posed by DBCP.

Not once did the

workers know that exposure would make them sterile.
The article continued with an interview with the plant
safety manager.

The former plant safety manager.

"We suspected for more than four years that the pesticides
were probably poisoning the local wells.

I knew it was illegal.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

20

And I kept covering it up.
those years was a lie.

Every report to the state during

We were killing our workers and the local

people and we didn't do a thing about it.
cut into the bottom line.

Because it would've

If the state hadn't started testing,

the people around here would never have known.

Still wouldn't.

The authorities at the state and federal level aren't even
watching out for us.

And when they find something, it takes

forever for them to do anything about it."
For Elliot, the real bottom line had become abundantly
clear.

The plant dumped its waste on the ground.

the water.

The water was contaminated.

sterility.

He was sterile.

miles from the plant.

It got into

The contaminant caused

His family's ranch was just a few

And the tainted water was the same water

he had been drinking since 1948, the year they moved there.
year he celebrated his sixth birthday.

The

The same year the plant

started making pesticides.
The following Monday, he went to his doctor, showed him the
article, and asked if there was a possible connection.
"It's possible, yes."
"That's all you've got to say?

So why didn't you tell me

before?"
"It wasn't appropriate."
"Appropriate?

Possible?

Look, don't you think I'd like to

know why I'll never have children?"
"Yes.
sterility.

But we're not certain exactly what caused your
Information on pesticide toxicity is sketchy at best.

There's a lot we just don't know.

But, yes, there is a possible

Tyranny of the Downbeat

21

relationship between your sterility and the contaminated
groundwater.

We just haven't felt compelled to research it

enough to be able to draw any definite conclusions."
"So you don't have enough information?"
"In general, no, not enough.

And on you specifically,

certainly not."
"Why did it take so long to show up?"
"Pesticides are made up of chlorinated hydrocarbons.
name's not important.

Their behavior is.

your body any number of ways.

They can be taken into

Through the lungs, the gastro-

intestinal tract, or the skin.

Once you're exposed and they're

in your body, they're not metabolized right away.
in your body fat.

The

They're stored

It could take 10, 20, or 30 years before the

effects become apparent."
"Try 40 years."

Elliot was staring over the back fence at the orchard
beyond.
knows.

He was thinking.

And he was getting angry.

"Nobody

And the people who should know aren't doing anything

about it."
His father continues to look away, but he's still listening.
"I think we're going to have to change that.
once in my life.

I almost died

Now I'm being told that I've died a second

time."
He has his father's attention again.
"That my family will not continue beyond me.
dying of cancer.

Right now.

I may even be

And someone I don't know did this

Tyranny of the Downbeat

22

to me because it was easy.

Because it was going to affect their

profit margin."
"So, what are you going to do?"
"I don't know.

Yet.

But I will get even."

Shaking his head, "Still haven't changed.

Still can't

forgive and forget."
"You know what they say?
even.'

'I don't get mad, I just get

I've always been that way and I'm not about to change

now."
"Do unto others?
"That's right.

...

"

I will not go out of my way to hurt people.

But you try and pull something like that on me and I'll be all
over you like a bad suit."

He had to smile.

That was an old one

he'd never used.

I never dreamed of being Shakespeare or Goethe, and I never
expected to hold the great mirror of truth up before the world; I
dreamed only of being a little pocket mirror, the sort that a
woman can carry in her purse; one that reflects small blemishes,
and some great beauties, when held close to the heart.
-- Peter Altenberg
He's the perfect stranger, like a cross of himself and a fox.
He's a feeling arranger and a changer of the ways he talks.
He's the unforeseen danger and the keeper of the key to the
locks.
Know when you see him, nothing can free him.
Step aside, open wide, it's the loner.
-- Neil Young, "The Loner"
Elliot Lucian Lincoln is a storyteller.

He creates

fantasies in a medium that is literally faster than the human
eye.

His fantasy world is his home.

himself.

He has friends there.

He has called it that

It is comfortable there.

He

Tyranny of the Downbeat

23

says that sometimes you have to leave home and travel somewhere
else.

But he knows he will always return there again.
In a business that's enslaved by technology, Elliot remains

a free man.

In his world, the story is the story, not the exotic

settings; not the special effects.
frailty, not technological wizardry.

He is interested in human
He feels a movie filled

with nothing but special effects would be pretty boring.

Though

he uses the technology to more efficiently tell his tales, he
takes pains to explain that it is the message that is most
important, not the messenger; not how it is packaged or
delivered.

He believes the hardware will always fail when faced

with a determined, united human spirit.
It is still a question that bothers him some.
machine serve humanity or crush it?

Will the

He can't help wondering

about it as the hum of electronic ingenuity encases him.
he doesn't like technology.

He says

He distrusts it, especially what it

can do to people; particularly when it is misused or abused.

It

destroys their independence, their analytic capabilities, their
free will; their ability to make their own decisions.

It does

worry him, even as the promise of its imaging, sound, and
reality-bending power taunts his fingertips.

He knows he cannot

live without technology, so he is dedicated to using it to defeat
"the inhumanity of unchecked technology."
That doesn't mean he's not intrigued by it and attracted to
it.

He explains that society's perception of visuals is much

faster now than in the past.

The pace of editing, the speed of

movement through the frame, are what he's interested in.

He

Tyranny of the Downbeat

likes speed.

24

Always has.

He wants to see how fast he can go,

how many images he can layer, before the perception blurs.
says it's a lot like his personal life:

He

how fast he can go, how

much he can do, before it too becomes an incomprehensible blur.
You wouldn't know it to look at him, but you're staring at
one of the most successful deal-makers in the history of
Hollywood.

His style is more like the owner of the local

five-and-dime in a small midwestern town than the high-pressure,
fast-talking sleazoids that trade in dreams in the real and
imagined communities around Hollywood and Vine.
Self-effacing, he's physically so low-key as to seem almost
apologetic.

But that's one way to maintain the privacy he must

have and he so jealously and tenaciously guards.
He's always pale.

Lying in the sun catching rays is not

important to a man who spends most of his life in dark rooms.
His translucent skin and stooped demeanor make him seem almost
fragile, breakable.

He is often underweight and anemic, which

changes the illusion into reality.

Perhaps the fact that he

lives on burgers, fries, and milkshakes helps explain the way
he looks.
His brown hair, flecked with gray, above mildly bushy
eyebrows and a sometime beard of the same colors, swept into a
wave straight back, almost a Del Shannon pompadour, gives you a
clue about what time period he seems to crave and feel safest
living in.

Curly, wavy, and thick, it's long in the back and

peaks over his ears.

He has somewhat large ears, which is

probably why he wears his hair a little long.

He has a thin,

Tyranny of the Downbeat

25

pointed nose with slightly flared nostrils.
pinched I think they call it.

His mouth is small;

And his bottom teeth are somewhat

irregular.
His eyes, though.
martyr.

His eyes are the messianic blue of the

They betray him.

This is a man with a mission and the

energy and dedication of a zealot.

He is inspired by his own

vision of things and his eyes blaze it.

They are always busy,

darting, moving, as if constantly scanning a screen.

He

sometimes hides them behind Ray Ban aviator glasses.

Holding

back the heat, concealing the conviction.
Though his demeanor seems easy-going, he is intense.
posture says one thing, the eyes another.

The

When he talks to you,

you sometimes wonder if he's talking with you or at you, or if
you're really even in the room at all.

He doesn't look you in

the eyes, but stares around and beyond, as if he might lose some
of the power of his eyes by locking onto yours.
Like the food he eats and the hairstyle, everything about
Elliot tells you he liked life best in the late Fifties and early
Sixties.

His clothes, though not off the racks of a golden

oldies nostalgia store, remind us of a simpler time.

Over white

T-shirts, straight from the racks at Penny's or K-Mart, he wears
pearlescent cowboy shirts, tucked into corduroy pants girded with
a large brown belt.

Sometimes he'll trade these in for a flannel

work shirt and faded blue, button-fly Levi's.

He doesn't like

wearing short-sleeved shirts, choosing instead to wear his
sleeves rolled up to the elbow.

He wears his thin, gold-banded

watch with the face on the inside of his wrist.

It makes you

Tyranny of the Downbeat

26

wonder if there's a slide-rule still dangling from his belt.

The

motorcycle boots he once wore have given way to the fashion and
comfort of designer tennis shoes.
His speech is deliberate.

He speaks in a soft, slightly

raspy voice originating from somewhere at the back of his throat.
The ends of sentences sometimes trail off to something like a
whisper.

It almost looks like his voice-track is out of sync

with his lips.

He often grimaces, screwing up a cheek, when

stuck for a word, or arches his eyebrows to make a point.

His

gestures are small, contained, not flamboyant.
His wealth has allowed him a vice and an indulgence that is
also an homage.

He collects vintage Porsche roadsters,

especially the model James Dean was driving when he skidded into
pop culture history.
In the few pictures that adorn the flat surfaces of his
office and home, as well as publicity stills and bio pics,
there is a resemblance to an icon of the Fifties that Elliot
cultivates in his external life.

The hair, the slouch, the

mumble, the clothes, the cars, the shades.

All that's missing is

the cigarette dangling precariously and jauntily from the right
edge of the lower lip, a vice abandoned to health and mortality
which his self-destructive idol laughed at.
Elliot often said that assuming the persona of Jimmie Dean
made it easier for him to deal with people in Hollywood and New
York.

It was a character he could hide behind when he had to

make difficult decisions.

He, like Dean, prefers not to confront

people directly, choosing to let things ride until forced to make

Tyranny of the Downbeat

a decision.

27

Then he reacts quickly, sometimes violently.

Like Dean, Elliot is a fatalist.
hand that was dealt him.
round.

Jimmie Dean played the

No regrets, no requests for another

He looked at life as it sped past, around, and over his

windshield and he laughed.

Most people have painted a picture of

Jimmie Dean that was negative, that portrayed him as a loser.
Ask Elliot about that and he will tell you Jimmie Dean was a
winner because he lived life his way.
honest.

He was straight-forward.

He was consistent.

He was

And it was people like Dean

that became the heroes of Elliot's movies.
Jimmie Dean found stardom as a rebel without a cause.
the title of the film was misleading.

Dean had a cause.

But
And

Elliot, another rebel because he turned his back on Hollywood,
has his own cause.

He too will do things his way.

Elliot isn't theoretical.
methodical.

He isn't emotional.

He is

He doesn't draw conclusions beyond the facts.

Beyond the obvious.

He is uncomfortable with too much analysis.

Quite simply, he's interested only in the truth.
motivates him.

The clarity of his own vision.

That's what
That's what makes

him run.
And like his hero, Elliot is reclusive.

He once said, "I do

things my way until they're done the way I want them done.

And I

can't-- no, I don't want to rely on anyone because they might let
me down, or I might let them down.
yourself.

It's just easier to rely on

That way nobody expects anything more or less.

Nobody

takes the fall but you."
Distance defines his dealings with people.

He never lets

Tyranny of the Downbeat

anyone too close.

28

He's just cautious.

And those who work for,

and with him, sense that it's his independence that creates the
distance, not a dislike or mistrust of people.

As a result, in

an industry known for its petty backstabbing transitoriness, the
employees at "RebelFilms", whose roster, not surprisingly is
published in the form of a high school annual, are some of the
most loyal in the business.
Elliot's relationship with his father was not unlike that
between Jimmie Dean and Jim Backus in "Rebel".

They never quite

seemed to get in sync, to understand the other.

Elliot's father

thought his son was lazy and, when he decided to become a movie
maker, he was baffled how his son could make a living carrying around
a camera.

But he could and his father was finally able to express

his pride in his son's accomplishments, though he still remained a
little confused by how.
The parallels with Dean, whether contrived or natural, were
many, especially when it came to women.
with women.

Elliot was never at ease

They seemed to represent something dangerous, unknown.

As a teenager, his fear of rejection made it easier to substitute
cars for girls in his adolescent affections.
place of cars.

Then movies took the

Sexually, he was lost in the Fifties.

and somewhat repressed.

Puritanical

And when he got caught up in the sexual

revolution, he got ate up, a casualty of new attitudes.
When he met Maryanne, he thought he had finally found
someone he could live out his days with.
was running out of time.
hourglass turning.

The fact is, he felt he

He wanted a family and he sensed the

He admired Maryanne, and grew to love her.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

29

Unfortunately, he was never able to become really close to her.
Elliot was never comfortable with physical expressions of
affection, for friends, family, or colleagues.
embraces were not familiar territory.

Kisses and

You could almost see him

shrink inside himself whenever you tried to hug him.
Probably the one personality trait that was the closest bond
between the two rebels, that tied them the tightest, was their
naivete, their trusting openness.

For people who achieved so

much success in their lives, whose impact had been so great, it
was almost impossible to imagine how insulated and trusting they
were and could be.

It certainly caused the death of one, as he

found it harder and harder to cope with the demands and duplicity
of the world.

And it was setting up the other for the trial of

his life.
Ironically--and prophetically--Elliot's name foreshadowed
his life.

It seems his mother was addicted to the television

show, "The Untouchables," probably because of a handsome young
actor named Robert Stack.
him.

Impulsively, she named her son after

Elliot was indeed a lot like the character.

way Stack played Ness.
Naive, trusting.

But not the

More the way Kevin Costner played him.

Hoping to change the world.

Jimmie Dean died young.

Elliot nearly did.

On graduation

day, as he was returning home from his last day of high school,
he was excited and probably driving a little too fast.

Too fast

to react to the old pick-up truck that broadsided his cherried
Porsche speedster.
saved him.

The walnut tree stopped him.

Because it didn't hold.

The seat-belt

He was thrown clear of the

Tyranny of the Downbeat

wreck.

30

A ruptured spleen began pumping blood into his stomach

cavity.

He lost two pints.

He made it to the hospital in time

to remove it and stop the bleeding.

He missed graduation, but he

got the message.
He didn't know it then, because he, like the rest of our
modern culture, had lost touch with our mythological roots.
he changed on that day.
been reborn.

He was transformed.

But

He had died and

And like those ancient tribal members who dance

with death, he became magical; a spiritual man.

A mythmaker.

interpreter.

And he chose

Of the future.

He would lead us.

An

fantasy to show the way.

The week following the reunion, they sit in one of the dark
cubicles, reviewing a rough cut.
assistant, Janet Baio.

Elliot and his administrative

He points at the screen with his left

hand, controlling the Kem table with his right.
point.

Janet laughs at something.

continues, slightly irritated.
humorless.

He's making a

He doesn't see the humor and

He can sometimes be soon

It's still bothering him.

He slumps back in his chair.

"Obviously, the people in

charge aren't going to do anything about this."
"Excuse me."
"So I will.

Jane looks over.

The continuity broken.

I've been accused of making films with no

content."
She turns to face him, drawn to the intensity in his eyes.
Distracted, almost to himself, he continues.
I'm going to go right for the heart on this one.

"Now I will.
My legacy to

Tyranny of the Downbeat

31

the children I will never have."
Now she's caught up with the conversation.

"Wait, you mean

you're thinking about cranking up another project?
six in process right now.

You're maxed out!

You've got

You can't take on

anything more."
Elliot turns slowly away from the screen.
into her eyes.
that?

He looks straight

"'Live, as though the day were here.'

Remember where it came from?

Well, the day is here.

Who said it?

Remember

And why?

We do it now."

He leaves her sitting there, looking at the floor and
wondering what will be the nature of this latest crusade.

Janet was having lunch with Paul, one of the staff editors.
It was a warm and breezy Northern California day, so they sit on
the raised deck.

Small talk gives way to what is becoming the

main topic of conversation at The Ranch.

Project #061988:

"The

Water Project."
Janet took a sip of her Diet Pepsi.
driving him.
"So?

"There's something else

He's over forty."

I'm almost forty."

"Then listen up.

It's around forty that people start to

feel that something's missing.

That something got away.

That

they missed something."
"What?

You think Elliot is having a mid-life crisis?

doesn't he go out and buy a sports car?
He doesn't notice, but she winces.
An affair, not his style.

Why

Or have an affair?"
"The sports car, maybe.

But I don't think either will take

Tyranny of the Downbeat

care of it.

32

Something else is driving him.

He's awfully damn

tired of all the critics saying he can't make a movie about
today."
"I don't want to hear this again.

The last time he tried

something new, it almost shut us down."
"They say he's in a fantasy rut.
has nothing to say.

About real people.

That he knows nothing, or
About contemporary

people living, working, loving, and dying."
"This facility's going to die if we don't keep him on
track."
"He doesn't care.
long enough.

He feels he's supported this operation

Now it's time for the company to serve him.

And he

really wants to do something that will make a difference."

AT INTERVALS THROUGHOUT THE NOVEL, I WILL ACTUALLY "CUT AWAY"
TO SEGMENTS FROM THE IN-PROGRESS DOCUMENTARY. THE EFFECT I AM
ATTEMPTING TO ACHIEVE IS THE ILLUSION OF WATCHING THE DOCUMENTARY
AS IT IS PUT TOGETHER. MANY OF THE INTERVIEWEES ARE REAL PEOPLE
SAYING THINGS THEY HAVE ACTUALLY SAID OR WRITTEN. THE TRANSCRIPT
OF THE DOCUMENTARY WILL APPEAR IN A MOTION PICTURE FORMAT TO
DISTINGUISH IT FROM THE REST OF THE TEXT.
FADE IN:
1

ON BLACK
TITLE -- SUPER
Give me a lever and a place to stand, and I will move the
world.
-- Archimedes

MUSIC: UP FULL THEN UNDER NARRATION
THEME #1: Dramatic Classical Theme/"New World Symphony"
DISSOLVE:
2

EXT. EMPTY INLAND VALLEY - EARLY MORNING ESTABLISHING SHOT

Tyranny of the Downbeat

33

It is almost daybreak. The full moon burns pale fire low on the
horizon. We see a fresh water cistern surrounded by barbed-wire.
Standing near its edge is a lone sentry, silhouetted against the
moon. The reflection of man and moon stares back at us from the
shimmering surface.
Suddenly, there is a second figure rising up out of the foreground.
He moves slowly toward the guard. Then he's on top
of him, riding him to the ground. His raised fist crashes down
five or six times. Then he stops.
Slowly, he lifts his head and looks around, like an animal that's
just killed its next meal. We look closer. We see that the
intruder is Southeast Asian.
He quickly scrambles down the rise and returns carrying some
empty bags. He starts filling the bags with water. Because it's
scarce. And very little of it is clean. He has none, with no
ration due until next month. So he's stealing it. For his
family. For his survival.
MUSIC CHANGE: UP FULL THEN UNDER
THEME #2: Synthesized Variation of Previous Theme
DISSOLVE:
3

MONTAGE

STOCK FOOTAGE showing natural and man-made disasters, including
pollution, dumping, dams breaking, rivers flooding, earthquakes.
JAMES HOUSTON (V.O.)
Imagine a planet destroyed by development. A
world decimated by a combination of natural
and man-made disasters. Earthquake, drought,
AIDS, "the Greenhouse Effect," and toxic
pollution.
DISSOLVE:
4

EXT. ENDLESS DESERT VISTA - ESTABLISHING SHOT

CAMERA frames a WIDE SHOT of dry land.
Imagine a land with no water.
5

EXT. STREET - ESTABLISHING SHOT

Two armed sentries stand guard near a tanker truck filled with
water. It is being rationed out and sold to people.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

34

Imagine a time when the good water--what
hasn't been poisoned by industry--is
controlled by the very wealthy.
6

EXT. DESERT ROAD LEADING TO A DAM - ESTABLISHING SHOT

CAMERA follows as a ragged, but well-armed group of bandits chase
the water tanker across the desert. They are trying to steal the
water.
You can live without food for quite a while.
But not without water.
That's why people will steal it.
for it.

Even kill

Can you imagine that?
7

MONTAGE

Quick-cut series of California scenes.
development.

Emphasize down-side of

Then imagine California in the next century.
In this program, we intend to examine the
agribusiness conspiracy to control
California's water. To assess the innocence
or guilt of the farming, agrichemical, and
political community for their environmental
insults.
MUSIC CHANGE: UP FULL THEN UNDER
THEME #3: "Hotel California" Instrumental
DISSOLVE:
8

EXT. COASTLINE - ESTABLISHING SHOT

AERIAL SHOT flying south along California's coastline.
HOUSTON (V.O.)
"This is the prow and plunging cutwater,
This rock shore here, bound to strike first,
and the world will watch us endure
prophetical things
And learn its fate from our ends."
9

WIDE SHOT

Continue AERIAL SHOT. CAMERA does a FLY-BY, then a 360 SPIN, of
JAMES HOUSTON, author and Native Californian. He is walking

Tyranny of the Downbeat
along the edge of the coast near Big Sur.
JAMES HOUSTON
Poet Robinson Jeffers was really describing
all of California when he wrote those lines
describing the Big Sur coastline in "Thurso's
Landing."
10

MEDIUM SHOT

CAMERA, still mounted on helicopter, PEDESTALS DOWN to frame
HOUSTON with the ocean spreading out behind him.
It's been observed that tomorrow always seems
to come first to California.
11

MEDIUM CLOSE UP

Second CAMERA mounted on a STEADICAM follows as HOUSTON walks
along the edge of the cliff.
There is definitely a sense of destiny that
comes with living here. Perhaps it is the
nearness to the coast.
The coastal tribes used to call this
shoreline the brink of the world. The
coastoans would dance on the shore, and over
and over they would sing out that they were
dancing on the brink of the world.
12

MEDIUM SHOT

CAMERA frames HOUSTON in foreground with long shot of coastline
and ocean trailing off behind him.
As a place and state of mind, California
represents the ultimate frontier. The final
destination.
California has carried into the twentiethcentury the paradoxical meanings of the
nineteenth-century frontier: the place of
both new beginnings and of violent endings.
13

WIDE SHOT

First CAMERA, still mounted, lifts up off HOUSTON, sweeping past
him, over the edge, and west across the ocean.
As author Joan Didion once observed: "Things
had better work here, because here, beneath

35

Tyranny of the Downbeat
that immense bleached sky, is where we run
out of continent."
MUSIC:

UP FULL THEN OUT

BREAK POINT IN DOCUMENTARY

36

Tyranny of the Downbeat

37
CHAPTER 3

When they tell you to grow up, they mean to stop growing.
-- Tom Robbins
Out on the road today, I saw a "Deadhead"
sticker on a Cadillac
A little voice inside my head said, "Don't
look back. You can never look back."
I thought I knew what love was
What did I know?
Those days are gone forever
I should just let them go but-I can see you-Your brown skin shinin' in the sun
You got that top pulled down and that
radio on, baby
And I can tell you my love for you will still
be strong
After the boys of summer have gone.
-- Don Henley, "The Boys of Summer"
There's a new saint in the cultural hagiography these days,
born of the public's insatiable need to know, it's rampant
illiteracy, and the power of the media.

The most visible of this

new phenomenon, and perhaps the most laughable, is Geraldo
Rivera.

He, who once tracked down the Mafia and exposed drug

kingpins, now stoops to blowing open empty vaults and telling
tales of Elvis's phantom lovers.

These people are really not

interested in hard news, just the sensational.
investigative journalists.
gunslingers."

They're known as

I prefer to call them "video

They're free-lance information junkies and

publicity hounds.

Brought in when the ratings start to sag.

Brought in, in the name of truth.

I know, because that's what I

used to do.
I had become more and more disillusioned with the way things
were.

One night, while watching the evening news, I got angry.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

38

I realized that I had a talent, a skill, that I was wasting.

I

was a shaper of public opinion.

I

could make people cry.
enough.

I was a master manipulator.

I could make them laugh.

But it wasn't

I wanted desperately to make an impact.

There were

powerful vested interests in this country that controlled the
media and kept most of the public in the dark.
influence to get things done their way.
had seen it.

Sometimes aided it.

That used their

It wasn't paranoia.

I

I decided to blow their cover.

It was time to stop making money and start making a difference.
That's when Elliot called.

The timing, the coincidence, was hard

to ignore.
Travis Blair Western.

A dramatic name, given with great

expectations to the first-born son.

His appearance and demeanor,

like so many born and raised in the valley, is average, almost
non-descript.

He seemed to cultivate that because, as he often

pointed out, if they couldn't see you they couldn't hit you.
He stands five-ten, when he isn't stoop-shouldered and
shuffling, the result of no one telling him to stand up straight.
Now he does it because his stomach muscles have gotten beer-soft
in his middle age.

His hair is a lightish dark brown, thinning

at back and in the front.

He makes no attempt to have what's

left perform contortions and miracles of coverage to give the
illusion of fullness.

Like him, it is what it is.

He's

comfortable with it and doesn't really care what you, or anyone
else, thinks.
He is neither handsome nor unattractive, simply average.
The residual childhood freckles and chipped front tooth make him

Tyranny of the Downbeat

39

look like he should still be fishing for tadpoles or throwing
dirt clods.

As do the scars that dot his body, forehead,

stomach, and legs, all from some type of athletic injury
sustained while trying to grow up.
real attractiveness.

And that's the key to his

His boyishness, his energy, his enthusiasm,

his humor, his ability to make people feel good, his ability to
have fun and enjoy life.

They like him because he's fun to be

with, when he wants to be with.

Which isn't all the time.

He's active, even hyper, and never really seems to slow
down.

To stop and read a book, or just lay on the beach, he

thinks is a waste of time when he could be doing something
productive.

He likes staying busy.

He's healthy.

Probably as healthy as he's been since high

school, thanks to a better diet, exercize, and a wife who won't
let him slip.

But he does have a drinking problem.

he's yet to really deal with.

Something

It killed his mother and some of

her relatives, so he will have to deal with it.
He and his wife both work, making a good living.
they're careful with their expenses and investments.

But
He wants to

make sure he'll always have money, unlike his childhood.

He

never went without, but there was never enough money for the
frivolities, the movies or the candy bar.

His friends always had

money and he seemed to always be the kid with his face pressed
against the glass staring in at the candy store.

He swore it

would never happen again.
He dresses casually, but neatly.
freshly scrubbed.

He likes being clean,

He's almost compulsive about it, which is

Tyranny of the Downbeat

40

obvious from the way he looks and the way his house and his car
and his desk look.

Everything is neat and tidy and in its place.

His whole life is too organized.

To the point where there seems

to be no room for spontaneity.

He'll probably die from it.

Certainly not the spontaneity.

It's part of his obsession with

controlling his world.

Which may explain why he's had trouble

with family and friends, girlfriends and wives.
wives.

Especially

He was on the backside of a marriage going down.

and family.
He had met Cassandra at college, although she had grown up
just five blocks away.

She was five years younger; the same age

as his younger brother.

He knew her older sister, who was the

same age and went to all the same schools through high school.
He remembered seeing Cassandra, or Sandy, walking or riding
around the neighborhood.

Looking lost and for a way out.

A mutual friend got them both to play on a college, co-ed,
intramural volleyball team.
home, he asked for a date.

One weekend, she asked for a ride
They went out the next week.

slept together that night and never looked back.

Now, thirteen

years later, they're both looking in different directions.

We used to have good times together.
But now I feel them slip away.
It makes me cry.
To see love die.
So sad to watch good love go bad.
Remember how you used to fear it.
You said nothing could change your mind.
It breaks my heart.
To see us part.
So sad to watch good love go bad.

They

Tyranny of the Downbeat

41

Is it any wonder,
That I feel so blue?
When I know for certain,
That I'm losing you.
-- The Everly Brothers, "So Sad"
In 1978, Elliot Lincoln took the first step toward
realizing a dream.

He purchased a ranch that was a former

Spanish land grant in Marin County, north of San Francisco,
across the Golden Gate Bridge.

Over the next few years, he added

several bordering properties of gently rolling hills and deep-cut
valleys.
Like most of the people who grew up and lived for a time in
the valley towns of California, and who seemed to fondly recall
those days, Elliot liked staying home.

He wasn't comfortable in

the city and preferred a quiet night at home with Chinese and a
rented movie to the bustle and tension of a night in the canyons
of the city.

That's why he bought the land in Marin.

It was

close enough to a dangerous San Francisco, but it was in the
country.

And it reminded him of a time and terrain around the

town where he grew up.

It didn't get quite as hot as the valley,

but it had the same rolling hills, green in winter and dusty
brown in summer.
Exiting off Highway 101 north and skillfully following the
convolutions of Sir Francis Drake Boulevard will lead you to
an old weathered wood and baling wire gate, sentried by
California redwoods.

Ascending a short rise and then dropping

down into the main valley, the road splits, encircling a lake.
Security gates, requiring computer card keys, guard the main

Tyranny of the Downbeat

road.

42

Down a road to the left are the original ranch buildings.

Renovated, they now house support staff and the ranch hands who
still tend the fences and roads.

Arcing around the lake in a

half-circle is the main house, guest houses, production,
administration, and facilities buildings.

This is where most of

the work is done.
All the buildings are white Victorian.

Some are

two-storied, resembling the row of houses along Alamo Park in San
Francisco.

Each has a wide, low porch running around the front

and along the sides.

Low rock walls surround the group.

Buried

beneath the lawns, the meadow, and the softball diamond at the
back of the main group is an interconnected system of wires,
cables, and optical fibers for telephone, computer, and power.
An equally intricate system of pipes crisscross the same area to
provide fresh drinking water and irrigation water for the
often-parched grounds.
Totally self-contained and self-sufficient, The Ranch is a
"new age, only-in-California" company town.

"Ralston

Remembered," as it's officially known--in homage to his
hometown--was designed to give Elliot a headquarters unlike any
movie company; something between a studio and a college campus.
His office sits atop the main house, an isolated aerie
surveying the valley from an unbroken, window-paned, 360 degrees.
The floor is a gleaming, buffed oak.
and origin lie scattered about.
recline to one side.

Rugs of southwestern design

Dusky rose chairs and a couch

In the center, spotted by an octagonal,

stained-glass skylight straight above, is Elliot's work station.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

43

Plexiglass desk holding a telephone and NeXT computer.
Stereo equipment and playback units lie partially sunk along one
wall of windows.

Monitors and speakers spider-dangle from the

ceiling.
This was my first visit.

Part of the indoctrination tour.

And Elliot was obviously very proud of what he'd done.

He told

me about it as we walked up the drive to the main house.
"This is my think tank.

A writer once likened it to a

'cinematic yacht club.'"
"A dream come true, Commodore?"
"All the films we've made, all the money we've made, was
done so we could build a place to think, free from all the
outside distractions."
"A retreat from the deal-makers?"
"And hand-shakers.

I've always wanted to get back to a film

school kind of situation.

Where a group of people, a community,

could make films together."
"People that respect each other's work?"
"I'm so tired of having to put up with all the flakes and
used-car salesmen in this business.

All the jerks I have to deal

with to get things done."
"Do you still plan to make features?"
"Sure.
to make.

Some will be experimental.

The kind of films I used

Pure film."

"Is there a future for film?

Especially pure film?

Or do

you think the electronic media will replace it?"
"There are a number of us in the industry who feel video

Tyranny of the Downbeat

44

will become the primary distribution medium."
"What about the quality of the projected image?

That's

still pretty questionable isn't it?"
"Not any more.

High definition television is already giving

us enough lines of resolution to project a very high quality
image.

There will be a time very soon when features will be

shot, posted, and projected using video instead of film.

In

fact, some of the more innovative video production houses here in
the Bay Area are already experimenting with it."
"And what about film?"
"It's getting too expensive to make films anymore.
will still be made.

But they'll be more experimental.

Films
More like

art films."
"More like archives?"
"No, more like works of art."
As we worked our way through the administration and
production offices, we met a handful of staffers, including Janet
Baio, who introduced herself because Elliot wasn't very good at
it.
Having ascended to the eagle's nest, Elliot offered me a
cup of tea before he slouched onto the couch.

Janet joined us,

pulling up a chair near a windowed and shuttered wall.
who was known for not liking to talk much wanted to.

The man
Receding

into the couch and crossing his legs, body language signaling
withdrawal, he starts to speak.
-- Elliot (quiet and resigned)
typecast.

Like an actor.

"The problem is, I'm

I've made a lot of different kinds of

Tyranny of the Downbeat

movies.

45

But the public and the critics only remember the

blockbusters.

The adventures, the fantasies.

that's all I can make.

Now they think

What's worse, that's all they want."

-- Western (sympathetic)

"I guess they just want you to

keep making the same movie over and over again.

The studios like

that."
-- Elliot (sighing)

"Anything that's different bombs.

They

just won't let me play against the grain."
-- Janet (encouraging)

"So make a serious film.

Show them

you've got one in you."
-- Elliot (leaning to his right, head on hand, elbow resting
on the back of the couch)
things.

"I'm in a rut.

I'm not something.

and adjusted.
no tension.

I'm insulated.
I need tension.

A routine.

I'm settled in.
Cut off.

I do some

My life's too safe

It's too easy.

I need a change.

-- Western (reeling with the feeling)

There's

A challenge."

"Reminds me of

Richard Chamberlain in 'The Last Wave,' living his safe,
well-adjusted life.

Until the aborigines show him that life is

not the middle road.

It's not the path of least resistance."

-- Janet (hanging fire)
think we want change.

"Change is scary.

We think we need it.

Very scary.

We

But we sure cling to

the way things are, or the way things were."
-- Elliot

"I think most of us really like stability.

stay put, holding on to what we know, or think we know.
really don't know ourselves or other people.
Chill?'

'We're all alone out there.

out there again.'"

We'll

But we

Remember 'The Big

And tomorrow we're going

Tyranny of the Downbeat

46

-- Janet (rationalizing)
make them laugh.

"Look at your movies.

You can excite them with effects."

-- Elliot (resisting)

"You know, they're right."

-- Western

"Who?"

-- Elliot

"The critics."

-- Western

"How's that?"

-- Elliot

You can

"Sure, I can do all that.

But I can't make them

cry."
-- Janet (still trying to break through) "But your films
are positive.
and adults.

You've created all kinds of role models for kids
They respect you and your vision.

feel optimistic.

You make people

I really think they feel good about life and

their world when they leave one of your movies."
-- Elliot
-- Western
hope.

"Right.

But it's only surface."

"Excuse me, but what's wrong with giving people

Making them believe things will get better.

just leave them with the down-side.

You can't

They already know how bad

things are."
-- Elliot (brightening philosophic)

"I really feel film

should do what the church and society used to do.

It should tell

us what's right and wrong, good and evil."
-- Janet (jumping on board)

"That reminds me of something an

expatriate film producer once said.
empire with motion pictures.

That America built its

Movies spread American culture

around the world the same way Rome's legions once did.

He said

he learned about blue jeans and hairstyle and music and the way
to dress and dance and eat and about hamburgers.

You name it.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

47

He became Americanized like every kid in the Western world.

He

was basically saying that Hollywood made America what it is in
the eyes of the world."
-- Western (sarcastic cynical)
sees us now.

"And look how the world

'Porky's 9' and 'Rambo 19.'"

-- Elliot

"That is exactly what I'm saying.

Mass

media--any type of entertainment--should give us examples of how
to live our lives.
inescapable.

Its influence is so total.

It's a part of our culture.

society operates.

It's everywhere,

It determines how our

How many times do you need to see a terrorist

asking to be interviewed by the local news media to know that?"
-- Janet

"That life imitates art, not the other way

around?"
-- Western

"It's 'real to reel.'"

-- Janet (getting frustrated)
takes the blame?
-- Elliot

"So who's responsible?

Who

You and me?"
"And everyone else in our industry.

We're

responsible for the shape the world's in."
-- Janet (reaching the end of the rope)

"Come on.

That's a

major responsibility."
-- Elliot (not to be deterred)
(conspiratorial)

"And it's all ours.

But, it also means we can have an impact.

can change things for good.

We can make a world of difference.

The government's not going to do it.
hell aren't going to do it.

The corporations sure as

It's people like us, who can reach

other people, who are going to have to do it.
arguments.

Forget logic."

We

Forget rational

Tyranny of the Downbeat

48

-- Western (catching the spirit)

"Go right for the heart.

The emotional appeal."
-- Elliot

"That's exactly right."

-- Janet (catching up)
said.

"Don't forget what Louis B. Mayer

'If you want to send a message, call Western Union.'

A

message film, especially one like you're describing, will never
sell."
-- Elliot (messianic)

"Wrong.

This audience grew up on

'Medium Cool,' 'Easy Rider,' 'The Graduate,' 'Dr. Strangelove,'
'2001,' and 'Coming Home.'

If there's a message AND it's still

entertaining; if it's truthful, they will listen and they will
act."
-- Western

"And they will cry."

-- Elliot (remembering)

"When I made my second move.

My

so-called 'coming of age' picture, I realized that making a fun,
uplifting, positive movie could be a real rush.
entertain.

It could

And it could make a point without being preachy.

I

haven't done one since then."
-- Western

"And that's why this project means so much to

you?"
-- Elliot (pulling at his beard, his eyes defocus and
he drifts into his own world, no longer talking with us)

"The

point I was making in that movie was that you can't hang on to
the past.

Things change.

-- Janet

Life goes on."

"You can't stay seventeen forever."

-- Elliot (not hearing, drifting deeper)

"Life is a

constant transition and you have to accept that.

The future may

Tyranny of the Downbeat

49

be completely strange and different, but that's the way it should
be.

The idea is not to be afraid of change.

you're leaving something you know behind.
moving forward.

It's sad because

But you have to keep

That's what life is all about.

have a good attitude about change or a bad one.
accept it so you can control it.
for you.

But you have to

So you you can make it work

(He starts heading back to the surface)

all I've ever been saying.

I'm just a storyteller.

stories help people cope, all the better.
with the tales I have to tell.
our faces.)

That's really
If my

But I always start

(Eyes focused and scanning both

This story has been hiding deep inside me until the

time for telling was right.
landing.

You can either

I remember watching our first lunar

I realized then that, unlike the maps we had in school,

there are no geographical or political boundaries.
land, sky, and water.
through space.
perspective.

There's only

We are one world, one race, hurtling

Most people can't handle that kind of global
But I recognized the interdependency.

I realized

that anything we did one one side of the planet, whether it's
polluting the water or setting off a nuclear device, would one
day reach the other side.

(Now completely back with the living.)

That's also why I have to do this project.
entertained people.

In a previous life, I

In this life, I want to enlighten them.

I

want them to stop shuffling in the terra firma and begin staring
at the stars.
Principle.

(startling us both with a question)

"The Gaea

Either of you ever heard of it?"

-- Western (recovering)

"The what?"

-- Elliot (zealot impatient)

"The Gaea Principle?"

Tyranny of the Downbeat

50

We both mumble a slightly embarrassed no.
-- Elliot (proselytizing)
Greek and Roman, I think.

It's what I've been talking about.

Gaea was the Earth Goddess.
planet.

"It's based on ancient mythology.

Mother Earth.

We started that way.

Once, we were one

And now we have lost our way.

We

have lost our respect for the Earth, wildlife, ourselves, and
other people.

And those who live out of harmony are doomed.

'Koyaanisqatsi.'

It's a movie.

The title is Hopi for 'Life

out of balance.'

And that's what it shows.

We're destroying

this planet."
-- Western (rallying a little too hard)

"We're writing a

check the future can't cash?"
Janet laughs.

Elliot doesn't appreciate the joke.

I'm

finding he often doesn't.
-- Elliot (walking over to his electronic wall, he picks up
a blank videotape)

"This is my thunderbolt.

With this, I will

give you truth and new perspectives."
-- Western
-- Janet
-- Western

"Remember 'The Flying Burrito Brothers?'"
"How could you forget a name like that?"
"There was a line in one of their songs.

'Destiny is in my right hand.'"
-- Elliot

"That's right.

We control our own fate.

Starting here.

Starting now."

He put the tape back.

"Have you

seen our new edit suite? (the jump cut in subject and attitude is
jarring)

I'd like to show it to you and I'd like you to meet

someone."
The cooler it got, the less light, I sensed the closer we

Tyranny of the Downbeat

51

were getting to the editorial catacombs.

Entry to each vaulted

area was allowed only with a magnetic ID card.
secure, very clean, very sterile.

And quiet.

Each was very
The white noise of

no noise.
Finally, we passed through another chamber in this
subterranean nautilus and entered a spacious room.

Monitors

lined one entire wall, fronting a scimitar-shaped, gun-metal gray
console.

To the left, through doubled-paned sliding glass doors

was master control.

The machine room that powered Nemo's dream.

Audio and video monitoring, digital switchers and audio mixing
boards spread away from the center of the console, where there
sat, hunched over the computerized editor, a round-backed crone
of a creature.
He was real hard to look at.
never been touched by sunlight.

Like something whose skin had
Pale and thin, he resembled

creatures you'd uncover in the garden, angry because you had
disturbed them.
greasy.
south.

His hair was long, shoulder-length, stringy and

Imagine equal parts Medusa and Rasputin.

A rocker gone

His teeth were chipped and rotting; partly because he

didn't eat right, partly because he smoked.
wore a leather thong.

Attached to it was a computer chip--the

first one designed for the personal computer.
talisman.

An amulet.

Around his neck he

It was his

A charm to protect him against sickness,

harm, or witchcraft.
Behind thick glasses, he had tiny eyes, pinholes that
squinted.

But they were voracious.

to feed his hungry mind.

They scanned CRTs, ravenous,

It was no surprise his nickname was

Tyranny of the Downbeat

"The Mole."

52

He spent all his free time cruising data bases,

burrowing deep into mounds of facts, labyrinths of figures,
seldom coming up for air.

And when he did, squinting in the

glare of day-to-day reality, he'd soon turn his back and return
to the dark, damp tunnels of anonymous binarity.
He was an information junkie.
it.

Self-proclaimed and proud of

He was a true believer that information is power; that the

old industries--coal, steel, and automobiles--were dead or dying.
Information was the new source of energy and power.
thrived on it.

He was one of a new breed.

And he

Those dedicated

hackers who dreamed of a new Jeffersonian democracy based on
equal access to information.

They believed that when everyone

had a computer, all political and economic power would flow back
to the individual and away from the corporations.
His modem was his equalizer, his key to the doors of
perception.

Through it, he could travel anywhere in time and

space, back to ancient Mesopotamian civilizations or forward to
colonies on Mars.

The possibilities were limited only by his

imagination, and The Mole was not known to be lacking in that.
There were no doors locked to his inquisitive mind.

He could

break any code, crack any security system, and often did it
simply for the fun of it, for the pure challenge, the thrill of
the chase.
Like any hacker worth his code, he liked to engage in
"softwar."

He was a software saboteur.

Any time he wanted, he

could alter data in computers at banks and stock brokerage
houses, or he could send false signals to air traffic

Tyranny of the Downbeat

controllers.

53

He loved exposing the dark side of silicon.

Often,

he would invade centralized data banks and read out information
on educational background, medical history, credit ratings,
employment records, political affiliations, and sexual
preferences.
One of the things he liked doing best was harassing the MIS
departments of major corporations.
and plant a "worm" or "virus".
he--and they--could go.

He'd get into their systems

Anywhere information could go,

And did.

For those unfamiliar with the

hacker and his world of communicable diseases, a program that
moves through a computer's memory is called a "worm," and a
stationary one is called a "virus," a "Trojan Horse," or a "logic
bomb."
Virus spreaders like The Mole were mostly men in their late
teens or early twenties--you couldn't really tell if The Mole fit
in either group--who had spent most of their life in the comfort
of the CRT.

They lived in a protected world, emotionally and

socially, and had never developed a code of ethics to govern or
judge what they were doing.

Forty years after the dawn of the

computer age, there had thus arisen a phalanx of programmers,
with access to the world's most powerful technology, and no
checks or balances to control it.
Mole.
it.

But that didn't bother The

He was far more interested in the game, not the ethics of
The challenge and the pursuit thrilled him.
So anything he could modem up was fair game for his probing

mind.

Nothing could stop him.

If it was confidential or top

secret, he simply broke the code, just to see what they were

Tyranny of the Downbeat

hiding.
facts.

But he was more than a hacker, more than a consumer of
He had a mind that could make connections.

analytical.
Holmes.

54

Very

His deductive reasoning rivaled the fabled mind of

He could see the interconnects.

That made him valuable.

It also made him dangerous.
To give him the money, and thus the freedom, to pay for his
habit, The Mole spent his daylight hours working as a videotape
editor at a local production house.
room at a computer CRT.

Still more hours in a dark

It was something he understood and

something he was very good at.

One of the best, in fact.

his client skills were questionable.
left alone with one.

But

That's why he was never

When Elliot needed an editor for "The Water

Project," he hired Moses.

He didn't know how much more he was

getting for his money.
Moses Campbell was also real hard to talk to, as I soon
found out when he shrank from my outstretched hand of greeting.
He not only wouldn't look you in the eye, but he refused to waste
any energy on words.
machines, not people.

He was used to communicating only with
He never used articles or prepositions;

any short, unnecessary words.
bursts.

He preferred talking in short

He communicated in binary bits.

sounded like a "B-movie" redskin.

Most of the time he

A grunting computer Cochise.

Elliot did most of his talking, which was something of a
joke considering how reticent he was.

In their war of words, The

Mole had already won.
"Moses, here, will be our editor."
A grunt of disdainful acknowledgement.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

55

"But, more importantly, he's my secret weapon.
to take us places no one else can.

He's going

It's up to him to get

everything he can, as quickly as he can, on the players in this
game."
The Mole shrinks from Elliot's affectionate pat on the
shoulder, his fingers flying over the console; a virtuoso
effortlessly and unconsciously weaving dreams at thirty frames a
second.
"Once he has the data, I want him to synthesize,
extrapolate, and trace the interconnects.
electronic scratch track.

The blueprint for a show that I hope

will entertain, inform, and motivate.
rebellion from here.

It will become my

We're going to start a

For safe drinking water. The documentary

will kick it off."
"Our shot heard 'round the world," I volunteer.

it.

"Congressional hearings won't do it.

Litigation hasn't done

Or petitions and letters to congress.

That's only created a

ripple.

We're going to make a wave.

We're going to use the

greatest weapon ever known to sway people."
"The motion picture?"
"It's also known as propaganda."
"Capture the heart and the head will follow?"
"I'll finance it myself.

Produce it here at The Ranch.

They say I can only do fantasy films.

Okay.

So let's do one.

For good."
I guess I shouldn't have been so surprised at his absolute
commitment, his blind dedication.

It really wasn't that hard to

Tyranny of the Downbeat

understand him.

56

From the moment the title sequence of his first

mega-hit began to roll, his every move and word had been a matter
of public record.

Janet and I talked about it afterwards.

She knew what was driving him.
wants is to do good.

"It's so clear.

All he

To make films that matter."

"Accentuate the positive."

I seemed to be stuck in a rut of

cliches this day.
"His view of the world is pretty simple.
problem with people who misuse their power.

He's got a real
He feels it's up to

the individual to stop it."
"To take it personally?"
"It's just basic human morality.

And he feels it's the only

way to master your fate, to control your destiny."
"The weight of the world?"
"And he takes that responsibility very seriously."

Janet

suddenly changed the subject, finally tired, and shifted to the
more immediate needs of the production itself.
"I need your opinion on something.
two ways with this show.

The way I see it, we can

We can use a professional, a third

person, as our narrator."
"Which will give us objectivity, but will be less
involving."
"Or, we can go the other way and be very subjective.

Get

people who are recognizable, who have credibility, and who are
emotionally committed to the same issues."
"People from different walks of live and disciplines."
"I think we need their energy and emotion.

If we stay too

Tyranny of the Downbeat

objective and scientific, I don't think we'll get the kind of
grass-roots response we want."
"So maybe we stack it with poets, musicians, scientists,
writers, politicians, and celebrities?"
"And the more native Californians the better."

The rumbling sky splinters with light.
Girls are dancing on the silver yacht.
A hot wind sweeps over the bay, from the island,
and slows the music blaring from below deck.
The son of a famous architect has won another drinking bout.
He's eager to show the girls his new trick;
he straps on his waxed wings
and climbs to the crow's nest
and, arms outspread, eyes closed,
makes his leap for the sun:
the boiling waves swallow him with a hiss.
The girls fall down laughing
and the rough shore darkens with rain.
That night, in a foreign capital, the architect
cancels his engagements to design
an obelisk for his son's grave.
At the funeral, strangers offer their condolences
and the priests remind him that all men die happy.
He goes home and dreams himself lost
in the labyrinth that made him famous:
the iron corridors pounded into steel,
the sparking hoofs and thunderous breath,
the smoke that reeks of perfume ...
He wakes in a cold sweat, a ball of string in his hands.
Maybe the priests were right.
Or maybe, in the end, fools like his son
chance on a kind of wisdom.
Coveting a final, futile gesture in order to cheat death.
One could do worse, the old man concludes, snuffing the light.
Much worse.
-- Nicholas Christopher, "Icarus"
Sometimes, late at night, as you walk by The Old Brewery,
you might think you have been beamed back to Terra Incognito.
You half expect to turn around and see a blazing fire
illuminating aboriginal features; a man growling low, licking his

57

Tyranny of the Downbeat

jaw harp.

58

Softly, but clearly, you can hear the primitive sounds

of the digereedoo.

No, you are not approaching the fatal

shore of Australia.

It's really nothing more than The Mole

taking a break from breaking code.
In the catacombs that are his offices, located in an old
brewery south of Market Street in San Francisco, there is not one
but many computers, of diverse ages, sizes, and capabilities.

It

resembles a museum of the transistor and semiconductor ages, as
much as a working computer lab.

Many lie open, disemboweled,

with parts tossed about and cables snaking in and through.

Some

are in various stages of disrepair or in-progress hot-rodding.
The Mole never seems capable of finishing a repair job.

Once a

machine is functioning, he could care less about how it looks,
whether the casing is closed or the wires neatly tucked inside.
As long as it works.
His central console resembles a space shuttle's instrument
panel or a rock keyboardist's bank of synthesizers.

The console

is designed "in-the-round," so there are 360 degrees of hardware
surrounding him.

The entire apparatus sits on a free-floating

platform with its own gyroscope and its own power source, free
from any vibrations created by passing trucks or shifting faults,
and isolated from power surges that could trash months of work.
Directly above the main CRT of his central console is a
shrine of sorts.

In the smokey half-light that always fills this

room, you can barely see that it is a yellowed piece of
newsprint, torn ragged and crudely framed between two pieces of
uneven plexiglass.

It hangs where a single shaft of light,

Tyranny of the Downbeat

59

streaming through a crack in the painted skylight above,
illuminates and isolates.

It is his dogma.

The man quoted is

his prophet.
Leon Martel, a futurist and political scientist, has a
message for America:

"We are in the midst of a major structural

change, as information rapidly replaces energy as society's main
resource.

Unlike energy, information is infinite and does not

disappear.

We're just beginning to use information, and the

changes we are going to see are, in many cases, contrary to the
common wisdom.

In the electronic computer age, information

already has added to the value of goods and services by
increasing labor's efficiency and dramatically shortening the
time it takes to develop products."
Below the frame is a bumper sticker with a simple
recommendation.

"COMPUTE, DON'T COMMUTE."

Moses affectionately nicknamed the entire apparatus
"Icarus," after the son of Daedalus the scientist, who, in his
attempt to escape the labyrinth of the Minotaur, with wings
fashioned by his father of feathers and wax, flew too close to
the sun, and fell to his death.
He prays he will not suffer a similar fate as he begins
dialing up his first data base.

We gather information here the way ancient cultures gathered
food. And for the same reasons--to live, to thrive.
-- "The Leading Edge"

Tyranny of the Downbeat

60
CHAPTER 4

I know when day is done,
That a new world awaits at dawn.
See them rolling along,
Pledging their love with a song.
Here on the range I belong,
Drifting along with the tumbling tumbleweeds.
-- Bob Nolan, "Tumbling Tumbleweeds"
DISSOLVE:
MUSIC CHANGE: UP FULL THEN UNDER
THEME #4: "Tumbling Tumbleweeds"
14

EXT. MOJAVE DESERT - ESTABLISHING SHOT

GROUND LEVEL SHOT of Mojave Desert. Far off, we can see a lone
man standing in the middle of this barren land. It is MARC
REISNER, author of "Cadillac Desert." The CAMERA begins racing
toward REISNER, skimming across the ground.
MARC REISNER
Everyone knows there's a desert somewhere in
California. But many believe it's off in
some remote corner of the state. Like here
in the Mojave, or Palm Springs, or maybe the
eastern side of the Sierra Nevada.
MEDIUM CLOSE UP
CAMERA comes to an abrupt halt just in front of REISNER.
But most of inhabited
strictest definition,
Angeles is drier than
as dry as the Sahel.
half as wet as Mexico
of the state receives
of rainfall a year.

California is, by
a semidesert. Los
Beirut. Sacramento is
San Francisco is only
City. About 65 percent
less than twenty inches

DISSOLVE:
15

MONTAGE

Shots of lush parks and streets in los angeles and the Central
Valley.
REISNER (v.o.)
California is a beautiful fraud. It fools
visitors into believing it is 'lush.'

Tyranny of the Downbeat

61

Everywhere you turn, you run up against 'the
holiness of the blooming desert'. Water and
irrigation, allowed us to establish a
beachhead here. And it's going to be
increasingly difficult to hold onto. Both
the water and the beachhead.
16

MEDIUM SHOT

LOW ANGLE SHOT of Metropolitan Water District's corporate
headquarters in Los Angeles. DOLLY SHOT of water fountain in
foreground.
Unless you're Los Angeles. Then you either
buy the water, or go out and get it. In the
movie "Chinatown," John Huston tells Jack
Nicholson: "Either you bring the water to
L.A., or you bring L.A. to the water."
CAMERA DOLLIES UP steps toward front door.
And in a scene from the beginning of that
movie, Nicholson's Jake Gittes, sitting in
the Los Angeles city council chambers, hears
this.
17

INT. COUNCIL CHAMBERS
Former Mayor SAM BAGBY is speaking. Behind him is a huge
map, with overleafs and bold lettering:
"PROPOSED ALTO VALLEJO DAM AND RESERVOIR"
Some of the councilmen are reading funny papers and
gossip columns while Bagby is speaking.

BAGBY
--Gentlemen, today you can walk out that door, turn
right, hop on a streetcar and in twenty-five minutes end up
smack in the Pacific Ocean. Now you can swim in it, you can
fish in it, you can sail in it -- but you can't drink it,
you
can't water your lawns with it, you can't irrigate your
orange
grove with it. Remember -- we live next door to the
ocean but we
also live on the edge of the desert. Los
Angeles is a desert
community. Beneath this building,
beneath every street
there's a desert. Without water the
dust will rise up and cover
us as though we'd never existed!
(pausing, letting the
implication sink in)
CLOSE - GITTES
sitting next to some grubby farmers, bored.

He yawns --

Tyranny of the Downbeat

62

edges away from one of the dirtier farmers.
BAGBY (O.S.)
(continuing)
The Alto Vallejo can save us from that, and I respectfully
suggest that eight and a half million dollars is a fair
price to pay to keep the desert from our streets and not on
top of them.
18

MEDIUM CLOSE UP

REISNER stands on steps of Metropolitan Water District.
REISNER
It's ironic. Pollution from another segment
of corporate America is responsible for
filling the air with carbon dioxide. And
this same carbon dioxide is slowly, but
definitely changing the world's climate. And
as it does, California will become even
drier. It will become ever more a desert.
MUSIC:

UP FULL THEN OUT

As REISNER exits frame, CAMERA DOLLIES BACK to frame flowing
fountain.
MUSIC CHANGE: UP FULL THEN UNDER
THEME #5: "Grand Canyon Suite"
19

EXT. WESTERN LANDSCAPE - ESTABLISHING SHOT

AERIAL SHOT of Monument Valley or the Grand Canyon.
MARC REISNER (v.o.)
You will not find it in an atlas, or on a
topographical map, or as you fly over it
escaping the East. This line that marks
where the West begins. But it is clear to
all who live there where it starts. It
begins, wrote Bernard DeVoto, "At the point
where the average annual rainfall drops below
twenty inches." And it goes a long way
toward explaining our passion for seeing
water under control.
DISSOLVE
20

WIDE SHOT

LOWER LEVEL AERIAL SHOT of Hoover Dam.
of dam.

CAMERA swoops over edge

Tyranny of the Downbeat

21

MEDIUM SHOT

GROUND LEVEL SHOT of two people. MARC REISNER and JOAN DIDION,
author and native Californian. They walk near the marble Star
Map at Hoover Dam.
JOAN DIDION
This marble star map traces a sidereal
revolution of the equinox. It fixes forever,
the man from the Bureau of Reclamation has
told me, for all time and for all people who
can read the stars, the date Hoover Dam was
dedicated.
22

CLOSE UP - DEDICATION PLAQUE.
DIDION (v.o.)
"They died to make the desert bloom," it
reads. This plaque is dedicated to the 96
men who died building this first of the great
high dams. This is the legacy of the West.
Our compulsive need to control water. To
hoard it. To not waste a drop.

MUSIC:

UP FULL THEN UNDER

DISSOLVE
23

MONTAGE

Series of beauty shots of Hoover Dam.
REISNER (v.o.)
Someday, archaeologists from some other
planet will sift through the bleached bones
of our civilization. They may well conclude
that our temples were dams. The permanence
of our dams will merely impress them. Their
numbers will leave them in awe.
CONTINUE MONTAGE.
Imponderably massive and constructed with
exquisite care, our dams will outlast
anything else we have built. Skyscrapers,
cathedrals, bridges, even nuclear power
plants. When forests push through the
rotting streets of New York and the Empire
State Building is a crumbling hulk, Hoover
Dam will sit astride the Colorado River much
as it does today. Intact, formidable,
serene.

63

Tyranny of the Downbeat

64

DISSOLVE
24

MEDIUM CLOSE - DIDION AND STAR MAP.
DIDION
The star map is here for that time when we
are all gone and only the dam is left. I
hadn't thought much of it when he said it
then, but I think of it now, ...

25

HIGH ANGLE WIDE SHOT - HOOVER DAM.
DIDION (v.o.)
... with the wind whining and the sun
dropping behind a mesa with the finality of a
sunset in space. I realize that is how I
have always seen it. A dynamo finally free
of man, splendid at last in its absolute
isolation, transmitting power and releasing
water to a world where no one is.

MUSIC:

UP FULL THEN OUT

BREAK POINT IN DOCUMENTARY
Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?
You been out ridin' fences for so long now.
Oh, you're a hard one,
I know that you got your reasons,
These things that are pleasin' you,
Can hurt you somehow.
Desperado, oh, you ain't gettin' no younger,
Your pain and your hunger,
They're driving you home.
And freedom, oh, freedom, well,
That's just some people talkin',
Your prison is walkin'
Through this world all alone.
-- Don Henley & Glenn Frey, "Desperado"
I had driven down the Pacific Coast Highway, south instead
of north, to meet my old friend.

We had lunch at Sharon's, a

warm, little, home-grown restaurant in Montara, near his home in
Moss Beach.
We caught up over the seafood marinara.

A lot had happened

Tyranny of the Downbeat

65

since that June day when we threw our mortarboards into the air
and kissed our collective college asses goodbye.

Then we got

good and drunk and left for our respective homes and our future
lives.

We phoned and wrote for a while, then he moved to

Washington state and then Los Angeles.
much.

And we didn't talk as

He moved back and our paths still hadn't crossed that

often.

Now we were working together on what was probably the

biggest and most important project in both our lives.
Living on the edge.
Always had.
from.

That's where he liked living his life.

Along the razor's edge.

That's where the title came

Where poets, dreamers, and madmen reside.

I suppose the

writer had him in mind when he talked about life needing to be
more than the every day; especially here in California, living
so close to the coast; to the edge of the world.
Patrick Michael "Monte" Walsh fit his nickname.
last of the cowboys.

He was the

Just like the character Lee Marvin played

in the movie of the same name.

He wasn't real good about change,

about getting older and slower.

About accepting the inevitable.

That the frontier was closing.

He carried a gun across his heart

and had a hair-trigger on his temper.

The boy liked to fight.

still remember trying to stand between him and a half-dozen of
Daly City's finest during San Francisco's "Grand National Rodeo"
one year.
Pat came from long line of native sons from the "auld
sod" of Ireland.

His great grandfather was a craftsman who did

all the goldwork on the dome of the state capital.
was once California's Lieutenant Governor.

His father

Like most Irishmen,

I

Tyranny of the Downbeat

66

the men in his family could have taken up the cloth or the badge.
Most of them rejected the cloth and became cops or marines.

His

grandfather was a homicide inspector for San Francisco's finest
and his uncle, a four-star general, commanded the Marines in
Vietnam.

There was always a strong family tradition of honor and

duty to country.
him.

He believed it, just like generations before

He lived with it every day of his life.

And though he

didn't break ranks during the so-called "Vietnam conflict," it
did shake his confidence in the concept.
Walsh was born to the wealthy and politically influential of
California's power elite.

But it was never his style.

His

parents were, and are, very much stuck in living the "proper"
life.

And, when he married "beneath his station," they disowned

him.

They haven't spoken to him or his wife or seen their

grandchildren since the marriage.
You'd never know he was part of the privileged world of "old
money" California.

As wealthy, powerful, and "class conscious"

as his parents were, Walsh wouldn't be caught dead with a silver
spoon in his mouth.

Maybe a "Silver Bullet."

He liked getting

down and dirty on the spinside of life, which is probably why he
tended to overreact when someone tried to take advantage of their
position in life.

It was almost like once his family cut him

loose, he made them and the rest of their world his enemy.

He

wasn't about to let any of them get away with anything ever
again.

He took special care with any case involving the power

elite.

It was his albatross.

was over-compensating.

In fact, it was almost as if he

He wanted so much to separate himself

Tyranny of the Downbeat

67

from his father's world that he went out looking for any cases
involving the powerful, just to bring the big guy down.

Maybe it

was an indirect, or direct, way to show his father, and attack
what his father represented at the same time.

To offset the

disappointment, the anger, and the hurt he felt when his father
and mother abandoned him.

It cut him deeply that he, who

cherished family and friends, had to disown his own.
He grew up during the Sixties, but he was really a Muskogee
kind of guy when it came to sex, marriage, relationships, and
women.

He spent time, like his hero Merle Haggard, raising cane.

And his family hoped his crops would fail.
experimenting, as many of his peers were.

He was not
He was just living out

what he considered the typical macho college ritual.

Though he

wasn't intimidated then by bright, aggressive women, he wasn't
overly aroused either.

He admired them, as he would a wonderful

watercolor or an intriguing acrylic, but he never took them home
either.

When it was time to settle down, to marry and have a

family, he did and he stayed faithful.

He wasn't interested in

the philandering of his father's generation.

He intended to make

his marriage work.
Now he's got two children, both boys.
he met in college, is several years younger.

His wife, Diane, whom
They've been

married for twelve years now, through good and bad and multiple
moves.

They get along as well as two people in harness can.

They like each other fine when they're alone and away from family
and friends.

When they do fight, it's usually over Pat's

juvenile behavior and heavy drinking, especially when he gets

Tyranny of the Downbeat

68

together with his college buddies, Calvin Michael Gover, a vet in
Sacramento, myself, and George Orona, otherwise known as "Jorge."
Then he gets nostalgic and starts thinking about moving back to
the valley.

That is the only real threat to his marriage.

The

prolonged adolescence that creeps back into his life whenever he
sees "the boys."

None of the current wives or girlfriends really

want to be around then.

It's too embarrassing.

He, and they,

are stranded, caught between the adolescent rock and the middle
aged hard place.
transition.
buddies.

And they're all having a rough time making the

They'd love to remain twenty, partying with their

But they want the career, wife, and the family.

Caught

on the horns.
I guess he, Gover, Jorge, and I really were family.
only family.

We were brothers.

His

He had often said, and it had

been echoed by me, that we would all be friends for life.

That

no matter how far away, or how long we'd been apart, we could get
together and it'd be like we'd never left.
of understanding between us.
expectations.

There was that kind

I said it had to do with

We didn't have any of each other.

If we didn't

have any expectations, we'd never be disappointed in each other,
because that's when the trouble starts.

We accepted the other

for what they were; nothing more, nothing less.

And you were

there for them, whether they needed you or not.

My wife could

never understand that.
advantage of.

She always said I was being taken

I think it was really jealousy, or lack of

understanding, because she never had it with her family or any of
her close friends.

It bothered Diane, too, and Gover's wife

Tyranny of the Downbeat

69

Debbie, but this kind of "male bonding" was never understood by
women, particularly women who had liberated themselves during the
sixties and hoped that some of it had rubbed off on the men they
married.
Like his ancestors and his friends, Pat liked to drink,
though not as much now as he did in college.
like the Irish, could kill.

And his temper,

That's why he made a good FBI agent.

He was a good company man, loyal to the corps.
buddies.

And loyal to his

And that's what usually got him into trouble.

another thing about him.

That was

He was persistent, diligent, and dogged

in his determination, once he was on the scent.
until he'd been beaten senseless.

He never quit,

He worked hard to be good at

what he did and to earn the respect of his peers and superiors.
Pat acted and reacted.

He was not one to ponder and consider.

Once given an assignment, he'd ride it out.

And, sometimes, he'd

ignore his superiors, and stay on a case until he was satisfied
it was complete.

If it had to be done, he was the best one to do

it.
Walsh could be melancholic, sullen.

You could see it in

his face.

It was there right around his eyes and creasing his

forehead.

He always seemed angry, just a word away from

exploding.

And when he went, reason and restraint shut down.

And sometimes, violence could be a close companion.
also be vindictive.

He could

Although it was probably due to his

"Irishness," it was as if Pat had selected every personality
trait that could possibly be objectionable and reprehensible to
the sensibilities and upbringing of his family.

He cultivated

Tyranny of the Downbeat

70

one to alienate the other.
In some ways, "Monte" was a throwback to a simpler time.
Thus the nickname.

When he wanted to relax, he'd pop open a

beer, pick up his guitar, and play a little Merle.
The Hag's world, everything was black and white.
depressing, but you knew exactly where you stood.

At least in
It might be
What sometimes

appeared to be shallowness and lack of imagination was simply a
less complex personal code of conduct.
monochrome.
play.

All things really were

He believed in the cowboy code of justice and fair

In a previous life, he might have been a John Wayne, his

idol, or a Gary Cooper.
affection.

And like them, he wasn't real good at

He'd rather have a tooth pulled than hug someone.

and the kids had softened the edges a little.
about it, but still not real comfortable.

Di

He was better

I doubt he had ever

hugged his old man.
Pat grew up in Berkeley before moving to Davis, California,
while his father worked at the state capital.
school there before enrolling in college.
to be a Doctor of Veterinarian Medicine.

He finished high

He had always planned
He did well enough in

class and as a working intern, but his attitude bothered some
people.

His GPA was acceptable, but not unquestionable.

Everything depended on his letters of recommendation and the
personal interview.

So he decided to enlist the help of some of

his father's more influential friends.

It was a difficult thing

to ask, but he did it; to swallow his pride and ask for help from
his father just this once.
letters.

It was that important.

But something happened.

He got the

Either during the interview or

Tyranny of the Downbeat

because of the letters.

71

Walsh still feels he was screwed because

the screening committee didn't feel like being steamrolled by the
politically powerful.

And he wasn't even sure that maybe his

father hadn't talked to the committee; maybe mentioned in passing
that he thought Pat might have a drinking problem.
wouldn't make a good professional.
rejected.

Cal Gover wasn't.

Whatever the reason, he was

What could have destroyed a close

friendship just seemed to make it stronger.

Pat's pride got him

through it.

And a little Jim Beam.

taken away.

He never got over the disappointment.

talked about it.

That maybe he

His life's goal had been

Just got on with his life.

But he never

First as a

pharmaceutical salesman and then as an agent, thanks to a
disillusioned brother-in-law, a bureau administrator in San
Francisco, who saw himself as a young man.
When Pat first joined The Bureau, he worked as a sound man,
wired to incriminate drug dealers, kidnappers, and child
pornographers.

Then he spent time tracking down Soviet spies and

defectors across Northern California.

Just letting them know we

were watching them watching us.
Just about that time, the war against toxic waste started
heating up.

In California and across the nation.

There were

more and more cases of roadside dumping; and cans and cans of
waste were discovered in abandoned warehouses all over the state.
There were rumors the Mafia was somehow involved.

In California,

the passage of Proposition 65 put the pressure on all public
officials.

The U.S. Department of Justice was forced to begin

taking the issue seriously.

District attorneys and Federal

Tyranny of the Downbeat

72

Bureau of Investigation staffs throughout the country began an
all-out assault on this new form of white-collar crime.
When it came time to select someone to join the Department
of Justice's Toxic Task Force, Pat's name was mentioned early and
often.

His background in bio-chemistry made him a strong

candidate.

And, because he was born and raised in Northern

California, he also knew the territory and the players.

The fact

that he was politically connected didn't hurt, although it was
never discussed in any of the interviews and he didn't bring it
up.

He was appointed Special Agent to the toxic waste

investigation.
Walsh took to his new assignment with a vengeance.
shot at the old man.

Another

He had to be careful because he was going

for the purse strings on this one.

He probed and he pushed.

He

tried hard not to step on the toes of certain politicos and
bureaucrats, because he knew they had the power to stall, or
subvert, the investigation.
about who heard what and how.

He was careful who he reported to;
He knew he was moving far beyond

his original assignment; beyond what they had asked him to
investigate.
In three months, he documented over one hundred violations
of the Clean Water Act and the provisions of Proposition 65.

He

had sufficient evidence to cause some major financial and PR
problems.

And the people on his hit list were some of the same

ones he was worried might stop him.

Corporations like the

DiGiulio Winery, the Marriposa Combine, and several members of
the Westlands League.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

73

Then he took his findings to the Bureau, feeling good about
them and ready to take the next step; certain they would
authorize it.

The next day, his supervisor called him into his

office and told him to stop volunteering information he hadn't
been asked to.

It was like the guy had punched him in the gut,

then slapped him across the face.
It was the first time he'd ever had shit like this pulled on
him.

He'd heard the rumors before.

re-assigned.

And he didn't like it.

Of agents reprimanded and
Someone had pulled in some

cards; had pulled some strings from atop their plush corporate
offices.

Only this time, it wasn't some hick county sheriff or

medical examiner, it was the fucking Bureau that was asking him
how high he'd jump.

This had been his best shot ever at the big

boys and they had turned the tables on him.
He left the office thinking that not even the Bureau was
clean on this one; that even they could be compromised and
couldn't be trusted.
say.

Not then.

They didn't want to hear what he had to

Probably not ever.

Money, bureaucracy, and

politics made it hard to protect the public and tell the truth.
He knew then that it would never come out.
whole truth and nothing but wouldn't be.

Not this story.

The

His naivete was

beginning the education of its life.
He protested.

He wrote a handful of internal memoranda.

talked it up with his fellow agents.

He

He spoke a little too

loudly about it at lunch when he was within earshot of his
superiors.

His wheel was squeaking real loud.

knew, he was off the case and at a desk.

The next thing he

Writing up reports and

Tyranny of the Downbeat

74

following-up on other agent's work.
pissed.

He was crushed.

Then he got

He compared the new assignment to something he knew.

frontier analogy.

A

"It was like riding fence," he later told me.

It was the same as being put out to pasture.

On a working ranch,

when you couldn't cut it anymore, your started riding fence;
repairing broken fence, making sure none of the cattle got out.
It cut a couple of ways.
sure the fence stood.

It was a job, but it was also making

Fence.

carved up the open range.

That's what closed the frontier,

It meant the end of freedom.

He didn't like this idea of checking fence-posts, so he
started thinking about bailing out.

He talked it over with his

brother-in-law, who didn't like the idea, but certainly
understood.

He had been frustrated most of his career and it

wasn't going to get any better until he retired.
and be a maverick.
approval.

Pat could stay

Continue the investigation without agency

But he was finally, really tired of the bullshit

bureaucracy.

It was time to press on.

And he did.

His

brother-in-law put him in touch with a large private
investigation firm in San Francisco, one department of which
specialized in toxic waste violations.
the title.

He got another shot at

Maybe there he could tell what had to be told.

And that was another coincidence that couldn't be ignored.
Pat had taken his new job about two months before Elliot
contacted me.

Our paths were going to cross professionally.

It

would be interesting to see what my old college buddy was like in
real life.
Heading up the beach and back to our cars, I was glad to

Tyranny of the Downbeat

75

know we were still thinking along the same lines.

Like me and

Elliot, his gut told him the Quon incident was somehow tied to
Masterson.

He was also wondering out loud if it wasn't linked to

the death of farmworker twenty years earlier.

That case had been

unsolved and closed for quite a while, but it had come up again
as part of the trail he had been following when he got yanked.
He wanted to finish that one just for the principle of it.

He

didn't think he'd have any trouble getting his new bosses to let
him help us out.

And if they didn't, he'd do it on his own.

It

wasn't like he hadn't been forced to do that before.
That was just about a week ago.

Now he's undercover in

Ralston.

Got himself hired as a field inspector (PCA) for

OxyGene.

He makes the rounds each day selling fertilizer and

herbicides, making sure the growers are using the right chemicals
for their problem and assuring that the chemicals are mixed in
the right amounts and properly applied.
Squatting in the dust, drawing patterns in the dirt, and
talking about next season's crops, he feels right at home.
fits in, drinking RC Cola and eating moon pies.
these people.

He likes and respects them.

a beer at day's end.
of.

He

He understands

He enjoys buying them

He doesn't like seeing them taken advantage

And he doesn't want any of them, or their kids, dying of

cancer or being exposed to poisons that might some day cause it.
He knows his bio-chem and he knows it's all too possible.

Now

that he's seen their faces and talked to them, he's even more
determined to get to the bottom of the Jimmie Quon story and how
it relates to Masterson.

We have an idea or two, but it's up to

Tyranny of the Downbeat

Pat to get the hard evidence--beyond a reasonable doubt.
It's going to be a long, hot summer.

76

Tyranny of the Downbeat

77
CHAPTER 5

"I come before you today with the distressing news that
one of this Nation's most vast and vital resources is in serious
jeopardy. Our ground waters, long considered virtually
pollution-free, are threatened by ruinous contamination. The
problem is national, for potential sources and routes of
contamination may be found wherever people live and work. The
problem is serious, for the intruding contaminants are often
highly toxic, sometimes cancer-causing. The prospect that water
may contain high concentrations of toxic chemical compounds
compels our immediate attention and action. The story of
hazardous wastes and vulnerable groundwaters is just beginning to
be written, but the opening chapter is enough to predict that
this will become the environmental horror story of the
eighties--with aftereffects reaching into the next millennium."
-- Eckhardt C. Beck, Former Assistant Administrator for Water and
Waste Management, U.S. Environmental Protection Agency.
Before the Subcommittee on Environment, Energy, and Natural
Resources, June 25, 1980.
Pope asked me to meet him in the foothills above La Grange
Dam.

He explained it was better to see things first hand.
Carl Pope is a non-fiction author who specializes in

environmental issues.

He writes about the amount and type of

pollution being inflicted on our country by private corporations.
He is also the Sierra Club's national deputy conservation
director.

He's been writing about the groundwater problem for a

number of years.

Now he's about to begin my education.

We stand near several large granite boulders.
feet is a hole between the rocks.

Beneath our

He is explaining.

is an underground storage area for groundwater.
thousands of years for the largest ones to form.

"An aquifer

It's taken
Most aquifers

in North America were formed during the Ice Age's glacial melt.
They can be a few feet, or several thousand feet, below the
surface.
surface."

This one," he points at the hole, "is close to the

Tyranny of the Downbeat

78

"Makes pumping easy," I add, trying to participate.
He smiles but doesn't look up.

"Right.

Water from these

aquifers has been used for years as a source of drinking water.
Then it watered crops.

Then it served industry.

sink a well and start filling buckets with water.
were replaced with electric pumps.
lasted longer.

Anyone could
Hand pumps

Wells went deeper and pumping

People pumped as if there were no tomorrow."

"Figured it was an endless supply?"
"Well, it wasn't.
in common.

There's one thing all these aquifers have

They're disappearing.

Rapidly.

Pumped, or polluted,

out of existence."
"Can't they be replenished.
"Sure.

By rain, or something?"

Aquifers can be recharged, refilled, by rain,

snow-melt, seepage from river bottoms, marshes, and wetlands.
But if any of these sources are contaminated, the groundwater
will become contaminated.

And once it's in the aquifer, it's

there for good."
"Or bad."
His look tells me he doesn't think much of my participation
or humor.

"Undergroundwater doesn't flow too much, or too fast.

So contaminants can be stored undisturbed for thousands of
years."
"For example?"
"In the 1960s, some wells in Ohio started gushing raw
sewage.

Toilet tissue and other junk.

When the local

authorities researched the records, they found that public and
private wastes had been dumped into sinkholes and wells as far

Tyranny of the Downbeat

back as 1872.

79

Almost a hundred years earlier."

the realization showed on my face.

He watched as

Then we both looked down into

the hole.
"How bad is the groundwater problem?"
"Only one percent of America's groundwater is now known to
be contaminated.

But man is threatening vital groundwater

supplies in many regions of the country."
"Could you briefly explain the strict, scientific meaning of
contaminate?"
"It has two common meanings.
by intrusion from outside.

One, to reduce native purity

And, two, to make unfit, or

unwholesome, by the introduction of outside elements."
"When did groundwater pollution first emerge as a public
issue?"
"In the late 1970s, mostly associated with the disposal of
manufacturing wastes."
"When did incidents related to pesticides first appear?"
"By the early 1980s, several instances of contamination,
resulting from the field application of pesticides, had been
confirmed."
"And what pesticides were those?"
"The most widespread problems involved the insecticides and
nematocides aldicarb, brand name Temik and DBCP,
dibromochloropropane.
other pesticides.

Early findings led to monitoring for

Several additional active ingredients were

detected in at least a dozen states."
"Were you at all surprised by the findings?"

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80

"Contamination from field-applied pesticides was almost
entirely unexpected.

Particularly since the pesticides found

included ones we generally assumed would degrade or volatilize
rapidly."
"In lay terms, can you tell us a little about some of the
high risk contaminants?"
"One class of agricultural chemicals, the nematocides, poses
a particularly high risk for groundwater contamination."
"What do nematocides protect against?"
"Nematodes, or worms.

Like the hookworm or pinworm."

"How do they work?"
"Nematocides are designed to be mobile in the soil and water
environment to protect the root zone.
problems occur.

That's where the pest

The most severe nematode problems occur in

sandy, porous soils.

Soils with low water-holding capacity."

"Which makes it easier to leach into groundwater."
""Unfortunately, yes.

The nematocide DBCP has caused the

most extensive contamination documented to date.

Others, like

EDB, D-D, and aldicarb have also leached into the
groundwater."
"I thought the earth could filter out some of it?"
"For decades, that was widely believed.

Experts thought the

soil would bind chemicals and cleanse water as it percolated
through.

Now, we're finding that soil is not effective in

filtering viruses and organic materials."
"What's the best way to control the contamination?"
"Stop using the chemicals."

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81

"Seriously?"
"Yes, but not realistically.
of the best management practices.

So, we've recommended a series
We call them BMPs."

"Which includes?"
"Closely following label instructions.
calibrating spray equipment.

Carefully

Efficiently scheduling irrigation.

Optimizing timing of pesticide applications.
patterns.

Altering crop

And properly disposing of tank rinse water or residual

pesticide solutions and containers."
"What do the growers think of these 'BMPs?'"
"Seriously?"
"Realistically."
"They consider them important because we do.

But we suspect

that they're ignoring the recommendations on the labels."
"Why?"
"Because they don't want to take the time."
"Or because the people doing the spraying can't read the
labels?"
"That's a problem.

Besides, most growers are skeptical

about just how effective the BMPs are.

We think a lot of them

simply disregard our suggestions."
"Even though they know it's unsafe?"
"Sure.

Their life depends on crop yield.

And they're going

to get more crops in a stress-free growing environment."
"There must be other reasons?"
"Of course.

There's no economic incentive."

"Down to dollars?

Is there any way to punish growers for

Tyranny of the Downbeat

82

misuse?"
"They might have their permits canceled.

The permits that

allow them to apply agricultural chemicals."
"Would that stop them?"
"No, they'd probably spray anyway."
"Let's change our focus a moment.
chemicals, but they don't make them.

The farmers may use these
Let's get to the source.

Who are the major manufacturers and what responsibility must they
assume?"
"Dow, of course.

And Union Carbide.

Internationally,

OxyGene is probably the world's largest manufacturer of
agricultural chemicals."
"They're a Swiss company aren't they?"
"Based in Switzerland, but German-founded and owned.

They

have offices around the world, but with a concentration in
countries that depend financially or economically on
agriculture."
"Third world countries and the U.S.?"
"Especially South America and California."
"What do they make?"
"OxyGene's AgriChem Division manufactures carbofuran.

It's

a widely used carbamate insecticide and nematocide that's been
detected in groundwater.

They also make three herbicides.

Atrazine, simazine, and metolachlor."
"What's their company line on groundwater contamination?"
"Representatives have stated that the detection of pesticide
residues in groundwater doesn't necessarily constitute

Tyranny of the Downbeat

83

contamination."
"Sounds like corporate double-talk.

It's there, but it's

not."
"It's their view that detectable levels of certain
chemicals in water doesn't necessarily mean that the water is
contaminated.

That it's not potable."

"Drinkable?"
"They point out that acceptable residue levels for
pesticides in food have been established by the federal
government.

So they ask why such levels can't be established for

pesticide residues in water."
"So, if the concentration isn't strong enough to kill you
outright it's okay?

Even though it's been proven that the

chemicals will stay in the body until they do kill you.

So,

they're basically washing their hands of responsibility then?"
"Not entirely.
Bhopal.

None of the companies have forgotten about

They are aware of corporate liability."

"To the tune of 2500 dead, 40,000 injured, and 6 million
dollars in damages."
"They are trying to become more aware of the environmental
factors that could help transport their products into the ground
water."
"So, they're beginning to regulate themselves, as long as
it's cost-effective?"
"You see, part of the problem here, as usual, is a legal
one.

It's hard to believe, but the law assumes you have the

right to pollute if you can show some benefit."

Tyranny of the Downbeat

84

"Let's talk about that for a moment.
liability.

Litigation and

You've said that most major aquifers have taken

thousands of years to form.

And that the undergroundwater in

those aquifers doesn't flow too swiftly or too far.

Which makes

them vulnerable to permanent contamination; from a variety of
sources.

How long might it be before the contamination is

discovered?"
"It may not be recognized until decades later.

Contamination

may have been caused by industrial dumping several decades
earlier and many miles away.

By the time the contamination was

discovered, the offending source may have disappeared, and the
geology and hydrologic patterns in the immediate area may have
changed."
"What about assessing responsibility for polluting ground
water?"
"In the past, the only way the government could no anything
about groundwater contamination was to take court action or use
superfund monies.

But suing companies for polluting aquifers

twenty, or even thirty years ago, was difficult and expensive.
Extensive and costly geologic and hydrologic studies had to be
conducted.

The cost of proving that X corporation caused Y

pollution could easily run into hundreds of thousands of dollars.
Establishing proximate cause was often very difficult."
"And the slow movement of the water made locating the source
of contamination, beyond a reasonable doubt, extremely difficult,
if not impossible?"
"Difficult, but not impossible."

Tyranny of the Downbeat

85

DISSOLVE:
MUSIC CHANGE: UP FULL THEN UNDER
THEME #6: "White Line Fever"
26

EXT. SAN JOAQUIN VALLEY - ESTABLISHING SHOT

AERIAL SHOT.
the valley.

Time-lapse photography speeds us along the spine of
JOAN DIDION (V.O.)
When you say "the Valley" in Los Angeles,
most people assume that you mean the San
Fernando Valley. Some people actually assume
you mean Warner Brothers. But make no
mistake, we are talking not about the valley
of the sound stages and the ranchettes, but
about the real Valley. The Central Valley.
The fifty thousand square miles drained by
the Sacramento and the San Joaquin Rivers and
further irrigated by a complex network of
sloughs, cutoffs, and ditches. The DeltaMendota and Friant-Kern Canals.

MUSIC:
27

UP FULL THEN UNDER

MEDIUM SHOT

GROUND LEVEL of flat, two-lane blacktop. There are mirages
in the distance. Heat simmers on the surface.
Robert Penn Warren was writing about another
place, but he described this one as well when
he wrote: "You look up the highway and it is
straight for miles, coming at you, with the
black line down the center coming at you and
at you. . . and the heat dazzles up from the
white slab so that only the black line is
clear, coming at you with the whine of the
tires, and if you don't quit staring at that
line and don't take a few deep breaths and
slap yourself hard on the back of the neck
you'll hypnotize yourself."
HOLD LONG SHOT.
Over rise in road you can see someone slowly come into view.
is JOAN DIDION.
JOAN DIDION

It

Tyranny of the Downbeat
The landscape it runs through never, to the
untrained eye, varies. It gets hot here. So
hot that August comes on not like a month,
but like an affliction. All day long, all
that moves is the sun and the big Rainbird
sprinklers.
DISSOLVE
28

MONTAGE

Shots of Central Valley towns.
DIDION (V.O.)
To a stranger driving highway 99 in airconditioned isolation, these towns must seem
so flat, so impoverished, as to drain the
imagination. They hint at evenings spent
hanging around gas stations, and suicide
pacts sealed in drive-ins.
CONTINUE MONTAGE.
There is something in the Valley mind that
reflects a real indifference to the mobile
stranger. A failure to perceive even his
presence, let alone his thoughts or wants.
An implacable insularity is the seal of these
towns.
CONTINUE MONTAGE.
They think alike and they look alike. I can
tell Ralston from Mendota only because I have
visited there, gone to dances there.
Besides, there is over the main street of
Ralston, an arched sign which reads: 'WHERE
THE LAND OWNS THE WATER'. There is no such
sign in Mendota.
MUSIC:

UP FULL THEN OUT

MUSIC CHANGE: UP FULL THEN UNDER
THEME #7: "White Winds"
29

MONTAGE

Shots showing current uses of groundwater.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Groundwater is one of America's most valuable
and plentiful natural resources. We drink,
bathe in, grow and cook our food with this

86

Tyranny of the Downbeat

87

liquid. It's absolutely essential to life
and to our agricultural and economic
sustenance.
CONTINUE MONTAGE.
Groundwater makes up 96 percent of our total
freshwater resource. Underground aquifers
supply drinking water for 117 million
Americans. About half the population.
Nearly 95 percent of the nation's rural
population depends on well water. 34 major
cities rely entirely on groundwater. Wells
also supply water for food processing,
irrigation, livestock, and industry.
30

MONTAGE

Shots of contamination.
material.

Open ponds, leaking barrels of toxic

Just when our reliance on groundwater for
pure drinking water and other economic
activities is increasing, so is its
contamination. At a distressing rate. Clean
groundwater is being seriously threatened by
overuse, indiscriminate dumping of hazardous
wastes, improper disposal, and the use of
toxic degreasing agents in septic tanks.
31

EXT. VALLEY - MEDIUM SHOT

MARC REISNER stands in the middle of a grassy meadow.
MARC REISNER
In the late 1800s, most of the San Joaquin
Valley was still a vista of wild blond
grassland and wheat.
DISSOLVE:
32

MONTAGE

B&W historical stills depicting growth of California agriculture,
including early irrigation, Central Valley Project, and
California Water Project.
A few parts of the valley had been privately
reclaimed by farmers and irrigation districts
rich enough to build small dams. Before the
federal government got into the business of
building dams, these farmers used groundwater
for irrigation.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

CONTINUE MONTAGE.
Then came cheap oil, electricity, and the
motorized centrifugal pump. The farmers
began pumping in the finest California
tradition. Which is to say, as if tomorrow
would never come.
CONTINUE MONTAGE.
End with shots of Central Valley Project
under construction. The farmers pumped it
out so relentlessly that by the 1930s, the
state's biggest industry was threatened with
collapse. The growers had such a
stranglehold on the legislature that they
convinced it, in the depths of the
Depression, to authorize a huge water
project--by far the largest in the world--to
rescue them from their own greed.
CONTINUE MONTAGE.
Shots of finished CVP.
Today, the Central Valley Project is still
the most mind-boggling public works project
on five continents.
CONTINUE MONTAGE.
Shots of State Water Project under construction.
In the 1960s, the state built its own
project, which was nearly as large.
33

EXT. FARMLAND

Shots of land irrigated by groundwater pumped from underground
wells.
The projects brought into production far more
land than they had water to supply. So the
growers had to supplement their surface water
with tens of thousands of wells. As a
result, groundwater overdraft, instead of
getting better, got worse.
34

EXT. SIGN - MEDIUM CLOSE UP

88

Tyranny of the Downbeat
California Water Project sign on DeltaMendota canal. Farmers could get more money
by irrigating new land, so they did. And
they took the water from wherever they could
get it. Out of the ground, or out of canals.
35

EXT. - MEDIUM CLOSE UP

Pump pumps groundwater into irrigation ditches.
And there doesn't seem to be any end in
sight. In California, there's absolutely no
regulation over groundwater pumping. And it
doesn't look like there will be any for many
years to come. The farmers dislike the idea.
And, in California, "the farmers" are the
likes of Exxon, Tenneco, and Getty Oil.
36

MONTAGE

Shots of small and large farms in the Central Valley.
The way the landlocked groundwater farmers
see it, they're competing with amply supplied
neighbors. State attempts to regulate
groundwater bring out farmers bearing
pitchforks. The growers say regulation or
changing crops is not the answer. More dams
are. Once they get subsidized water, the
pumpers say they will lay off the aquifer.
But until then, don't expect any changes in
their pumping habits.
CONTINUE MONTAGE.
Some of the smaller farmers, especially those
without a reliable source of water from dams
or groundwater, would like to see a sharing
of the wealth. But changing water rights
laws to accomplish that would drastically
alter the distribution of wealth in
California society. And that won't happen
without a fight.
37

EXT. PUMPING WATER

Shots of water being pumped into fields lying near the delta.
The pumping of groundwater can't go on for
much longer. First of all, the water is
running out. Already some Valley wells near
the Delta yield salt water.

89

Tyranny of the Downbeat
38

EXT. GROUND - CLOSE UP

Shots of ground caving in.
And, on the west side of the Central Valley,
there are holes in the ground. Places where
the ground has caved in. One is 28 feet
deep. All the groundwater below it has been
pumped out. It's gone. You can't pump it
back in. The earth settles. And it simply
slumps.
39

ANIMATION

Computer-generated imagery sequence showing salt-water intrusion.
What's worse is that the valley's ancient
saltwater aquifer could eventually spread.
Fresh-water aquifers serve as buffers against
salty water. If the fresh-water aquifer is
reduced by overdrafting, the salt water will
fill the partial vacuum. The remaining fresh
water will become more saline, until it's
made undrinkable by humans and useless for
agriculture.
40

EXT. - EXTREME CLOSE UP OF PUMPS.
Finally, energy is running out. It doesn't
take much electricity to pump water from 35
feet. But 140 feet is a different story. So
the farmers just drill deeper, pay for more
electricity, and make up the difference when
they sell the water-intensive, cash-intensive
crop.

41

MONTAGE

Shots of fresh water pouring out of taps for various
personal and business uses.
The groundwater being pumped and polluted is
as nonrenewable as oil. And yet, the same
fresh water supply we rely on, is facing a
triple threat that we, in our avarice and
short-sightedness have created. Salt,
Overdraft, and Pollution.
MUSIC:

UP FULL THEN OUT

BREAK POINT IN DOCUMENTARY

90

Tyranny of the Downbeat

91

At what was once the main entrance, there is a large wooden
sign, very much like the thousands of other signs that mark state
and national parks.

But there's something unusual about the sign

and this place.

The white sideboard ranger's station is empty

and boarded up.

There are shotgun and .22 holes peppering its

facade; the object of bored target practice.
padlocked with a huge, forged steel chain.
been stripped.

The main gate is
The sign itself has

Like the uniform of a soldier who's been

court-martialed; stripped of rank.

Like his uniform, the sign

shows sun and weather-faded outlines of insignias, for the state,
the BuRec, and the Department of Interior, that have been
removed.

Though the letters have been taken away, the name is

still indelibly stained into the wood by the weather.
letters say:

The

"Welcome to the Masterson Wildlife Refuge."

A square blue and white sign, standing near the gate,
features a drawing of a duck in full, spread-winged flight.
also displays a warning.

It

"Unauthorized Entry Prohibited."

Behind it, the swamp grass stretches away to an ominously low
horizon.

There will be a surprise summer's storm today.

The intense sunlight reflects off the shallow water.

The

golden light scatters across the shallow water, tranquil and
serene, the lily pads, and the marsh grass, then glances off the
vermilion greens of the few ducks flying across the dusky sky.
This was once a thousand-acre refuge.

It is now only cattail

marshes, bulrushes, and reeds.
Behind me, the light silhouettes the coast range in the
telephoto distance, hiding behind shimmering heat waves.

The

Tyranny of the Downbeat

92

grasslands of the flat valley wave lightly in the wake of a
summer's breeze.

A big rig cuts through the middle of the scene,

highballing it from Fresno to San Francisco.
There was a time when you could witness the cycle of life
here.

Migrating down the American flyway, mallard, gadwall, and

pintail ducks used to blacken the winter's sky.
shorebirds also wintered here.

Avocets and

But the children of the future

will never see it again.
In the summer it's quiet here.

In the winter, it's eerie.

Through the thick tule fog, two single headlights cut a path.
The riders on each ATV work for the Fish and Wildlife Service.
They dismount and slowly slide a boat out into the waters.

The

muted colors and the long shot of them sitting in their boat,
reminds one of a Turner or Vermeer.

As they sit, in the moist

cottony quiet, something suddenly blasts out of one of their
hands, trailing fire through the mist.

The spiraling black smoke

traces the trajectory of the hand rocket.
Along the bank, there are more of them.

They wear brown

coats and brown hats, drab and colorless as the winter's ground
surrounding the refuge.

Some wear surgeon's masks, to block out

the stench they say, but they're really thinking it'll probably
protect them from the poison.
block out the noise.

Some wear airline headphones to

They all carry weapons.

Some stand near

FWS pickup trucks, others near squat amphibious vehicles.
One slowly cleans the barrel, plunging the ramrod in and
out.

He drops in a red-encased cartridge, snaps it shut.

Holding it low against the inside of his elbow, he levels and

Tyranny of the Downbeat

fires.

93

It skips across the surface once--an ordnance

flatrock--then it dives below the surface.
imploding in a plume of water.
straggles into the sky.

It explodes,

A flock of startled coots

He breaks open the barrel, discards the

cartridge, and loads another.

A second protector holds something

that looks like a handgun. It's smaller.

What looks like a

"Whistling Pete" protrudes from the barrel.

And when it's fired,

that's what it sounds like.
These men are trying to save the wildlife by scaring it away.
And I've traveled to this stink hole to see what
smells and why.
A few years ago, some of the duck hunters around Masterson began
talking to some university biologists about a change in the birds.
Many seemed sick.
drowned.

So weak they couldn't float.

So weak they simply

The hunters thought the birds were being killed by field

runoff filled with fertilizers and pesticides.

The farmers and the

farm lobby told them to stick it up their collective asses.
biologists found out what it was.

Then the

It was selenium, a trace mineral

that can be toxic in small doses.
There's a lot of selenium concentrated in the soil of the
southern Coast Range.

It's washed down from the edges of the

valley by rain and irrigation.

The water can't percolate through

the layer of clay below the soil, so it sits there, like water in
a giant bath tub.
the selenium.

The selenium stays in solution.

Fish and waterfowl eat the algae.

people eat the fish and birds.

The algae eat
Then, maybe,

At each step in the food chain,

the selenium concentration multiplies.

Up to 50 or 100 times.

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94

And the more concentrated, the more lethal.
The battle between the hunters--backed strangely enough by
the environmentalists--and the farmers--backed by the water and
petro-chemical lobbies--raged for a while.

Then it died down.

Then the birds at Masterson stopped spawning.

And the ones that

did had dead or deformed chicks.
The scientist wades in thigh-high hip boots, slogging
through a swampy layer of algae and decomposed debris that floats
on the surface.

As he moves, the mucilaginous material swirls

and congeals around his legs, revealing the brackish water below.
He stops and reaches down.

His gloved hand gingerly picks up,

then holds up, a young duck, limply dead.

Its eyes are gone.

He

adds it to his collection of gross deformities, missing wings,
misshapen beaks, and swollen heads.
Selenium sparked the controversy.
Masterson closely for the first time.
the more they found.

It got people to look at
The closer they looked,

Over-irrigating was bad enough.

precious water and flushed selenium out of the soil.
west side farmers were also misusing chemicals.
pesticides, and herbicides.

It wasted
But the

Fertilizers,

They were polluting the wetlands

with more than salt and selenium.

The worst offenders seemed to

be the farmers growing cotton and wine grapes.
During irrigation, as water flows from field to field, it
picks ups salts, herbicides, pesticides; whatever's in the soil.
The plants absorb the water and leave the rest.

And when it gets

real hot--and it does in the valley--the good water goes up, the
bad goes down.

It collects on the layer of clay.

It then

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95

becomes what hydrologists call, "perched water."
that goes down, the more concentrated it becomes.
farmers irrigate, it starts to rise.
the higher it rises.

The more
Then, as the

And the more they irrigate,

If it's not drained off, it eventually

reaches the plant roots.

By then, the salts and poisons are so

concentrated it kills the plant.
Here and there, across the valley, the bad water has reached
the surface, killing every living thing.
ground.

No plants.

Not even weeds.

dusted with what looks like snow.
white.

It's salt.

All that's left is bare

Just bare ground newly

Thousands of acres, chalky

Bleached ground beneath a bleached sky.

It's

nature's way.
The west side farming combines tried to ease the dual
problem of selenium and pesticide contamination by draining the
bad water off their fields and into a larger drain called the
Tranquility Canal.
Torrenting out of the drainage pipe is a cascading waterfall
of rusty smelling, dirty looking water.

As it drops into the

runoff canal, it looks like the inside of a washing machine in
mid-cycle.

Billowing piles of white, fluffy, agitated, "sudsy"

water collects on the surface.
The drain was built to carry the bad water out of the valley
and eventually into the San Francisco Bay.
...

Out of sight and,

Well, you know the rest of that saying.
But there's a few problems.

canal's not done.

Major problems.

First, the

Instead, it dead-ends into Masterson, turning

the refuge into a giant evaporation pond for the ag runoff.

And

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what is done leaks.
down.

96

Over half of the drain water percolates

And on this trip, there's no clay to stop it.

into the fresh water aquifer lying directly below.

So it seeps
The aquifer

that just happens to supply fresh drinking water for most of the
San Joaquin Valley.
So until the holes are plugged and the canal's completed,
the drain water is simply dumped into a man-made swamp.

A swamp

named Masterson.
And Masterson isn't an isolated case.
trying to do it again.

The factory farms are

This time in the Tulare Lake basin.

They've built huge ponds for collecting and evaporating
mineral-laden water from underground drains.
The west side farmers don't want to hear it, but the fact is
that a lot of their land just shouldn't be irrigated because of
the selenium and the salt.

The costs and the risks are far

greater than any possible benefits realized from cultivating that
land.

And there will be more--costs and risks--when it comes

time to fund the clean-up.
So far, the recommendations proposed, according to one
expert, "are too costly to be economically feasible, too
dangerous, or too politically, socially, or environmentally
unacceptable."
The director of the Bureau of Reclamation, the agency in
charge of cleaning up Masterson, has been asked about the
possibility they may build a drain running from the valley to
Point Pinos near the Monterey Coast.

The BuRec has already

purchased the land along the right of way.

The director denies

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97

it, adding, "We've considered it among other alternatives."
Another option, the so-called "Wetflex" plan, recommends
flooding Masterson with clean water.

The experts think they can

immobilize the selenium with fresh, non-seleniferous water.
Still another has scientists introducing microbes into the
soil that supposedly can metabolize the selenium.
The latest recommends removal of the poisonous soils.

They

want to bulldoze the top six inches and dump it into a
plastic-lined, forty-five acre landfill.

It's estimated that

such a procedure will cost over 25 million dollars.
The Westlands League initiated the Murrieta Selenium Removal
Project with funds from their members.

They embarked on a 6.6

million dollar pilot plan and placed another 5 million in a trust
fund to deal with the problem in the future.

And they want to be

congratulated for taking the lead in cleaning up a problem that,
if they didn't start it, they certainly aggravated it.
It's predicted that water managers and agriculture managers
will still be dealing with the pollution and drainage problems
one hundred years from now.

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98

CHAPTER 6
From shadows and symbols into the truth.
-- John Henry, Cardinal Newman
As darkness gives way to light,
so confusion precedes clarity.
The responsibility of today's
communicators is clear.
To peer deeply into the
shadows. To explain the symbols.
And so illuminate the truth.
-- Westinghouse Broadcasting Company, Inc.
The Calafia Institute is located in San Mateo County, along
Skyline Boulevard, in the hills above Redwood City, skirting property
owned by Stanford University.

Its roughened redwood buildings are

scattered among groves of pine, redwood, and eucalyptus, with views
of the entire San Francisco peninsula to the east and, on clear days,
the Pacific Ocean to the west.

It is a "think tank," one of the

newest and most controversial in the nation.

The Institute, like the

state, was named for the Amazon queen who ruled a mythical treasure
island sought by the Spanish.

The Institute was dedicated to

defining the state--and state of mind--known as California.

It was

also the site of one of five regional supercomputer centers
established in 1985 by the National Science Foundation.

The driver

for this engine of change was a four-processor Cray -MP/48
supercomputer.
One group at the Institute, the Water Sciences Division, had
done a great deal of research on pesticides and groundwater
contamination.

It had performed analytical work to identify water

contaminants and modeling studies of the fate and movement of

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chemicals in water.

99

Another division, the AgriChemical Center, had

conducted market research and business studies of pesticide use in
agriculture.
well known.

The activities of yet another entity are a little less
The division known as "The Third Wave."

Because the human brain is exquisitely adept at picking up
visual clues, the founders of The Institute recognized early on the
benefits to be gained from computer-aided insights.

They knew that

scientists, finding themselves lost in a maze of data, were suddenly
realizing, "I can compute more than I can comprehend."

The Institute

decided to capitalize on an innovative way to show them the road to
comprehension.

They determined to turn their numbers into images.

That's when they established The Wave.

John Whitney, Senior, a

pioneer in synthetic imaging, founded the division and managed it
until just before his death.

Several years later his son, John

Whitney, Junior, was recruited to continue his work.
During the past few years, The Wave had been very successful at
obtaining grants and funding for a wide variety of projects.

Though

it remained a profit center, the simulator division was no longer
relied upon to generate most of the revenue for the entire operation.
As a result, The Institute embarked in a new direction to explore new
territories.

Dismayed by political, cultural, and societal

developments around the world, they decided to concentrate on the
future; to use their skills and technology to prophesize the future;
to create possible scenarios and design strategies to predict those
trends.

Though they were considered futurists, they preferred to

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100

call themselves "imagineers," and dubbed what they did
"imagineering."
of mind.

Mystics had always claimed that reality is a state

The Imagineers intended to make it a state of the art.

John Whitney, Jr., later wrote that the best way to understand
their work was to recall "The Simile of the Cave," in which Plato
discussed the concepts of Belief and Illusion with his pupil Glaucon.
Whitney could best correlate the simile by substituting the cinema
for the cave.
Plato began with the moral and intellectual condition of the
average man.

Though he made it clear that the ordinary man knows the

difference between substance and shadow in the physical world, his
simile suggests that man's moral and intellectual opinions often bear
as little resemblance to the truth as the average film does to real
life.

Plato wrote:
"I want you to go on to picture the enlightenment or ignorance
of our human conditions somewhat as follows.

Imagine an underground

chamber, like a cave with an entrance open to the daylight and
running a long way underground.

In this chamber are men who have

been prisoners there since they were children, their legs and necks
being so fastened that they can only look straight ahead of them and
cannot turn their heads.

Behind them and above them a fire is

burning, and between the fire and the prisoners runs a road, in front
of which a curtain-wall has been built, like the screen at puppet

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101

shows between the operators and their audience, above which they show
their puppets."
"I see."
"Imagine further that there are men carrying all sorts of gear
along behind the curtain-wall, including figures of men and animals
made of wood and stone and other materials, and that some of these
men, as is natural, are talking and some not."
"An odd picture and an odd sort of prisoner."
"They are drawn from life," I replied.

"For, tell me, do you

think our prisoners could see anything of themselves or their fellows
except the shadows thrown by the fire on the wall of the cave
opposite them?"
"How could they see anything else if they were prevented from
moving their heads all their lives?"
"And would they see anything more of the objects carried along
the road?"
"Of course not."
"Then if they were able to talk to each other, would they not
assume that the shadows they saw were real things?"
"Inevitably."
"And if the wall of their prison opposite them reflected sound,
don't you think that they would suppose, whenever one of the passersby on the road spoke, that the voice belonged to the shadow passing
before them?"
"They would be bound to think so."

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102

"And so they would believe that the shadows of the objects we
mentioned were in all respects real."
"Yes, inevitably."

That was the task of the imagineers.

To predict the substance

by projecting the shadows.
Where they work, the inner sanctum, is called The Bunker,
because it's located below ground, in a light and temperature
sensitive environment.

It's not unlike the hi-tech labs used to

manufacture silicon chips.
not a speck of dust.

In this controlled environment, there is

The occupants must shower and put on sanitized

uniforms before entering.

The uniforms also mask their identity.

The director doesn't want to risk loss of data through contamination
or conspiracy.
All that is known, and that only through personnel records,
purchase orders, and equipment requisitions, is the type of people
and hardware that occupy this electronic bunker.

They are mostly

electrical engineers, computer programmers, and simulation experts.
Many had once worked in the Silicon Valley, for technology and
defense contractors like Lockheed, GTE/Lenkurt, Singer, and General
Dynamics.

Some had pioneered new technologies while working on the

various planetary flybys monitored at the Jet Propulsion Lab and the
California Institute of Technology.

Some had come from the world of

advertising and broadcast television, having worked for computer
imaging companies like Evans and Sutherland, Robert Abel and

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103

Associates, Cranston/Csuri, Information International, Inc., Pacific
Data Images, Magi/Synthavision, and Industrial Light and Magic.

It

was a who's who of the best in synthetic imaging and simulation;
"renaissance teams" of scientists, artists, and computer
professionals dabbling in the realms of hyper-reality and artificial
intelligence.

Their equipment included high-speed computers and

imaging devices by manufacturers such as Link, Singer, Pixar,
Cubicomp, Wave Technologies, and Aurora.
Hero and guru to many inside The Wave was teacher and
philosopher Herbert Zettl.

His ruminations on "the eternity of the

moment," the power of the simultaneous experience of the event,
inspired these conjurers.
Some of the unrepentant Woodstock degenerates working there
liked to get stoned and enjoy some of their own hot-rodded programs
of music and image.

They said it was better than the movie "Altered

States."
In the quiet bustle of number crunching, these mathematicians
plotted complex equations on computer-graphics terminals, while the
Cray translated numbers and symbols into form and color.

They worked

at both the microscopic and telescopic; the atom and the universe.
To sketch the shape of the future, the imagineers relied on image
processing software developed by Benoit B. Mandelbrot at IBM's Thomas
J. Watson Research Center in Yorktown Heights, New York.

Known as

"fractal geometry," or "fractals"--short for "fractional dimension
analysis"--derived from the Latin adjective "fractus," meaning

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104

irregular or fragmented, they were geometric objects, points, planes,
and cubes.

Their intricate organic shapes modeled nature's complex

forms and processes.

A designer could mimic any natural event by

blending in fractals to bridge the chasm between order and chaos.
The imagineers spent much of their time dabbling with
"artificial reality."

Because the cost of computers had plummeted

and the quality of high-definition video displays and digital audio
had skyrocketed, the imaging devices created and manipulated here
were quite realistic; quite capable of creating a "real-time"
interactive environment and placing the participant inside it.
The Wave had designed the original simulator for the space
shuttle and a number of other "reality environments" for the jets,
bombers, and tanks that were far too expensive to lose if a trainee
screwed up.

They had designed and fabricated entertainment

environments for EPCOT, the French Disneyland, and entertainment
complexes for resorts from Cancun to Kona, Tokyo to Rio.

They had

also created excitingly complex special effects for feature films.
A regular customer was Elliot Lincoln.

In fact, one

particularly powerful piece of equipment in regular use had been
funded and designed by Elliot's own staff of engineers.

"Fractus"

was able to produce high-resolution, three-dimensional color pictures
two hundred times faster than the advanced minicomputers previously
used.
One of their most successful magic lanterns was something called
the "Virtual Environment Workstation."

Co-developed with NASA, this

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105

twelve-pound helmet resembled a white Bell motorcycle helmet with a
flat, bolted plate in front of the eyes.

It completely enveloped the

head, covering both ears with stereo speakers and both eyes with
flat, 3-D, high-resolution (HDTV) screens.

Sensors embedded within

the helmet detected which way the image within the environment was
moving and then automatically, and instantaneously, changed the aural
and visual perspective of the percipient to match.

The helmets were

used primarily during early training sessions for Skylab astronauts
to replicate space walks and exterior repair work.

The engineers

also experimented with applications in other experiences and
disciplines dependent exclusively on sight and sound, like air
traffic control situations.
The Wave had also created true interactive simulations for
hospitals, police forces, and the army; to re-create crisis
situations.

When attached to touch-screens or any type of outboard

device, whether a gun shooting laser beam bullets or a plastic human
body, police officers could be put in the middle of a robbery, or a
physician could learn what it was like to lose a patient dying from a
shotgun wound.

In addition to imaging devices and environments, The

Wave had applied their skills and technology to designing
sophisticated computerized editing systems for audio and video.

A

logical spin-off that generated additional revenue.
All work at The Institute was closely-guarded; most it
classified, some even top-secret.
and required a security clearance.

Access to all areas was restricted
But everything within The Wave

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106

was absolutely confidential.

Only those doing the work knew the

nature of it and even then they often knew only bits and pieces.
Just the key executive officers of The Institute were privy to
everything.

Because, in this case, a little knowledge could be both

dangerous and lucrative.

It could even change the world.

The imagineers at The Institute had been laboring over one
particular simulation for several weeks.

They had been contracted by

the state Assembly Office of Research to visualize some of the trends
described in their report:

"California 2000:

Paradise in Peril."

But the managers of the imaging division asked their people to read
between the lines.

To extrapolate.

To imagine some "worse-case

scenarios."
GRAPHIC DESIGN AND LAYOUT WILL CLEARLY IDENTIFY THIS SECTION AS A
SCENARIO DESIGNED BY THE INSTITUTE. IT MAY BE DESIGNED AS STORYBOARD
OR COMIC BOOK PANELS.
The slate fills the screen.
of information is completed.
SCENARIO:

#880603

CLIENT:

INTERNAL

ENGINEER:

D. MACRITCHIE

STATUS:

IN-PROGRESS

CLASSIFICATION:

PRIORITY

DATE:

06/03/88

TRT:

TBD

With each key click, another line

Tyranny of the Downbeat
WORKING TITLE:

107

"THE FLATLANDER"

WHEN:

Sometime in the not too distant future.

WHERE:

Somewhere in California's Central Valley.

LOCATIONS/PLACE NAMES:
The Flatlands--The endlessly flat, dry remains of what was
once the world's most fertile agricultural valley.

Now it is a land

inhabited by dust devils, concrete and blacktopped roads leading
nowhere, ceaseless expanses of chalky white,
salt-encrusted earth, empty canals, dry riverbeds, and the
skeletal remains of once great cities.

These are The Flatlands, the

heartland of the late, great state of mind once known as California.
Watertown--A small town in the heart of the Flatlands.

On

either side of the main road into town are the remains of an
archway, an "iron rainbow," that once spanned the road.
half, they now bookend the road in their disrepair.

To the left,

half buried in sand, the sign reads, "Where the Land".
right, the remainder reads, "Owns the Water."
of a hollow dream.

Split in

To the

A broken reminder

It is here that The Flatlander was born and

raised.
The City--The city that was once San Francisco.

It is

now the only trading port on the West Coast, shipping food,
supplies, and people to the rest of the planet.

The City is

controlled by The Vigilantes.
The Big One--A series of cataclysmic events that occurred
simultaneously.

Several years of continuous drought, brought

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108

about by movement of the polar icepack, the phenomenon known as
"El Nino," combined with a series of natural disasters,
including a string of small earthquakes, and a number of
environmental anomalies created by man--including acid rain,
ground water contamination, and the "Greenhouse Effect"-precipitated an incredible rebellion by Mother Earth, almost as
if she, like a snake, were shedding her dead skin.

A massive and

devastating earthquake sheared off parts of California and
Florida, opening up huge chasms and canyons in the Earth's
surface.

Dead rivers suddenly flooded their banks, destroying

everything in their path, before they simply dried up again.
Plants and trees shriveled and died.
was no water.

The rains stopped.

Without water, there was no food.

There

And then there

was famine and disease.
Water Districts--After The Big One, all centralized
government broke down.

What government remained was divided into

small water districts.

In a time when the source of power

derived from the control of water, the seat of government resided
in a loose collection of water districts, carved out of what was
once the United States of America.

Ruling each is a Territorial

Chairman.
Boom Town--A mining town located in The Foothills that rim
The Flatlands.

The town supplies miners and workers who re-build

and maintain the dams destroyed during The Big One.
The Center--In the time before The Big One, The Center moved

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109

more water farther than had ever been moved anywhere.

They used

to manipulate the flow by remote control from this room in
Sacramento with its big board and its flashing lights.

Driving

the system was a Univac Series 904.
The Univac never died.
to resume its duties.

It waited.

It survived.

It stood ready, programmed

So did much of the

infrastructure, the canals and conduits, the sensors and metering
devices.

Much of what didn't was easily repaired.

The League was

soon in absolute, total control of the most precious
commodity in The Flatlands:

cool, clear water.

The climax of this scenario will take place here.

The

Flatlander, leading an assault force, will storm The Center in an
attempt to liberate it, and the water it controls, from The
League.
CHARACTER SKETCHES:
The Flatlander--Though born to wealth and influence, he chose
to become a member of law enforcement.

He is a Field Marshal for

the Mendota Water District, the largest water district in The
Flatlands, headquartered in Watertown.

It's his job to

enforce district law and that means punishing those who steal or
abuse water.

And that means he works, if not in name, certainly

in fact, for The League.
Approaching middle-age and disillusioned, he can see the
inevitability of change.

He abandons his birthright to battle

the arrogance, abuse and disregard of people's rights and basic

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110

humanity perpetuated by the privileged.
The Mole--Sancho Panza to The Flatlander.
computer hacker.

Alchemist and

He is one of The Mole People.

A binary bandit,

he spends most of his time at his computing apparatus, snuffling
through the dark labyrinths of information.
The Commodore--President and Chief Executive Officer of
AgriChem, the most powerful agrichemical conglomerate before--and
now after The Big One.

The portrait of elegant malevolence, he

is leader of The League; a commodore of a land-locked navy on a
sea of sand.
Unknown to the other, he and The Flatlander are brothers—Cain
and Abel.
Daedalus--A genetic engineer in the employ of AgriChem.

The

archetypal artist-scientist, he is dedicated to building the
ultimate fighting machine.

It is his mission to genetically

engineer a race of superhuman mutants to serve as the mercenary
army for The League.
Creole Tattoo--Born to Cajun and Japanese parents, she is
proprietoress of the local "Attitude Adjustment Parlor".

Though

mistress to The Commodore, she is in love with The Flatlander.
She is also the secret leader of a band of environmental
terrorists known as The Muirs.

She sleeps with The Commodore for

information and with The Flatlander for love.
Fremont--Right-hand man to The Commodore.
fortune, he's a man of war.

A soldier of

He lives to take orders; to simply

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do his job.

111

He leads The Barnestormers.

The League--An alliance of water barons, agrichemical
companies, and factory farms.

They run huge, hi-tech,

water-intensive, hydroponic factory farms.

They supply most of

the remaining world with food supplies.
Following The Big One, the western territories again became an
untamed frontier.

The maker and enforcer of the "territorial

common law" was The League.

They used their money, power, and

influence to gain absolute and complete control of all sources of
water in California.

That meant rivers, dams, canals, and the

infrastructure that controlled the entire system.

Most of this

was already in place before The Big One, courtesy of the State
Department of Water Resources and The Central Valley Water
Project--the most ambitious water project ever attempted by
a single state in modern history.

From the seat of their power--

what was once the Operations Control Center for the California
State Water Project--they manipulate the flow of water.
AgriChem--An agrichemical conglomerate that supplies all the
necessary pesticides, herbicides, and chemicals to run an
energy-intensive agriculture.

It represents the faceless legions

of corporate chemistry.
The Barnestormers--A band of mercenaries and free-lance
gunslingers.

Some survived The Big One, physically bruised and

mentally damaged.

Others were created in the labs of Daedalus.

Havenots--Roving bands of homeless people, mostly Asian or

Tyranny of the Downbeat
Chicano.
bodies.

112

They carry what belongings they have in burned-out car
They live in cardboard boxes.

Many are derelicts,

having succumbed to the cheap, overproof ghetto wines produced
before The Big One.

Because most of these wines were more

chemical than grape, cases and cases of it still exist in the
basements of burned-out liquor stores.

Each time a cache is

discovered, the derelicts get tanked up and begin a rampage of
looting and killing.
The Muirs--A band of water pirates and ecological storm
troopers.

They live in, and defend, a labyrinth of tunnels that

once was a rapid transit system.
easily defended.

Now abandoned and empty, it is

They rob from the water-rich and give to the

water-poor, and punish those who continue to pollute what is left
of the Earth's natural resources.
The Institute--A shadowy, monastic order of Puppetmasters.
They use high-speed super computers and ultra-sophisticated
imaging devices to create possible future scenarios.

They try to

visualize the future and then set events in motion to achieve or
subvert that vision.

They are neither good nor bad.

They simply

are.
The Mole People--A race of near-sighted engineers and
software programmers who live in the empty warehouses and opulent
corporate headquarters that once housed the semiconductor
industry in Silicon Valley.

Their power is their access to

information and their ability to make computers work so people

Tyranny of the Downbeat

113

can communicate.
The Vigilantes--The members of the New Committee of
Vigilance, they control The City.

They were once the ruling

elite of San Francisco; bankers, stock brokers, Presidents and
Chief Executive Officers of major corporations.

Those with

sufficient money sequestered away and enough street smarts to
survive The Big One, re-surfaced to monopolize trade and run the
West Coast.
Serious Moonlight--A blind Mi Wok Indian shaman and conjurer
who lives in the foothills near Boomtown.

The Flatlander visits

him to have dreams and omens interpreted.

He is to The

Flatlander what Merlin was to King Arthur.
The Deacon--A former telejournalist and video gunslinger, he
leads The Holy Modal Rounders.
The Holy Modal Rounders--A fledging, fanatical religious
order that believes in the sanctity and purifying power of
synthesized, heavy-metal rock and roll.
The League.

They intend to overthrow

Their seat of power is the Mormon Temple in the

hills above what was once Oakland.

They have installed a massive

synthesizer, reputed to heal the sick and crippled.

The Temple

is also the head-end of a small, but growing, electronic
ministry.

Many former members of The Barnestormers have found

sanctuary and spiritual peace here.
Hyena--A seven-foot, albino half-breed, he is the keeper of
the "Olympian laugh"; court jester to Serious Moonlight.

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114

BREAK POINT IN SCENARIO:
The engineer at The Institute detected the intruder because he
saw strange footprints in the system.
he set a trap.

It backfired.

Instead of shutting him out,

The interloper was good.

Very good.

He had anticipated every snare and left his own booby trap behind
once he exited the system.
itself.

The logic bomb was tripped by the trap

He could hear the laughter as it exploded and began

shuffling through the data.

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115
CHAPTER 7

The way to learn any game is to play for more than you can
afford to lose.
-- Author Unknown
The present is the only thing that has no end.
-- Erwin Schrodinger
In Sacramento, near the State Capitol, is a building housing
the Operations Control Center of the Department of Water
Resources.

Inside, a computer quietly manipulates the movement

of California's most vital resource:
place.

There is no nonsense here.

water.

This is a serious

After all, these people are

doing nothing less than determining the future of California.
This "hydrologic ballet," as it has been dubbed, controls the
wealth, and thus the power, of this entire state.
To enter the control room of the State Water Project is like
entering the nerve center of NASA in Houston, or master control
at ABC in New York.

Lights, flashing buttons, display panels,

print-outs, monitors, sensors, computers; and the people who run
and watch each one.

DISSOLVE:
MUSIC CHANGE: UP FULL THEN UNDER
THEME #8: "Swan Lake"/"Fountains of Rome"
42

INT. OCC - ESTABLISHING SHOT

HIGH ANGLE WIDE SHOT of Operations Control Center.
enters frame and begins to speak.

JOAN DIDION

JOAN DIDION
I am a native Californian. And a worshiper
of water. This is the Operations Control
Center for the California State Water Project
in Sacramento. What they do here is move

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116

water. Lots of it. More water farther than
has ever been moved anywhere.
43

EXT. RIVER CANYONS - ESTABLISHING SHOT

WIDE SHOT OF granite canyons of the Estanislao River.
rock and river.

Shots of

DIDION (V.O.)
Water collects in the granite keeps of the
Sierra Nevada. It races toward the ocean in
the riverbeds of the Estanislao, the Eel, the
Snake. Trillions of gallons of it are stored
behind dams named Oroville, Hetch Hetchy, and
Jamestown.
44

MONTAGE

Shots of dispatch sequence. Dispatchers receiving incoming
calls. Shots of allocation process.
And, every morning, down at Project
headquarters in Sacramento, they decide how
much of their water they want to move the
next day. They make this decision according
to supply and demand. Simple in theory, more
difficult in practice.
CONTINUE MONTAGE.
Intercut shots of field dispatch sequence. Close with shot of
gates opening to release water. Watch water rushing into
irrigation ditches and then into rows between plants.
In theory, each morning, each of the
Project's five field divisions--the Oroville,
the Delta, the San Luis, the San Joaquin, and
the Southern divisions--places a call to
headquarters. They tell the dispatchers how
much water is needed by each local water
contractor, based on orders from growers and
other big users. A schedule is made. The
gates open and close according to that
schedule. The water flows south and the
deliveries are made.
45

INT. COMPUTER ROOM - ESTABLISHING SHOT

HIGH ANGLE WIDE SHOT of Univac 418 sitting in computer room.
In practice, this requires prodigious
coordination, precision, and the best efforts
of several human minds. And a silent

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partner. This whole hydrologic ballet, this
acrobatic rise and fall of megatonnages of
water performed on a stage twice the length
of Pennsylvania, is orchestrated by a quietly
efficient choreographer.
46

EXT. OROVILLE DAM - MEDIUM SHOT

Shot of water flowing down from the dam.
In practice, what's being delivered here is
an enormous volume of water. In practice, it
takes two days to move this kind of volume
down through Oroville into the Delta, which
is the great pooling place for California
water. And the most ecologically sensitive
point in the system.
47

MONTAGE

Shots of Delta water system.
For some years, the Delta has been alive with
electronic sensors and telemetering
equipment. With men blocking channels,
diverting flows, and shoveling fish away from
the pumps.
48

EXT. AQUEDUCT - MEDIUM SHOT

Water flows down the California Aqueduct.
It takes perhaps another six days to move
this same water down the California Aqueduct
from the Delta to the Tehachapi and put it
over the hill to Southern California.
49

EXT. AQUEDUCT - MEDIUM SHOT

Water-level POV of water beginning ascent of Tehachapis.
"Putting some over the hill." That's what
they say around here when they're talking
about pumping Aqueduct water from the floor
of the San Joaquin Valley up and over the
Tehachapi Mountains. "Pulling it down" is
what they say when they're talking about
lowering the water level somewhere in the
system.
50

EXT. EDMONSTON PUMPS - ESTABLISHING SHOT

117

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118

To some engineers the Edmonston pumps are the
ultimate triumph. The most splendid snub
nature has ever received. A sizable river of
water running uphill. It's here that
California intends to prove that the Second
Law of Thermodynamics is a lie. Watching
this wall of water roar uphill makes you
understand why moving water in California
requires more electrical energy than is used
by several states.
51

INT. OCC - WIDE SHOT

Shot of DIDION standing in the Control Center.
alongside as she walks CAMERA RIGHT TO LEFT.

CAMERA TRUCKS

JOAN DIDION
From this room in Sacramento, the whole
system takes on the aspect of a perfect,
three-billion-dollar hydraulic toy. The
entire water project seems as make-believe as
California itself, in its relentless quest to
deny its desert heart.
MUSIC:
52

UP FULL THEN OUT

MONTAGE

Shots of California water system.
BREAK POINT IN DOCUMENTARY
The "farmers" on the west side include some of the
wealthiest, most powerful, and influential corporations, holding
companies, investor cartels, associations, consortiums, and
lobbying organizations in the state.

Most of these corporations

became "farmers" in the late Sixties, not because they had a love
for the land, but because it was good business.
tax shelter.

It provided a

Congress passed a law that allowed businesses to

deduct all expenses for specific crops during the early stages of
growth, while vines and trees were still maturing and hadn't
produced any fruit.

The exempt crops included fruits and nuts.

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119

As a result, large investors, with money to bury, began buying
large chunks of land and paying handsome sums to the small family
farmers.
The federal government, once again, had created all the
right conditions to squeeze out the small farmer in favor of the
factory.

And in the process, they also made it possible for

these corporations, once their trees and vines began bearing
fruit, to virtually monopolize the marketplace.

They could set

the price and increase their holdings by driving their smaller,
tenacious competitors out of business and then buying their land.
The bigger got bigger and the smaller just disappeared.
These growers have amassed huge fiefdoms of dirt-cheap
scrub land.

They irrigate marginal crops on questionable land

with an endless supply of subsidized water provided by the
Westlands Water and Power League--an alliance of water users,
corporate farming combines, and petro-chemical conglomerates,
banded together by mutual interest, to monitor the use of water,
and each other.
In addition to the corporate farms, its members include
OxyGene; the California River Flood Control Consortium, based in
Sacramento; the Water Imperium, located in Valencia; the Table
Grape and Tree Fruit Association of Oakdale; the Tricounty Water
Agency, located in Bakersfield; and the Boca Negra Water District
of Santa Monica.
Corporate headquarters of The League sits along a county
highway, sandwiched between, and surrounded by, acres of cotton.
Irrigated, its grounds are green with grass, eucalyptus trees,

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oak and ash trees.

120

There are picnic tables and sandbox toys for

family and company outings.

Down the road are green plywood

houses for the temporary workers.

All day long, the brand new,

light blue company field trucks hum in and out of the recently
paved driveway.
The grounds are not impressive.
low key.

In fact, they're purposely

The better to avoid attention.

ostentation here.

Just business.

publicity of any kind.

There is not

The League doesn't like

Or people looking into its affairs.

There are nearly 1000 square miles in the water district
controlled by The League.

It is the biggest and richest

federally subsidized irrigation district in the United States.
It produces one half billion dollars in food and fiber annually.
Of the 42 commercially grown products, on the 566,844 acres
irrigated by state water projects, the west side "farmers"
average a return of $1100 per acre.
The League is the biggest consumer of water in the western
United States.

It gets more water from the state's water

projects than anyone.
six million people.

The League uses as much water as a city of
Through price breaks, it gets about 3.5

billion dollars in water subsidies.

We're talking about a 14

billion dollar annual harvest.
Among the members of The League, the DiGiulio Winery is
unique.

It is still privately owned.

landowners are everything in between.

The rest of the large
Many are throwbacks to the

old days when a few families controlled most of the arable land
in the valley.

Many are the property of multinational

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conglomerates whose major business isn't even agriculture.

In

addition to providing the convenient and lucrative tax dodge,
these lands provide a front for foreign investors.

Some of these

farms are owned by holding companies made up of conglomerates and
investors based in London, Bahrain, Zurich, Paris, Tokyo, and
Hong Kong.

It's an easy, and inconspicuous, way for foreign

investors to get a toehold in America and participate in the
capitalist system.
Once established, they consolidate.

They buy more land.

They slowly force smaller farmers out of business.

More land

generates more money, through cash crops or tax breaks, which
buys more political power and influence.

The metaphor used

by Frank Norris is as apt today as it was then.

The octopus whose

tentacles seek out and strangle everything within reach.
Most of these corporations were only interested in the
return on investment their on-site managers could achieve.
They were not particularly concerned about dying wetlands,
deformed wildlife, or contaminated groundwater; the bastard
offspring of chemical-dependent and techno-intensive
agribusiness, unless it interfered with their operation.
Besides, they weren't eating the tainted birds or drinking the
polluted water.
Some of these feudal barons even seemed to take a perverse
joy in sucking the land dry and leaving the shards behind, as if
this was the one way they could take their revenge on the American
land and people for some past insult; an invisible, but
no less effective way of undermining the American way of life.

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For one man in particular, it was his way of personally
regaining face for an entire generation of ancestors, his way of
re-taking Pearl Harbor, of winning the war of the Pacific Rim,
not in the shore break or rice paddies of Guam or Okinawa, but the
rivers, pastures, and orchards of California.

His name was

Takahiro Ozawa.
The 55-year old Ozawa was only fifteen when the war ended in
the Pacific, but the humiliation did not.

He remembered his own

father's seppuku, and that of other family members and friends,
when they were faced with unforgivable failure.

He remembered

the emotions and tucked them away, holding them, savoring their
bitter taste, and using them as a prod, a scar that would not let
him forget, would not let him weaken, would not let him fail in
his quest for revenge.
The billionaire Tokyo resident built his fortune by using
the equity in his family's small kimono business to buy his first
hostess bar.

He then bought the building it was housed in.

Then

more hostess bars, nightclubs, and buildings in more expensive
and fashionable Tokyo locations followed, until he controlled a
substantial, and growing, real estate empire.

He suddenly found

himself fabulously wealthy, as the price of Japanese land went
skyward and the yen replaced the dollar as the world's most
solid currency.

With his fortune made, he had the resources he

needed to initiate his revenge.

He turned his eyes eastward,

toward the sun rising over Hawaii and California.
Within two years, Ozawa bought over 160 houses,
condominiums, and buildings in Hawaii, worth more than eighty

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million dollars.

123

His was the most visible of the many shopping

sprees that had residents, legislators, and business people of
The Islands worried about the Japanese land-buying juggernaut.
In one day alone, he bought 17 properties without ever leaving
his limousine.

He simply pointed and paid.

Ozawa once said that he never thought he would ever own
property in Hawaii because it was too commercial, too "primitive";
too many naked, oily bodies running around in rubber
sandals.

Then he visited Oahu.

The beautiful beaches and azure

skies convinced him it might be a good idea to buy some property
if only, as he explained, it was to keep a change of clothes in.
He continued to accumulate property there, although he made it
abundantly clear on several occasions that he felt the buildings
were unimpressive, poorly and carelessly built "lousy candy
houses."
Ozawa's arrogance, and obvious disdain for Americans,
became common knowledge on the mainland as a result of the
"slipper incident."

It took place during one of the few times he

chose to personally inspect an American home in Honolulu.
Approaching the door to look inside, Ozawa was kindly, and
respectfully, asked to remove his shoes.
paused, then turned and left.

The fickle land baron

When asked why, he replied that

there were no slippers and, snap judging the house too unclean
for him to walk through in his stocking feet, he chose to leave.
Smiling a cool grin, he mentioned that such an oversight hadn't
been made since; that brand-new slippers were now especially
prepared for each visit.

He later added that he felt the owners

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had not paid sufficient respect to him.

And that they, like most

Americans, seemed to take him and his countrymen too lightly.
The true source of his arrogant acquisitiveness had fleetingly
come to light.
him.

The uproar that followed did little to ruffle

He had other matters to attend to.
Although Island property was the most visible of his

American land holdings, Ozawa spent some of his time in
California.

He would fly into San Francisco and from his

penthouse suite atop the Mark Hopkins, which he never left, he
would transact his mainland business.

The particulars of these

dealings remained known only to his closest associates and a
handful of California businessmen.

It was even suspected that

one of his objectives was to turn California into a "free trade
zone" for Pacific Rim countries; a marketplace where traders
could come and go as they pleased, unencumbered by visas and
tariffs, to freeboot and traffic in the hard and soft goods of
the entire world.
Takahiro Ozawa, son of a kimono maker, was mapping the
master strategy that would make him one of the largest landowners
in the state of California.

His collaborators were none less

than the members of the Westlands Water and Power League and real
estate evangelist James David Delgado.
It was not well-known, at least early in his career because
it would have been bad for business, but Ozawa was an active
member of a growing political faction that advocated a return to
the militarism of pre-World War II Japan.
fund the movement.

He helped organize and

And now, a number of their party--people he

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supported--held office in the Japanese government.
In addition to Ozawa's cartel, there are another eight or so
companies that control most of the agricultural land in the
valley.

The primary business of each ranges from oil to media to

transportation.

By conspiring with the other large growers, by

controlling local officials and elected representatives--through
political contributions or more overt bribery--many have carved
out their market and cornered it.

Whether it's olives, cotton,

tomatoes, or grapes, these conglomerates ruthlessly determine
where the market goes, who stays in business and who doesn't,
what the fair market value for that product is.

No one is large

enough or powerful enough or brave enough to stop them.

And it

is they who are changing the face of American agriculture in
California, the Midwest, the South, and every other geographical
area dependent on tilling the land.
And it is they who control the water.
The Central Valley in the 1990s looked a lot like the
Western Territories of the late 1860s and early 1870s.

Despite

the existence of "official state law," and sometimes under its
guise, the Valley was controlled by an informal, but no less
enforceable, "territorial common law."

Nearly everyone who lived

there knew it, understood it, and recognized who enforced it.
Even this century's immigrants, the Chicanos and Asians, learned
quickly who really ruled.
behind the throne.

They were no strangers to the power

The maker and enforcer was The League.

Like the cattle barons who ruled the feudal duchys of the
Western Territories, the power of The League was difficult to

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assess and almost as impossible to overstate.

They monopolized

the wealth and controlled the political power of the Central
Valley and much of the state.

The public knew about the money,

perhaps not of the entire League, but certainly of its more
prominent and visible members.
power.

They definitely understood the

But of what type and to what degree, and how tight the

tentacles were wrapped around certain public officials, they
really had little idea.

In actual fact, their reach extended to

the State Capitol and its legislature.

And many local officials

and politicians had been, or now were, members.

The League

elected Congressmen, Governors, Senators, and, when the cards
were right, and return favors guaranteed, even Presidents.
In the Western Territories before the turn of the last
century, the major problems facing the ruling class were cattle
rustlers and immigrant homesteaders.
and the same.

Sometimes the two were one

The cattlemen could hang the rustlers with the

backing of the common law of the range.

But the homesteaders had

the blessing of a federal government eager to tame and populate a
continent and thus realize its manifest destiny.

Within twenty

years of the Homestead Act, the unlimited expanse of unbroken
grazing lands had been carved into thousands of 160-acre parcels,
fenced off and under cultivation.

The stock owners were unable

to legally enforce "land rustling," which is what they considered
this stealing of "their" land by foreigners; theirs--the cattle
man's--by birthright, tradition, and the oldest of claims, actual
use.

With their backs against the wall and the future staring

them straight in the face, they began ruthlessly murdering some

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of their "neighbors," resorting to charges of cattle rustling, in
an attempt to scare the immigrants off the lands before they
had stayed long enough to claim title.

The charges were often

transparent, barely able to justify the casual disregard for
whatever official law existed, but no thinner than measures taken
before, or since, to maintain a toehold, to preserve the status
quo.
The Twentieth Century landowners now living in California,
in the last of the frontiers, very closely resemble their
forebears.

Instead of running cattle, they're cashing in on

cotton, tomatoes, rice, and grapes.

And though there were

immigrants on the land to them, these landowners weren't fearful
of losing their land, of having it parceled out.

They were more

worried about losing the one thing their crops needed to survive.
They weren't riding the range looking for cattle rustlers.
were riding point looking for "water rustlers."

They

More people on

the land meant the need for more water, a resource these men felt
was as much their birthright, by custom and usage, as the open
range was to the cattlemen before them.

The escalating

population of the West, especially in California and its Central
Valley, and the wave upon wave of immigrants, whether from Mexico
or Southeast Asia, Massachusetts or Wisconsin, was depleting a
once abundant resource; a resource agribusiness needed to
survive.
These men could no more prosecute people for "water
stealing" than the stock growers could, but they could use the
same weapons, the same informal "common law," the same harassment

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and intimidation to subjugate, or run off, as many interlopers as
they could.

The League was their Stock Growers' Association.

Their "territorial common law" was the true law.

And they

expected their governmental agents, the ones they put into power,
to enforce it.
Caught in the middle, now as then, between the old,
established order and the coming new order, were the keepers of
the law; those charged with enforcing the official law that
represented everyone, newcomers and old alike, but who were
expected to unofficially maintain the accepted common law that
kept the existing order in power.

Those most often caught in

between were those in federal law enforcement, whether Marshals
in the 1880s or FBI agents in the 1980s; those who had often
gotten their jobs because they too were once part of the
propertied class and had been appointed by their own people,
whether Association or League; the ones they were now supposed
to pursue and perhaps even prosecute.
These men, and unlike the last century, women, witnessed
first hand, from the moment they were born, the arrogance and abuse
of power of their own kind.

Many grew up to perpetuate it, as they

went into the family business, or became the legal, or
legislative arm, of the status quo.

A handful of others became

disillusioned, sickened by the disregard of people's rights and
basic humanity.

These few chose to give up their birthright, to

exorcise what they were by becoming a part of the new order.
These men and women included Patrick Michael Walsh and Laura
Van deCamp.

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Perfection is a masculine desideratum, while woman inclines by
nature to completeness.
-- Carl Jung
At 36, Laura Van deCamp is a successful career woman.
Determined to make it on her own, she did.
Drives a new Mazda RX-7 convertible.

She makes good money.

And lives with Chloe, her

7-year old cat.
After graduating from Hastings Law School, she went to work
as a staff lawyer for the Bay Area Rapid Transit system.

When

she and her husband decided to return to Ralston--finally in his
case, reluctantly in hers--she took a job in the Public
Defender's office.

She was appointed county Appellate Judge just

before the separation.

She stayed just long enough for the

divorce to become final then she exiled herself to Washington
D.C. to work for a colleague of her father's in the Department of
Agriculture.

She stayed for nearly two years before an election,

a change in administration and her own heart sent her home again.
She went into private practice this time, joining the respected
firm of Delancy & Reed.

Now, she's in line to be appointed a

member of the state Water Resources Control Board; recommended by
the Governor, another old friend of her father's.
Laura loves the process, the interaction, the challenge of
lawyering, lobbying, and politics.

She hasn't become jaded yet,

though the game probably killed her father.
Many women search for their father all their lives.
husbands, friends, lovers.

That was Laura.

In

She spent her entire

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130

childhood trying to please her father, to earn his love and
affection, to be the most important thing in his life.
tomboy to be the son he never had.
created another.

Became a

That solved one problem, but

It made an enemy of her mother.

Whether she

realized it or not, she entered politics to please her father.
To finally get his approval.

She only earned her mother's wrath.

Laura stands a stripling slender five-ten of intimidation
to most men her height.

For a woman who had been taller than

most her age, she shows no sign of the self-effacing stoop
affected by so many of her peers out of deference to the boys.
Her parents had urged her to stand straight and her own
confidence made it easy.
sophisticated.

Her grace is more athletic than

Whether walking, sitting, or standing in

conversation, she moves with easy authority.

Her intelligence

and self-assurance make her appear still taller, more athletic,
almost man-boyish.
Her eyes are brown, almost black, her skin dusky, like dark
olive oil.

Her hair color is somewhere between blonde and brown,

with just enough red to make it glow.

She has always worn it to

contemporary taste, sometimes long and straight to her waist,
other times up in a Gibson-girl, or short and perm-curly.

But

it frames her face best the way she wears it now, just to her
shoulders and straight.

A bit of a natural curl and its own

thickness makes it maneful.
She is sexy, not in a sensual or voluptual way, but in a
leaner, more intelligent, harder-edged way.

This is a woman of

no-nonsense, who you meet halfway, as an equal, whether in the

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131

board room or the bed room.

If you were comfortable with who you

were and could handle the challenge, there was no more
delightfully terrifying company to be had.

But few men had

bothered, libidinously exposed by her, shrinking in her shadow.
And she's got legs.

That's what most men notice first.

Her

breasts are small, her butt tight and flat, creating the illusion
that her legs stretch all the way to her neck.

And when she

strikes a pose, standing in front of a jury or at a cocktail
party, one leg leading the other, hand on hip, slit skirt partly
revealing more leg, she is hard to ignore.
She is witty, with an absolutely perverted and off-the-wall
sense of humor.

She has what many a generation older would have

termed "a dirty mind."
mirthful.

But hers is refreshingly honest and

She likes her bedplay seriously fun.

She has a husky voice that sends shivers running when she
takes it low into a languid whisper.

Yet it commands attention

when shouting full-throated in the courtroom.

Her smile is

slightly crooked, showing perfect teeth, courtesy of early years
entrapped in a metal-mouth dental contraption.

Her face still

has a few freckles, sprouting more whenever she stays out in the
sun too long.

With hair back and no make-up, she looks even more

like the boy pulling the pigtails rather than the girl who owns
them.
Laura is bright.
are no men in her life.
success.

She's aggressive.

And, she's alone.

There

Possibly frightened off by her

Nonetheless, she subscribes to "Cosmo's" philosophy for

surviving single life in the Eighties.

You may lose your lover,

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132

but never lose your job.
Her life isn't complete and it isn't empty.
there is a fear.
family.

But sometimes

That she may never marry again.

And she wants a family.

Or have a

So she wants to be sure that

any man she sleeps with isn't wasting her time.

Often these

days, she thinks of Tillie, the lonely old lady next
doesn't visit very often anymore.
Overpowering.

door.

She

There's a smell in her house.

For Laura, that smell means slow death, suffered

alone.
Her first marriage ended in divorce.
she's been on the run ever since.

Very civilized.

And

From San Francisco to Ralston

to Sacramento to Washington, D.C., then back to Ralston.
Laura's really a hometown homebody.

She always liked

Ralston, but as a single woman, it was a trap with no bait.

She

left because she wanted a family and there seemed to be no
prospects in town.

Had she met someone during the years of her

return, she probably would have stayed.

And even during her

years in Washington, amid the state dinners and the junkets, and
the power in the air, she still missed the sense of community she
found in that small valley town light years in distance and
attitudes from the political center of the free world.

During

her self-imposed exile, in a place of prominence on the
refrigerator in her Georgetown condominium, she kept crayon
drawings by her nieces and nephews.
truly cherished.

That was the artwork she

That's probably why, when the administration

changed in her department, she returned to Ralston.
Now, when she talks about the future, there's a little

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133

desperation and frustration in her eyes.

She sees friends and

their families who seem happily married, who are busy building a
home and future for their children.

And here she is, attractive,

intelligent, financially independent, and there doesn't seem to
be anyone out there for her.

So instead of putting additional

energy into her romantic future, she doubles her time at the
office.

She figures if she can't find a lover, she'll more than

make up for it on the job.

Behind the oak-paneled doors, it's meeting time.

The Board

of Directors of the Westlands Water and Power League are gathered
in shrouded silence.

The heavy drapes and polished furniture

create the aura of authority.

There is power in this room.

Nobody knows much about the members of the board.
tried to find out.
obvious.

No one has succeeded.

Many have

But some things are

Most are white males, middle-aged or older, very

wealthy, and very conservative.
by one passion:

And they are all bound together

their commitment to controlling the flow of

water in California.
There is a problem.

The board has learned of Elliot

Lincoln's plan to make a "serious" film about water in
California.

The details are sketchy, but apparently The League

and its members have been targeted for investigation as part of
Lincoln's documentary.
The president of the board, pressing the fingertips of both
hands together in a gesture of nervous discomfort, addresses his
comments directly and exclusively to one person.

"I think it

Tyranny of the Downbeat

134

goes without saying that we, and I feel I speak for everyone in
this room, are concerned about the reports we are receiving
regarding this proposed documentary."
There is no response.

The recipient of this lecture

obviously plans to let them do most of the talking.
"There is simply too much at stake here to be cavalier about
the potential damage such an effort represents."
The listener takes a drink of water, carefully puts the glass
down, and folds his hands on the table.
movement is watched by dozens of eyes.

Even his smallest
And he knows it.

He's

playing to them.
"Elliot Lincoln is a very popular and very influential man.
If he says that something is true, most people will believe him.
He has been a very successful entertainer.
equally popular propagandist.

He threatens to be an

And he could severely compromise

everyone in this room."
His sweeping gesture dies as he is distracted by movement at
the back of the room.

He notices a solitary observer standing in

the shadows, listening intently to the lecture.
"I certainly cannot presume to tell you your business, or
what we expect you to do

...

"

He stops because this presumption has visibly stirred the
listener.
"

...

He hurries to make his point.
in this matter.

But we suggest that steps be taken

immediately to neutralize this project and stem the tide of
negative publicity we suspect it will generate.
we neither want nor need."

It is exposure

Tyranny of the Downbeat

135

As the listener stands and turns to take his leave, the
board president quickly tries to recover control.
"Thank you all for attending today."
Before he can ask for a motion to adjourn, the man is gone.
On his way out, barely acknowledges the man holding the door for
him.

The one who has been watching the entire time.

Another

member of the board, recently appointed by influential friends,
the rancher Jon Henry Miller.
Miller follows, a safe and respectful distance behind,
driving down the country road away from League headquarters and
onto highway 580.
North of Mendota, on the outskirts of town, near where the
old main highway used to run, he pulls up next to a white
limousine, incongruously out of place in front of the last
bungalow.

He enters, brushing by two burly columns that

obviously double as bodyguards.

Through the smoke stains, road

grease, and fly specks, we see him acknowledge another man before
he sits at a wobbly, gray, Formica-topped table.

We cannot

clearly see who he is talking to, but he is obviously reporting
what has just taken place at the board meeting.
him long.

It doesn't take

Finishing, he leaves, pulling back onto 580 and

heading back south.

A moment later, the man also leaves.

Obscured by the bodyguards, he quickly ducks into the back of the
limo.

Meet the unseen mover.

This is The Puppetmaster.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

136
CHAPTER 8

There are places I remember
All my life though some have changed
Some for ever not for better
Some are gone and some remain
All these places had their meanings
With lovers and friends
I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life, I've loved them all
But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
-- Lennon and McCartney, "In My Life"
One of the first people to join Elliot--to embark on the
journey--was another crusader now living in Ralston.

Throughout his

life, Robin Devereaux had written and lectured about his fascination
with the challenges nature presents to man; the sort of physical
confrontations that have always existed between humans and their
environment.

These held a special mystery and

attraction for him.

And he had dedicated his life to fighting those who would kill the
magic, like the Army Corps of Engineers and the Bureau of
Reclamation, righteous in their attempts to dam and divert all the
waters of the entire western United States.

He was almost singly

responsible for keeping many of California's
rivers wild and scenic.
Now, he was content to relax, to occasionally raft some
white water, or climb an unassailable ascent.

The rest of the

time he spent on his latest "crusade"--designing and selling a

Tyranny of the Downbeat

137

line of "adventurewear" clothing.
of the man:

The clothes were a reflection

rugged, practical, and durable.

He called the line

"White Water," after one of his favorite pastimes.

His passion

for outdoor adventure took shape in the clothes he designed.
They were clothes he enjoyed wearing.

And now much of active

California was doing the same.
Devereaux grew up in Chico and Stockton, California.

He

studied Human Ecology at Berkeley and created his own master's
program in interdisciplinary studies on the future of American
cities.
Berkeley.

He was active in the peace movement in the sixties at
He helped found "The Whole Earth Catalog" and was an

"Earth Day" leader.

He also formed a group called "EcoFuture,"

an organization dedicated to promoting the politics of ecology.
It was a time of freedom and a time of action.
propagandized.

He organized.

He

He catalyzed the individual, galvanized activists

to use the power of the group and the political process to get
things done.
Like many in that time, in that movement, he idolized Gandhi,
Martin Luther King, Jr., and the other pacifists who fought and won
concessions without resorting to physical action or violence.

And

like them, his non-violent stance, his resolute inaction, was almost
the cause of his own death once when he tried to keep a dam from
rising and a river flowing.

The last stand he took nearly took his

life.
One beautiful summer's morning, he kayaked into one of the
lower canyon's of the Estanislao River and chained himself to
a granite boulder.

Only one person knew exactly where he was.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

138

The Corps, the Bureau, and the national news media soon knew what
he was doing.

That same morning, the head of the Army Corps

received his hand-written ultimatum.

If the waters of the

Estanislao rose above a certain height, as the river was
stopped behind the Jamestown Dam they had just completed, he
would drown.

One man and "the most rapacious federal agency in

the history of modern ecology," stood face-to-face and
eyeball-to-eyeball.

The agency was the first to blink.

Devereaux quietly floated out of the river canyon and into
temporary anonymity.

As the rebellion dispersed and the

enthusiasm dissolved, and the search for ideals was abandoned in
favor of the chase for comfort, he settled in Ralston.
married Sharon, a local girl.
girl.

He

They had two children, a boy and

And a life.
But, like so many before him, he couldn't completely let go

of his addiction to activism.

He organized the first

large-scale, commercially successful, alternative recycling
center.

He also fought his first battles against the factory

farms of the Westlands and their political allies who, when they
weren't stealing the valley's water, were damming its rivers for
whatever use they chose.
The Westlands Water and Power League had become the newest
ally of the Bureau of Reclamation--the BuRec--and the Army Corps.
The League needed water and the Bureau got it for them, with help
from the Corps, whether it was taming wild rivers in the Sierras,
draining wetlands, or re-channeling stream and creek flows.
The BuRec was originally established to protect the small

Tyranny of the Downbeat

139

farmers of the west; to assure their survival by getting them
sufficient irrigation water to raise their crops.

But their role

as guardian and protector did not last long, especially in
California.
The Bureau and the Corps were lashed together from the very
beginning.

The Bureau wanted to farm the desert.

wanted to build dams.

The Corps

That meant controlling water.

Or, in the

self-serving euphemism of water-hungry westerners, that meant not
wasting it.

"Conservation" traditionally meant protecting

waterways from development.

Out west, it meant building dams.

When westerners said you were wasting water, they really meant
you weren't consuming it.

To realize their goals--and to

perpetuate their continued existence--both agencies quickly
realized that the small farmer wouldn't be much use to them.

But

large farms and thirsty cities, wealthy and powerful, with the
same goals, would be.

Combined, these agencies, with the support

of organizations like The League and cities like Los Angeles, had
dammed and re-channeled more rivers and ruined more wetlands, in
a shorter period of time, than anyone in the history of the
planet.

And now they existed solely to quench the insatiable

thirst of the factory farmers, with little thought of the
consequences to wildlife or the people exposed to agricultural
runoff.
Now 47, Robin's sandy hair is tinged with gray.
trimmed beard has the same colors.
his words carefully.
again, politically.

His neatly

He is soft-spoken and chooses

He is trim and active.

Physically, and

He has emerged from his self-imposed exile

Tyranny of the Downbeat

140

because no one, in this new age of acquisition, seems remotely
concerned about the future of the planet or the race of people
who depend on it.

Those he once fought to keep from damming the

waters, he's about to begin fighting again to keep from poisoning
them.
Elliot's call simply anticipated his own.

MUSIC: UP FULL THEN UNDER NARRATION
THEME #9: "Los Angelenos"
53

EXT. CANAL BANK - ESTABLISHING SHOT

Shot of empty irrigation canal from bank level.
puddles of water and debris is MARC REISNER.

Standing amongst

MARC REISNER
Call it water imperialism. This control and
manipulation of water. Out here in the West,
everything depends on it. On capturing it
behind dams, storing it, and rerouting it in
concrete rivers over distances of hundreds of
miles. It's also the most blatant example of
socialism for the rich.
54

MONTAGE

Shots of irrigated agriculture. Aqueducts, canals, ditches.
entire "hydrologic ballet" under control.
REISNER (v.o.)
California agriculture does not like
unpredictability, especially when it comes to
water. So they have changed the natural
order. They have captured water, stored it,
and moved it around.
55

EXT. LOS ANGELES - ESTABLISHING SHOT

AERIAL SHOT of Los Angeles on a particularly smoggy day.
With its meager and erratic rainfall, Los
Angeles has always been haunted by drought.
The mere thought of more water always sets
off a Pavlovian response.

The

Tyranny of the Downbeat
56

EXT. AQUEDUCT - MEDIUM SHOT

Water being pushed up over the Tehachapis to Southern California.
Southern California's demands for more
Northern California water will never end so
long as water planners continue to be
afflicted with the 19th-century assumption
that we have infinite resources to support
unlimited growth.
57

EXT. OWENS RIVER - WIDE SHOT

Shot of Owens River flowing down toward Los Angeles.
The Owens River created Los Angeles, letting
a great city grow where common sense dictated
that one should never be. But it could also
be said that it ruined Los Angeles.
58

MONTAGE

Scenes of Los Angeles.
The Owens River made LA large enough and
wealthy enough to go out and capture any
river within six hundred miles. And that
made it larger, wealthier, and a good deal
more awful.
CONTINUE MONTAGE.
Shots emphasizing negative side.
It's the only megalopolis in North America
mentioned in the same breath as Mexico City
or Djakarta. Places whose insoluble excesses
raise the specter of some majestic, stately
kind of collapse.
MUSIC:

UP FULL THEN OUT

BREAK POINT IN DOCUMENTARY

141

Tyranny of the Downbeat

142
CHAPTER 9

Through the chill of winter,
Running across a frozen lake.
Bloodhounds are on his trail,
All odds are against him.
With a family to provide for,
The one thing he must keep alive,
Will the wolf survive?
Standing in the pouring rain,
All alone and the world has changed.
Running scared, now forced to hide,
In a land where he once stood with pride.
But he'll find his way,
By the morning light.
Sounded 'cross the nation,
Coming from your hearts and minds.
Battered tubs and old guitars,
Singing songs of passion.
It's the truth that they all look for,
Something they must keep alive,
Will the wolf survive?
Will the wolf survive?
-- David Hidalgo & Louie Perez, "Will the Wolf Survive?"
I have come to San Juan Bautista to see him.

Traveling the

coast highway southward, I cut over at Watsonville, crossing
Steinbeck country, through the Salinas and Pajaro Valleys.
and vegetable stands beckon along the way.

Fruit

Picked daily by the

workers wearing nylon Dodgers hats, long wool work shirts, and
Levi's bandannas to cover their faces and the backs of their
necks.

Ragged rows of irrigation pipes lie in low trailers,

awaiting the workers who will hand-carry them across the neat
furrows.
This valley, like all the others in this state, needs water.
The rolling hills are brown now, in the summertime, like the old
wooden barns and new stucco homes that line the ridge above and

Tyranny of the Downbeat

143

facing the old town built around the mission founded in 1797.
It's a good town to begin again in.

He lives here with his wife,

Socorro, their two sons, and much of the rest of his extended
"familia."
Because I'm early, I stop for lunch at the "Jardines de San
Juan."

I enjoy the succulents and flowers edging the brick

flagstone patio almost as much as the relleno.

Finishing, I

still have some time, so I head out along The Alameda and cross
over to Second Street to stop at the mission because my sister
says we have relatives buried there.
to walk the few blocks to his office.

Satisfied for now, I decide
Left on Muckelemi to

Fourth Street and left again to the white, side-board building
that houses "La Drama del Coyote."
Daniel Valle is barrel-chested stocky, looking not unlike
Pancho Villa.

A resemblance he perpetuates with drooping

handlebar mustache and the campaign hat of the Mexican
Revolution he sometimes wears.
blood of two races oceans apart.

His voice resonates with the
He is both civilized

"conquistador" and savage Yaqui.
His eyes are a deep, hollow brown, eternally concerned.
hair, a dark dark, is longish, slick and pomaded.
likes to wear it in a short ponytail.

His

He sometimes

It glistens with health.

Below the widow's peak, he carries a small scar, courtesy of a
broken bottle and a street fight during high school.

He is

handsome; not slickly and seductively like Valentino, but
innocently and open-faced like a young Anthony Quinn.
We talk of the journey his parents made from the deserts of

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144

Mexico to the fields of California.

Following the crops, they

moved up the valley through towns like Fresno, Firebaugh, Selma,
Los Banos, Livingston, Ralston, and Stockton.

His family finally

settled in Gilroy, hoping to make it the end of the migration,
where he was born, forty-six years ago.
His father prayed for guidance, for a sign to help his son
find a way out.

And he worked extra jobs to pay for the prayer.

He would say of Danny, too often to anyone who would listen, "My
son, he can be anything he wants to be.
the fields."

As long as it is not in

School became his ticket to ride.

Education showed

him the possibilities and he never looked back.

Pajaro Community

College led to San Francisco City College led to the
Haight-Ashbury and "The Diggers" in 1965.

He was performing in

street theater and taunting the Tactical Squad at SF State when
the grape worker's strike began.

He had to go.

His people, now

calling themselves Chicanos, were taking a stand in Delano.
was a time of reckoning.

It

For all that he and his family had

suffered all those years in the fields.
Arriving there and finding no easy entry into the Chavez
power structure, he turned to what he knew.

He organized a

troupe of street players, borrowed a flatbed truck, and began
performing guerrilla theater at the picket lines.
Coyote" was born.

"La Drama del

And Daniel Valle became a powerful voice in La

Raza.
Then the Sixties were suddenly gone.

The apathy and

self-centered introspection of the Seventies and Eighties descended.
It was no longer cool to care.

The movement

Tyranny of the Downbeat

faltered.

145

Chavez retreated to the Tehachapi Mountains.

remained behind, writing.
wrote a few screenplays.
film.

Valle

Poetry, plays, short stories.

He even

One he made into a hugely successful

Enough to give him the freedom to continue studying this

state of mind called California.
Suddenly, unexpectedly, the cycle came full circle.
began asking questions again.
returned.

They began protesting.

People

Chavez

Pesticides would be to the new movement what lettuce

and table grapes were to the old.

But there was no place for

Daniel at his side because he had been too critical of the
retreat.

In his impatience to perpetuate and maintain the

changes they had achieved, he had alienated himself from the
leaders and conservative philosophy of La Causa.

Also, many

Hispanics had accused him of selling out; of whoring after the
Anglo entertainment dollar.

He knew in his heart he hadn't.

It is here, in San Juan, that Daniel and "La Drama" have
come to re-group; to re-establish their influence.

To re-capture

the credibility and the power they lost when they crucified
Chavez.

He sees a new activism, or rather, one that has been

dormant and is about to rise again.

The Hispanics are the people

of the future and they need a new voice, someone to dramatize
their life in this new age.

He intends to prove to his people

that he is still the best one to chronicle "la causa".
still believes in the right and good things.
opportunity, a forum.

That is why I am here.

That he

He simply needs an
Daniel Valle will

write "The Water Project".
He appears relaxed, content.

His style is that of old

Tyranny of the Downbeat

146

California, of the Mission days.

The days of the Don.

A

cultivated style somewhat at odds with his younger days.
become very much a man of his people.
deliberately.

He weighs his words.

before speaking.

He has

He speaks slowly,
Considers them closely

But what he says betrays a driven man.

On the wall behind his desk is a poster from one of his
early plays.

It reads:

"La tierra pertenece al que la trabaja.

The land belongs to those who work it."

We talk of that and some

of his other concerns.
"Pesticide safety.

Chavez has made it his number one issue.

According to the National Farmworkers Health Group, last year
alone, California reported over 2500 accidental pesticide
poisonings."
"The numbers are low."
"There were more than that?"
"Many more.
"Why not?

We do not really know how many have died."
Aren't there agencies that are supposed to do

nothing but monitor that sort of thing?"
"They did not count the illegals.

Those who went home.

Those who were deported, and died there."
"Why couldn't they be counted?"
"They were afraid.

If they spoke up, they would be fired.

If they said anything, they would be deported.

So they remained

silent."
"And they died quietly?"
"Yes.

They are the guinea pigs.

The factory farms

experiment every day with our people, with the field hands.

It

Tyranny of the Downbeat

147

is they who work with the poisons each day.

They who wear it on

their backs."
"A Federal task force said that about half of the nation's
five million agricultural laborers face the danger of dying.
That nearly two-thirds have been sprayed directly, or
have been hit by drifting spray."
"Do not forget those that go into the field directly after
spraying."
"I thought the EPA monitored exposure and enforced the
limits?

I thought it was law that no one, including farm workers,

should absorb more than the minute amount allowed in food."
"They pretend to believe.

The farm lobby and the chemical

industry pressured the politicians to pass a law with no teeth.
There is an important part you have overlooked.
balances regulations against cost.

The EPA

The cost to growers or anyone

else in agriculture."
"That puts a price on the heads of all the field hands."
"Yes.

Their health is weighed against economic disruption.

Instead of regulating the cause, they modify the effect.
recommend that workers wear protective clothing.
careful when they spray.

They

That they be

That they read and follow directions."

"That doesn't help those who can't read English."
He smiles sadly.
We speak of his most recent accomplishments; his attempts to
transition from the limited audiences and impact of street
theater to the mass appeal of television and motion pictures.
"They say I have sold out.

My own people."

Tyranny of the Downbeat

148

"Because you make television commercials.

Because you made

a successful movie financed by Hollywood?"
"It is just like my people.

It is so like the minorities.

It is an attitude that is self-defeating.
now.

And I did not as a 'Campesino.'

I do not believe it

I believe in triumph.

I

believe in success."
"Isn't that just as dangerous?

Won't that be viewed as a

sellout also?"
"I am only saying, 'What is wrong with success?'
you have me do?
better?

Remain on the flatbed trucks?

Does that make me more pure?

What would

Does that make me

It hurts deeply to make a

statement about something I believe in and then to have my own
people ignore it."
"Will their rejection stop you?"
"It is temporary.

They will understand.

But my future is in the 'glass arena'.
media.

I will do more mass

I can reach more people that way.

greatest good for the most people.
"And what of the stereotype?

I will do plays.

I want to do the

That is my mission."
Will you remain an Hispanic

director?"
"I do not want that.
is what I wish to know.
Chicanos.

California is what I know.

There was a time when I spoke only to

Hispanic is what I am.

I am an American.

The world

But it is not all that I am.

I am also a magician.

The magic I weave is

human magic.

It is the wonder of the human mind.

to everyone.

I have something to give.

of the American landscape."

And it belongs

I can unlock the secrets

Tyranny of the Downbeat

149

"You talk of magicians.

Do you consider yourself a shaman?

Someone who can show people the way?"
"I think our children are searching.
missing.
mythology.

There is something

Much of what is wrong with today's youth is the lack of
There are no models, no rite of passage, to show them

where they belong in society.

They become confused.

to drugs and gangs and guns to fill the void.
help them find the way."

They look

Yes, perhaps I can

He coughs, as if apologizing for this

naked emotion, or to cover what only he knows are the beginnings
of cancer.

The sun isn't quite up yet.
The Ranch.

There are still lights on at

As usual, there's a late shift going.

like the rock & roll lifestyle.

The ones who

Elliot has come down from the

main house to see some of the footage he missed while at the
reunion.

He enters the edit suite.

Already there, as if he'd

never left since Elliot left, hunched over the KEM table, is the
almost human form of The Mole.
"Hey Cam."
A grunt.

The best he can offer.

"Good to see you, too."

Waits.

"Fine.

So, let's do it."

There's a ton I want to get through tonight.

Gotta get back on

track."
As Cam starts to thread up the mag track and work print,
Elliot wanders over to the kitchen of the employee lunch room for
a shot of caffeine.

Opening the can of Diet Pepsi, he's thinking

of many things, but hearing only one.

It keeps chipping away,

Tyranny of the Downbeat

until he acknowledges it.

150

It's something he hears; something he

now suddenly and urgently wants to hear again.
lunch room.

He walks into the

The late crew is just finishing their lunch break.

And like every night, they're watching a rented movie.
suddenly sit up as he enters, snapping to attention.
They relax and go back to the movie.

He watches.

They
He nods.

He startles

them when he speaks.
"Could you play that back?

Just the last few minutes?"

They all scramble for the machine.

"Sure.

Somethin'

wrong?"
"No.

Just thought I heard something."

The tape is rewound and starts to play.

5

INT. GITTES'S OFFICE--GITTES & CURLY

Gittes and Curly stand in front of the desk, Gittes staring
contemptuously at the heavy breathing hulk towering over him.
Gittes takes a handkerchief and wipes away the plunk of
perspiration on his desk.
CURLY
(crying)
They don't kill a guy for that.
GITTES
Oh they don't?
CURLY
Not for your wife. That's the unwritten law.
6

Gittes pounds the photos on the desk, shouting:
GITTES
I'll tell you the unwritten law, you dumb son
of a bitch, you gotta be rich to kill
somebody, anybody, and get away with it. You
think you got that kind of dough, you think
you got that kind of class?

Tyranny of the Downbeat

151

Quietly, like the entire room now, "Stop there.
Turns to The Mole, who's slipped in beside him.

That line."

"That's it.

Can

I borrow that tape?"
They can't give it to him fast enough.

"No problem.

Sure.

Here it is."
They walk to an adjoining screening room.
time since I've seen this movie.
it.

"It's been a long

I'd forgotten just about all of

There may be a lesson or two still in it."
The credits finish.

moment.

The screen glows dark.

Elliot's stretched out full, thinking.

Silence for a
The Mole's

burrowed in.
"It's the same thing."
"What?"
"The same old water grab.

Just a lot bigger.

And what they

can't get or keep, they're poisoning."
The Mole mumbles, following in his wake.
"Just like Owens Valley.

The local politicians and public

officials are helping the rich get richer.
themselves to the water.

All they can use.

Helping them help
And when someone

gets in their way, they remove them."
"Mulwray.

The water commissioner."

"Then they use their power to cover it up.
But not this time.

Or buy immunity.

This time we're going to stop them.

going to expose THIS water grab.

We're

And we're going to expose every

politico, official, and money man that gets in our way."
The Mole shakes his head.
time.

Rich get rich.

"No different.

Same as last

Rich get away with murder."

Tyranny of the Downbeat

"Don't bet on it.
And they can't stop us.

152

I've got the weapons this time around.
We're 'media guerrillas'.

We'll appear

out of nowhere, fire off our message, then disappear back into
the jungle before they know what hit them."
Elliot's eyes flashed in the darkened room.
felt completely, abjectly alone.
transit.

He suddenly

The dangerous, solitary

He smiled quietly to himself.

He felt like a character

in one of his own movies; on a voyage of discovery and
redemption.

The journey had begun.

He couldn't let go of it.

All day long it rode with him.

The next victim of his musings was Janet.

Elliot's hunched

attitude warned her that something was working away inside him.
"The more I think about it, the more angry I get."
She looked up from her notes, unprepared for the extra notch
of intensity.
"Their righteous arrogance.

Their moral immunity."

"Did the studio call again today?"
"No.

I mean, that's not what I was talking about, but

that's part of it."
"Care to put me on the same page?"
He shrugs, trying to loosen up the knots.

"'Chinatown'

didn't tell the entire story.

Sure, it talked about the land

grabs and stealing the water.

But the real crooks, not the

'Noah Crosses', but the other rich and powerful men of Los
Angeles, even the city itself, were left pretty much untouched.
The fact that the city and the people who ran it, went out and

Tyranny of the Downbeat

153

ruined the entire Owens Valley, ruined the people's lives who
lived there, so they could have an unlimited source of water, was
never really discussed in the film.
look absolutely glowing gorgeous.

I mean they made the city
And John Huston got away with

it."
"Wasn't that the point of the movie?"
"Maybe.

Part of it.

But it wasn't accurate.

It didn't go

far enough."
"You expect that from the movies?

Where have you been?

Besides, maybe there just wasn't enough time to tell the whole
story.

Weren't they supposed to make a sequel?"

"They were.
reasons.

And it never got done.

Probably for the same

Because the same people who control Los Angeles,

control the movie studios.
whole truth out.

And they weren't about to let the

Water is the source of all power down there.

And those with the power, run the studios.

You want a permit to

shoot in the streets?

You want access?

You want a license?

Then you'd better be willing to play by their rules.

You only

get one chance."
"So are you worried that's going to happen to your project?"
"No way!

That's why I moved north.

under their control.
stories.

I didn't want to be

I wanted freedom and immunity to tell my

I didn't want to have to depend on their system.

won't this time."
He's gone before she can ask why he called the meeting.

And I

Tyranny of the Downbeat

154
CHAPTER 10

The eskimos had fifty-two names for snow because it was
important to them: there ought to be as many for love.
-- Margaret Atwood
Lend yourself to others, but give yourself to yourself.
-- Michel Montaigne
"I've thought about that."
We sat, sorta-watching "Giants Vision," and trying to talk
above the noise at the "Brew Pub."

I was working through

some more guilt and Jorge was sounding the board.
"I think losing the kids and her loneliness definitely
contributed to her state of mind.

But I've also wondered if

there wasn't something else."
"Which was?"
"Low self-image.

I don't think she was particularly happy

with who she was."
"Except when she was drinking and the alcohol gave her
strength to do and say what she felt."
"I think her weight, the fact we had no money, that she
thought Dad didn't find her attractive anymore, that they had
little in common after we kids had left.
her image of herself pretty low.

I think all that kept

And if anyone said anything to

her, or didn't provide any reinforcement, or any reason to live,
it was easy to become depressed and desperate."
"And from there it was very easy to just give up.

What was

the point."
"What's really scary is that Sandy's got the same problem.
I mean it's amazing how much she and my Mom were alike."

Tyranny of the Downbeat

155

"Don't they say we're always looking for our mother in the
women we marry?"
"They do and I guess I did.
either of them.
problem.

And I didn't make it easy for

I sure don't help Sandy deal with her esteem

I say things or do things that cut her down, even when I

don't mean to do it.

It's just unconscious."

"Always?"
"No, not always.
but I do.

I ask her what's wrong.

And it's true.

and I'll answer for her.

I do.

Someone will ask her a question

I do it all the time."

There's more to it.

She caught me.

Then she tells

She says she's tired of me speaking

"Maybe you were just being you.
"No.

I

She says I talk

I say I'm just making conversation.

me what she really means.
for her.

I shouldn't,

It's like, sometimes she suddenly gets real angry.

can't figure out why.
too much.

But sometimes I get pissed.

The facilitator."

And I know it.

And I don't like being wrong.

She was right.
So I get pissed.

I continue to speak for her, but I'm putting her down as I do.
I'm laughing and making it look like I'm just poking fun at her.
That she's so cute because she acts like she does.
really just cutting her because she hurt me.

But what I'm

And it can get

malicious if I've had too much to drink or I'm really pissed."
"Sounds like something your mom would have done."
"Probably where I got it.

I tell myself I'm doing it to

keep Sandy involved in the situation.

She's obviously not having

any fun and, God knows, we've got to fun.

But then I make her

the object of the conversation, sometimes the butt of the jokes I

Tyranny of the Downbeat

make.

156

They're not nasty, but she becomes the focus.

And I'm

doing it to ingratiate myself with the people we're talking to."
"Why, you don't need their approval."
"Sure I do.

Because it's usually with people we both

consider better than us.

Either they've got more money, or they

were born to a better class.

Whatever.

I'm cutting her down to impress them.

We're both envious.

And

And I don't even like

them."
"Sounds like schoolyard survival.
elementary school?
as high school.

Remember when we were in

Actually I think it probably went back as far

Anyway, we'd always find someone to pick on.

Usually a dumb okie, or a kid with some kind of handicap."
"Yea, and we, in our infinite compassion called them MRs or
cripples."
"Exactly.
them.

And what did we do?

Harassed

Made their life miserable just to impress our friends.

Just to make them laugh.

So we could be a part of the group.

We were cruel so we could be cool.
school.
do.

We picked on them.

And we do it now as adults.

Poke fun at people.

And we did it all through
I mean, it's what comedians

Hold them up to scrutiny.

what you're doing with Sandy.

And that's

You're trying to get the approval

of these people, people who don't really give a fuck about you,
by picking on the only person who really does care about you."
"Pretty fucking stupid."
"Well, a little short-sighted, maybe."
"All I know is that I don't give her enough support, enough
reinforcement."

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157

"But you've always said that you protect her too much.
Isn't that the same thing?"
"I don't know.

All I know is that if she got real

depressed, got down far enough, desperate enough, it wouldn't be
too difficult for her to transition into suicide."
"You think she'd be capable of that?"
"I don't want to find out."
"Don't be so arrogant."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't be so sure of the position you play in her life.

You

may think you're center stage, but you may be barely in the
wings."
There are just some things no one can do alone:
a mob, or a choir, or a regiment.

conspire, be

Or elope.

-- Ranata Adler

Just remember, we're all in this alone.
-- Lily Tomlin
It's her birthday.
would have phoned.

I would have sent a card by now.

I

By then, she would have had too many glasses

of wine, but she would still have been happy to hear from her
number one son.

We would have made small talk.

She would have

repeated herself a number of times, told me things she had just
told me last week or last minute.
these calls.

Timing was everything with

If I caught her too late, it would not be a good

Tyranny of the Downbeat

conversation.

158

I would get angry, trying to browbeat her long

distance into taking better care of herself.
and the call would be over.

She would get upset

And I could avoid the reality of

what was happening for another week.
Then she was dead.

And I could make the comment I had just

made to Jorge; a statement that was true, that I really didn't
mean, but had said anyway.

"I'm glad I don't have a Mother to

have to worry about shopping for, or sending a card to."

I

realized that it didn't come out the way it was supposed to.
"That's not how you feel and you know it."
"I meant I wish she was still here, but I'm glad we didn't
make a big deal out of buying gifts."
"But she always expected one."
"And I always sent her a card.

I think I was the only one

in the whole family who never bought a gift on Father's Day,
Mother's Day, or their birthdays.

Just one more example of how I

wasn't as much a part of the family as I thought.
never there for them.

Especially at the end."

"Why do you keep beating yourself up?
bad?

Why should you feel

She lived her life the way she wanted.

change that.

I was just

Nobody was going to

Not even you."

"She was pretty stubborn."
"And none of us would have ever changed that.
You couldn't stop that.
moving.

You can't stop time.

There are a lot more days ahead.

She died.

You've got to keep

So put your energy

into making those good instead of worrying about what you didn't
do and couldn't help."

Tyranny of the Downbeat

159

For them both--my Mom and Sandy--I had become what the
therapists call a "coalcoholic":

the caretaker, the giver of

hope, the ignorer of oppressive reality.
deadly as their addiction.
need to be needed.

I gave them a fix as

I satisfied their dependency; their

I shot them up with blind faith and

unquestioning support.
I wasn't there when she died.

Typical.

I hadn't spent much

time with her or the rest of the family since Sandy and I got
married and moved away.

We went down for Thanksgiving and

Christmas, then once every month or so.

It was hard, but it was

one of the compromises you make to sustain a marriage.
really didn't know what was going on.
I realize now it was a defense.

So I

I blamed it on Sandy, but

If I ignored the problems--my

Mother's drinking, her health, her behavior--it would go away.
It did.

About a week after she visited us.

I told her she was

drinking too much and refused to make her any more drinks.

It

was easy to be righteous when you didn't have to deal with it
everyday like my Dad and the rest of the family.

I remember my

sisters telling me stories about Dad passing out because he tried
to drink all the booze in the house so she wouldn't have any.

It

was the only way he could tell her no.

He knew she was killing

herself but he just couldn't stop her.

It wasn't in him.

begin to realize how much like him I really am.
in and ignore it than confront it.
stayed away.

I

Easier to give

And that's why I really

When I just talked to them over the phone, I didn't

have to see what was going on, and didn't have to admit it.
wasn't there when her heart stopped.

So I

I wasn't there sitting in

Tyranny of the Downbeat

160

the dining room with the rest of the family while she lay on the
couch, waiting for the ambulance to take her away.
later, after she was already gone.

I arrived

I had avoided it again.

And

I probably would have ducked out of the next few days of mourning
if I could have.
I never cried for her.
I heard him.

Jorge did.

The night of the wake.

And I, the practical, non-nonsense,

always-in-control eldest son, thought he'd had too much beer and
was just throwing up.
It wasn't until months later that I began to deal with some
of the guilt and hurt.

I did, as we usually do, in dreams.

I

was in the living room, sitting on the coffee table by the couch;
the old, broken-down couch with the maple coffee and end-tables.
At her feet was the black and white television.

On one end-table

was her Kleenex, her plastic glass of water, and all her
medicine.

It was here that she went each night to pass out.

After she'd doused the emptiness with alcohol.
have been the night she died.
her.

I had no answer.

believe there was none.
sit there.

I guess it might

She asked me what was happening to

She looked at me as if she couldn't
"Am I dying?" she asked.

I couldn't tell her.

hair was stuck to her forehead.

I could only

She was perspiring.

Her thin

Her eyes were frightened, near

tears.
I couldn't stand it when she cried.

It tore my heart out

every time she and Dad would fight and she'd start.
do it very often.
money.

Kept it bottled up.

She didn't

And it was usually over

She'd want to buy us something, maybe new Easter clothes.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

161

He'd say we didn't have any.

She'd threaten to order it anyway.

He'd say he would take her cards away.

She'd come running into

the family room, crying and blowing her nose with the Kleenex she
always kept handy in the waist-band of her pants.
was only doing it for us kids.

She'd say she

We were too young to know what

was going on, so Dad was always the bad guy.

He'd come into the

dining room and our hard stares would chase him away.
As I sat there, she began to cry.
started to leave.

She touched my arm.

I couldn't handle it.

I

She never did that.

"It's for the best, you know?"
"No, you'll get better.
"No, it won't.
friends.

It'll be okay."

You don't understand.

Your job.

A wife.

You have your

Your whole life.

I don't have

anything."
"You've got Dad.

The cats."

"But I don't have you kids.
moved out, that was it.

It sounded pretty empty.
When your brother finally

You were all gone.

Do you know how

lonely that was?"
"But we were always around.

We came to visit.

We had

Christmas and Easter."
"But you weren't here for me everyday anymore.
take care of you.

Couldn't watch out for you.

lived for, you know.

I couldn't

That's what I

Now it's gone and I'm alone.

I just don't

want to live anymore."
"Come on, Mom.
to live.

You can't just give up.

I know you do."

could offer.

You've got reasons

It was weak, but it was the best I

Tyranny of the Downbeat

162

"You just don't know how lonely it can be.
been independent, a loner.

You can handle it.

You've always
I can't.

And I

don't want to anymore."
There was nothing more I could say.
Just closed her eyes.

And I left her, alone again.

I never had the dream again.
Passed out, alone.

convinced myself.

Inside herself, alone.

She had a full life, I thought.

I

Or

There were always people around, even after

she'd pissed them off.
her.

But I would see her alone.

Waking up, alone.

couldn't understand it.

And then she died.

They loved her and cared deeply about

Yet she was completely alone.

And she died that way.

I guess it's really a lonely world.

Someone once said you

can die from loneliness as surely as you can die from heart
disease.

I remember a writer commenting that it was not possible

for two people to truly know each other.

No matter how close the

husband and wife, the father and son, the lover and beloved, we
are all locked inside ourselves, which says something horrible
about our lack of knowledge, about our hopeless and terrible, and
sadly permanent loneliness.

And something about the loneliness

of the individual trying to find meaning in their isolation.
I guess when all us kids had moved away, she just gave up.
She had no reason to live anymore.
heart failure.

The coroner's report listed

But my Mom really died from the absoluteness of

loneliness.
The Giants went on to lose in the ninth.
the bar bathroom.

And I lost it in

Tyranny of the Downbeat

The news is over.

163

She stands and begins turning off lights.

He says, "I think I'll have another beer and watch
Letterman."
She lets out a sigh with his name, disappointment edged with
anger.
"Hey, I'm not tired yet, okay!

What?

Oh, I see," he grins

but doesn't move any closer to the bedroom.
"It's been weeks," she says.
He turns off the television and slowly follows her into the
bedroom as she slips on the nightgown he bought at "Victoria's
Secret" last Christmas.

But he'll never see how sexy it makes

her look because he's snoring when she returns.
Angrily, Sandy snaps on the bedside light and begins to
read, but she can't see anything through the frustration.
is it?

What's wrong with me?" she screams silently.

"What

"I can't

take it much longer," she vows.
Sex would be more fun if you forty-year-olds weren't so
seriously scared and boringly concerned about length-toperformance and orgasm-to-enjoyment ratios, the baggage of past
lives like ex-lovers and wives, fathers and mothers, priests and
sisters, repressed instead of uninhibited, oblivious to the fact
that when the flaps are down and stay down it reflects on me, and
you can't understand the anger and frustration I feel even though
you pleaded to sleep with me and I can't shout my irritation in
your face because I'm supposed to be supportive and understanding
of your precious ego so you won't have a sexual breakdown in my
bed that might leave you permanently impotent and leave me alone

Tyranny of the Downbeat

164

when the biologic clock is winding down and I want to be sure
that you're not wasting my time.
I dream of a man mutually interested in the joy of pillowing
and not the dreaming pillow before the late night news even
begins, but if I exercise the option to trade I may not get
someone as nice and easy and accommodating, especially at this
point in my life when there's a greater likelihood that I will be
killed by a terrorist than I will remarry, so it's easier to fake
it, hoping things will at last work out, and have someone around
for the summer, because it looks so bad at the beach when you're
alone.
On Friday nights in high school your ears would burn because
we were judging you as we giggled and cried and worried and
whined at slumber parties that now are afternoon lunches of the
"Annie Hall Club" for twice-divorced, newly-divorced, or
in-process divorced women complaining again about you men, and
second-guessing your actions, interpreting your words,
manipulating your feelings, and making you more paranoid about us
than you already are.

Stephan Harrington was a frustrated Hemingway.

He worked as

a journalist to pay for the time he spent writing a novel.
Several of them, actually.

And none of them done.

Because he

talked more about doing it than actually doing it, he was
probably less of a writer than he realized.
him angry.

His frustration made

And that made him a hungry reporter.

gave him clarity.

That hunger

Tyranny of the Downbeat

165

He resembled a refugee from a rock 'n roll carnival.

His

unshaven chin receded into his neck, shrinking as if embarrassed
by its size.

That's why he wore a beard most of the time.

His

hair was thick, but when slicked back, as he usually wore it, it
looked greasy, stringy.

He used to smoke and drink heavily.

He

finally gave them both up so he wouldn't die, but they left their
mark on his voice, which had a whiskey-soaked raspiness.

His

face had a few sandpaper scars from a pimply pubescence.

His

ears were large, so he wore his hair long along the sides and in
back.
All the elements together created an energy, a magnetic
attraction that sucked people into his web.
eyes.

They were small and very black.

you stood and wouldn't let go.

Maybe it was the

But they held you where

And then there was the crooked,

mocking smile, as if only he heard the last laugh in the cosmic
scheme of things.
We first met in college while taking communication classes.
It came easy to him.

I had to work at it.

other and made a good team.

But we liked each

We became friends.

He still lived

in Davis, choosing to drive the few miles to Sacramento instead
of living in a town that was beginning to get out of control.
Steph had started as the night police reporter for the
"Sacramento Record" when he turned 20.

He liked the beat because

it reminded him of his days as a "carny".
street.

A walk down sleazy

Eventually, his nightly rounds burned him out.

But his

time there gave him a healthy cynicism, a spare style, and his
own by-line.

"Alta California" examined anything to do with

Tyranny of the Downbeat

166

Northern California, its people, and lifestyles.

One of his

favorite topics, one that occasioned at least one article a week,
was the "politics of water" in California.
He wrote about "water grabs."

He wrote about dams.

He

wrote about "the big ditch," otherwise known as the Peripheral
Canal.

He wrote about subsidized water and "the hydrologic

ballet".

He also wrote about The League.

So it was no surprise

when a series of articles on the pollution at Masterson, and its
connection to The League, began running under his by-line.

And

it was no less surprising when he started receiving prank calls
and anonymous threats.

He figured most of them were probably

coming from local farmers who were afraid of losing their cheap
water.

He knew because he'd written about them.

And, like a

cornered animal, they'd go to any length to protect their own.
In one of his articles, an interview with a valley farmer
made the situation quite clear.

"Any regulation of groundwater

or surface water, from rivers or dams, means me, and most other
farmers, would have to cut back on production or turn to
different crops.

Some of us would definitely go out of business.

Out here in the desert, when you lose your water, you lose your
farm.

You lose your farm, you lose your livelihood.

your family and, eventually, you lose your life.

You lose

It's simply a

matter of our survival."
Harrington had closed the article with an analogy to the
"Dust Bowlers" of the 1920s and 1930s.
farms had turned to dust and blown away.
least had some place to go.

Without water, those
But those farmers at

They could head West.

The farmers

Tyranny of the Downbeat

167

in the West had no place to go.
the Coast and the ocean.

The only thing West of them was

Full of water, yes.

But also full of

salt.
The day after the article ran, he received a small token of
appreciation from a nameless benefactor.

A strangled duck, its

neck snapped in a hangman's noose, dangled from his front porch.
A scrap of paper was pinned to its wing.

It read, "Must be the

water."
In another article, Harrington interviewed a leader of the
"stop-the-canal" campaign; a businessman who talked off the
record about how dirty a war over water in California can get.
"The business community in southern California has made the
business community in northern California extremely paranoid.
One company, a large manufacturer based in San Francisco, was
told, 'If you want to sell any more product south of San Jose,
you'd better not take an anti-canal position.'

Because

contributions are identifiable and trackable, everyone in the
business community up north is afraid they're going to be found
out and blacklisted down south."
Another businessman drew the following analogy, "It's like a
Banana Republic election, where the houses of the opposition
candidates miraculously and unexplainably catch fire."
Harrington had a source that, in a gesture of unjustifiable
self-importance, he dubbed "Deep Water," intending to link
himself to those other, well-known investigative journalists.
loved running up the Watergate flag any chance he could.
He and I had been talking since Elliot had first signed me

He

Tyranny of the Downbeat

on.

I knew he had stories he couldn't run.

168

Either because his

editors felt they were too explosive to publish or because there
wasn't sufficient confirmation to run them.
file full.

He said he had a

In a strange and ironic twist, we both realized he

would be my "Deep Throat."
DISSOLVE:
MUSIC CHANGE:

UP FULL THEN UNDER

THEME #10: "California Here I Come"/"California Blues"
59
MONTAGE
AERIAL SHOTS of California places and people.
NARRATOR (v.o.)
This is California. It has more people than
the entire population of Canada. An economy
richer than all but seven nations in the
world. It grows one-third of all the table
food in the United States. Sales of
California farm products
reached $15.6 billion last year. California
farmers have led the nation in agriculture
for twenty-five years. And none of it
remotely conceivable within the pre-existing
natural order.
60

EXT. VALLEY FIELDS - ESTABLISHING SHOT

AERIAL SHOT of Central Valley factory fields.
of cultivated acreage.

Miles upon miles

This is the valley. The business that makes
it so unique and so powerful is industrial
agriculture. Modern chemical farming. The
billboards of the Production Credit
Association don't call agriculture "farming."
They call it California's "number one
industry."
61

MONTAGE

Shots of agricultural activity.
The three top-producing farming counties in

Tyranny of the Downbeat
the nation are in the San Joaquin Valley.
Agriculture uses 85 percent of
all the water used in California and it's as
dependent on irrigation as ancient
Mesopotamia and Egypt.
CONTINUE MONTAGE.
Technology--irrigation, fertilizers,
pesticides, and sophisticated machinery--is
the invisible warp that holds the
natural weave in place. And it is a
lucrative weave. A single county, producing
tomatoes, peaches, apricots, almonds,
walnuts, peppers, grapes, melons, and
cherries, yields up to $5,000 profit an acre
compared to $10 or $20 an acre for Kansas
wheat.
62

CONTINUE MONTAGE.

Shots of fields and workers at The Marriposa Combine.
The Valley supports thousands of family farms
and a handful of mammoth agribusinesses. The
largest 15 percent of these farms soak up 83
percent of irrigation benefits from public
projects.
63

CONTINUE MONTAGE.

Shots of large factory farms.
Farmers using State Water Project and Central
Valley Project water include some of
America's biggest corporations. Chevron has
50,000 acres, Tenneco 53,000, Getty Oil
41,000, the Southern Pacific Land Co. 38,000,
J.G. Boswell 95,000 acres, and the Tejon
Ranch Co. 41,000 acres.
64

MONTAGE

Shots of farming activity.
Today, the farmland in California, and much
of the rest of the nation, belongs to the
corporations. To the oil companies and
railroads and their stockholders, who never
see it and certainly never work it. It

169

Tyranny of the Downbeat

170

doesn't belong to the farmer's children or
their children after that.
CONTINUE MONTAGE.
Central Valley agriculture may be the most
energy-intensive agriculture the world has
ever known. It is pumps, using more power
than dams can generate, carrying water 400
miles from its source.
CONTINUE MONTAGE.
It is bulldozers. Trucks and trains carrying
produce 3,000 miles. Rice being shipped to
Japan. It is fossil fuelbased fertilizer, the staple of Valley crops.
Automated picking equipment, gasoline-powered
drying equipment. Pesticides and herbicides.
65

EXT. FIELD - ESTABLISHING SHOT

GROUND LEVEL SHOT of aerial spraying.
follow shot from second plane.

INTERCUT pilot's POV and

California agriculture is also chemicaldependent. Of all the pesticides produced in
the United States, California uses about 30
percent. Over 500 million tons of pesticides
are applied to the fields of California each
year. More than any other state. That's one
billion dollars a year in chemicals.
66

MONTAGE

Shots of pesticides being applied to fields in variety
of locations.
Although many new pesticides are less persistent and
more specific, some are also more mobile, more water soluble, and
more acutely toxic.
CONTINUE MONTAGE.
They leach into groundwater, endanger those
who work in sprayed fields, and leave
residues on fruits, vegetables, and
grain, despite washing and processing. The
dangers are considered so grave that the EPA
has catapulted pesticides to the top of its

Tyranny of the Downbeat
list of problem pollutants.
wastes.
67

171
Above toxic

MONTAGE

Shots of industrial agriculture.
In the eyes of those who are critical about
agribusiness and corporate farming, the new
American farmer is fast forgetting the old
rule about putting more back into the soil
than he takes out of it. Of being a good
steward of the land.
CONTINUE MONTAGE.
It's a bit of the devil's bargain. In
exchange for using $3 billion worth of
pesticides yearly, American farmers reap $12
billion worth of crops that might otherwise
be lost to weeds and insects.
CONTINUE MONTAGE.
Without the chemicals, millions of people
might face food shortages. On the other
hand, less than one percent of the poisons
reach their target.
CONTINUE MONTAGE.
Worldwide, the compounds fatally poison an
estimated 10,000 people a year and injure
400,000 more. Uncounted millions
more may be at increased risk for cancer,
reproductive problems, and birth defects due
to low-level, chronic exposure.
MUSIC:

UP FULL THEN OUT

BREAK POINT IN DOCUMENTARY

Tyranny of the Downbeat

172
CHAPTER 11

Breathes there a man with a soul so dead who never to
himself has said: "Someday I'm going to show them."?
-- Richard Reeves
It's late Sunday night, actually Monday morning.

You turn

on the TV and start playing Russian roulette with the remote
control.

You drift through the channels.

You stop.

You see a

handsome man, casually dressed in loose tropical clothes, with
the blue ocean and white waves crashing behind him.
smiling.

He's

He seems comfortable, in control, satisfied.

He's

talking with a young man who sits in a chair next to him.
They're talking about foreclosures.
The scene changes to a series of interviews, each praising
someone named James.
simple.

Any ordinary man can do it."

packed auditorium.
shouts:

"If you follow what James says, it's real
The program shifts to a

A giant banner stretching across one wall

"FOLLOW YOUR DREAMS WITH JAMES DAVID DELGADO."

audience chants:

"WE CAN DO IT!

WE CAN DO IT!

The

WE CAN DO IT!"

As the noise builds, the public address system booms:

"The

National Foundation for Independent Living presents America's
number one cash flow expert.
wealth and better living!

Television's consumer advocate of

The deacon of no money down!

James

David Delgado!"
The camera swivels to catch a man as he runs through the
packed room and up on stage.
he's still smiling.
suit.

It's the man from the tropics and

This time he's dressed in a double-breasted

Riding on the back of their expectant cheers, he launches

Tyranny of the Downbeat

173

into his sermon on success.

He is the best of a new breed known

as real estate evangelists.
At 38, he's set for life.
Most of the other gurus didn't.

He survived the roller coaster.
Now he's consolidating his power

by buying as much air time as he can get and by looking into new
arenas.
Delgado didn't always like himself or the way he looked.
does now.
weight.
frame.

And he works hard to maintain it.

He

Especially his

It comes easily to his solidly-built, thick-waisted
He wears a small, neatly trimmed mustache, and hair

fashionably long, just beginning to bald.
seen often as he flashes a ready smile.

His teeth are even and
At work, or during his

seminars, he wears hand-made silk suits.

At home, he wears

casual, but expensive, resort clothing.

Home is the Kahala

district of Honolulu.

He likes gold and wears lots of it:

watch, rings, and necklaces.
He has a smooth, somewhat high-pitched voice.

He speaks

with a light valley accent, which means it has a little midwest,
a little Texas, and a little south of the border.

His sing-song

delivery is his attempt at sincerity, courtesy of bad direction
and little practice.
When Delgado talks, he uses his hands, like any good
Italian.

He punches the air like Stallone.

But, like his

message, the gestures seem a little too practiced, a little too
contrived.

It's often been said that if something seems too good

to be true, it probably is.
Delgado and his teachings.

Many think that's especially true of

Tyranny of the Downbeat

174

Although wealthy, he's not worldly.

He still exhibits many

of the simple habits and traits of his childhood.
the insularity, the trusting naivetÕ.
seem so friendly.

But that's what makes him

He makes you feel comfortable.

you don't mind being around.

Particularly

He's someone

For someone so successful, he

doesn't seem to be the least bit intimidating.
The only boy in a family of three children, Delgado's two
sisters led uneventful lives, marrying right out of high school.
One is still married and teaching.

The other, divorced twice

already, manages a record store in Ralston.

He, his parents, and

his sisters all get along well enough now that they've come to
terms.

He used some of his first million to atone; to make up

for his early rebellion, to take care of his guilt by buying his
parents a ranch near Ralston.
Delgado doesn't talk too much about his Father or his
childhood.

Reading between the lines, you see a strict father

with a volatile, sometimes violent, temper.

His parents fought a

lot and would sometimes take it out on him.

He rebelled, fell in

with wrong crowd, and became a "hood" in high school.
through most of his adolescence.
interest was athletics.
baseball.

He partied

The only thing that kept his

He was good at most, but excelled at

A scholarship to the University of Texas gave him his

exit visa.
Texas was another world.
distance, time, and emotion.
to personify the redneck.

It was light years away in
This was an era when Texans seemed

Though Delgado wasn't a "goat-roper,"

as the panhandle cowboys loved to call hippies, he was definitely

Tyranny of the Downbeat

175

not a native son of the Lone Star State.
was fine.

When he played ball, he

Everything else sucked, including his studies.

Midway

through his second year, he dropped out and returned to Ralston.
He became a student at Ralston Community College.

Having

lost baseball, and now totally alienated from his family and
disappointed in himself, he started partying again.
drugs for a while, mostly to himself.

He sold

His business was growing,

getting pretty big, until he bumped heads with the Mafia.
gave him two choices.

Get out of the business or die.

decided it was time for something completely different.

They

He
He spent

the next two years studying the Bible to become a minister for
the Jehovah's Witnesses.

Delgado married a woman he met there.

They had two children, one boy and one girl.

Now, she helps run

the business.
During those years, many of his friends got out of school
and began making a life for themselves.

Delgado noticed that

some, especially those who became real estate agents, were doing
extremely well.

He decided to get his license.

He opened a real

estate office in the resort area of Pine Crest, above the old
gold rush town of Sonora, 56 miles east of his Ralston home.

The

more he sold, the more he realized he could do better buying
property and becoming a landlord.

Within three years, he had

purchased several houses, apartment units, and office buildings
in, or near, Pine Crest and Ralston.
He got hooked.
was money and power.

This time it wasn't alcohol or drugs.

It

To earn a little extra, he became a part

of a growing trend just starting in real estate:

the

Tyranny of the Downbeat

176

"no-money-down" circuit.

He worked first as an adviser and then

as a seminar instructor.

As he studied, he found that a lot of

property was being foreclosed on and sold at minimum price.

He

started attending sales and auctions of foreclosed property and
re-possessed merchandise.

His personal wealth exploded and the

tentacles of his empire reached beyond Ralston.
Early in his indentured career, Delgado was first introduced
to the device that would put him over the top; that would take
his message to a much larger audience:

Television.

He began

producing a series of "infomercials," or long-form commercials.
They aired late at night and early in the morning on cable
television.

It was a new form of communication and distribution.

The cable companies got much-needed advertising revenue and the
suppliers of the programming were able to air what were basically
half-hour, or hour-long, commercials promoting them and their
products.
Quickly realizing the potential for additional wealth and
independence, Delgado kicked off a series of seminars using his
own name and his own information.

With the exposure he got from

TV, it wasn't long before he was reaching a larger audience.

The

money began to seriously roll in as he sold books and videotapes
promoting the potential profit of cash flow and no money down.
There were obviously a lot of insomniacs out there interested in
becoming entrepreneurs.
During the time between his return to Ralston and his
arrival at the top, two emotions drove Delgado:
revenge.

Two sides of the same coin.

envy and

He was born and raised on

Tyranny of the Downbeat

177

the "wrong side of the tracks."

All those cliches.

were cliches because they were true.

But they

He had tried to get out, to

break through, but too many doors were closed to him.
blocked by the "better people" in town.
bitches".

The "golf and racquet club" set.

through with sports.

But that didn't work.

drugs, eventually to Jesus.
his upbringing.
estate.

The "RBs."

Doors
The "rich

He almost broke
He tried alcohol and

And still he couldn't break free of

He finally found a new god:

And it took him all the way.

the cult of real

To wealth, power, and

influence.
Now he's among Ralston's number one sons.

Adopted, perhaps,

in the way that city fathers have of recognizing their mistakes
and welcoming wayward children back in the face of generous
largess.
own.

Now he's proudly boasted of and claimed as one of their

And it was time for the big pay-back.
"Don't get mad, get even" is a well-worn rallying cry in

this society of rampant status and unchecked ambition.

In an

interview once, Delgado spoke of another phrase that worked
better for him.

"Don't get popular, get even," he said.

"I

remember reading this book about high school a few years back.
In it, they talked with a man much like me who said, 'I can't
deny that I spent a certain amount of my adult life trying to
show the people I went to high school with that I was more than
what they perceived me to be during those four years.

No, I

didn't have the money or the status some of them had.

But I did

have the brains and the Machiavellian mind to survive them all.
And I used those gifts to achieve a certain amount of success.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

178

I wasn't totally unhappy in high school, but I knew that I wanted
to be better when I grew up.

I wanted to achieve the wealth,

power, and status I wasn't born with.
myself to do that.'

And I could only rely on

I could definitely relate to that."

In the same interview, he talked about how he had been
looked down upon by some of his classmates.

When asked if it

bothered him, he answered,, and the anger was visible behind the
words, "They really hurt me.

And I swore I would never, ever be

stepped on by those people again.

If they didn't like me then,

they sure as hell were going to hate me now.

But I'd have their

attention."
He had spent a lot of time coldly thinking and patiently
plotting his revenge; to pay back the class of people that had
rejected him.

And through the years, he had methodically and

anonymously ruined a number of them and their families.

Now that

he had the money--more than he or his children could ever
spend--the success, the power, and the influence, he just wanted
legitimacy and respectability.
his final revenge, all at once.
influence.

He would have those things, and
Against the people born to

Ralston's ruling class.

Vanderwalls, the DiGiulios.

The Delancys, the

All of them.

They were listening now and he was preparing for the big
pay-back.

He had the motive.

He just needed the opportunity.

Something was desperately wrong.
iced down.

The entire system had been

Each time they brought it up, as soon as they started

to log on, it went down.

The director of information services

Tyranny of the Downbeat

179

was shaking; his eyes straining with panic.
spite of the frigidly cold room.
but nothing like this.
thought.

He was sweating in

He had seen logic bombs before,

"Must be covering his tracks," he

"Slipped a parasite in, sucked us dry of the

information he needed, and disappeared somewhere in the system."
The implosion was surreal.

They all scattered.

The screen

of the status display monitor had suddenly turned supple; the
hard surface rippled inward like a wave then shattered into the
room.

That was it.

"Shut it down!

Now!"

Outside, in the blistering heat of a summer's day, the
company trucks of the Westlands Water and Power League continued
to hum in and out of the driveway.

Elliot was stunned by the amount of the check.

The masthead

read, "The National Foundation for Independent Living."
address was Ralston.

The

The cover letter stated that the foundation

believed in the work Elliot was doing and would like to help
contribute to its success.

The letter and the check were both

signed by the controller of the corporation.
who or what the foundation was or did.

Elliot had no idea

He assumed the "work" it

referred to was the documentary.
Recognizing the confused look, Janet explained.
obviously don't watch much insomniac television.

"You

If you did,

you'd know the foundation is part of James David Delgado's real
estate empire."
"I remember reading something about him in 'Money' or 'Inc.'
Pretty wealthy guy."

Tyranny of the Downbeat

180

"Very."
"What do you think?

I mean, how legitimate can a guy like

this be?"
"Depends on what he's got to gain."
"I'm not sure.

This is a lot of money.

I don't know him

well enough to trust him or trust where this money came from.
Besides, I understand he's got major political ambitions."
"Maybe that's why he's throwing around that kind of money.
Trying to find a launch pad.

There have been plenty of

opportunists before him."
"Well, let's at least give him a chance to tell us about
it."

Neither one was intimidated by the other.
of two men who had succeeded on their own terms.

It was a meeting
Elliot was

finding it hard to dislike the personable man sitting across from
him.
"Had you known who it was, would you have taken my
money?"
"I'd have thought about it."
"Right.

Do you need the money?"

"It helps buy independence."
"You want to tell the story, don't you?"
"Of course."
"Well, so do I.

I've seen what's happening to our planet.

To the wildlife and the environment.

Especially to our water."

Elliot cocked an eyebrow because his tone didn't ring true.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

181

"And if you happen to benefit politically from what I reveal?"
"It wouldn't hurt.

I intend to run for office.

of the worst kept secrets around.
an event.

That's one

But I need an issue.

I need

I need something to put me in front of the public.

And this could be it."
"IF I decide to cooperate?"
"Of course.

I would like to think that we could work

together toward something that was mutually beneficial."
"I'll be honest with you.
your politics.

I don't trust you.

And I don't know your motives.

what I've read and heard.

I don't know

All I know is

And that's not real flattering or

convincing."
"My closets are open.
decision.

Do your digging.

But I'll tell you one thing.

people my entire life.

Then make your

I've watched these

They stepped on my parents.

And on me.

I wasn't good enough to associate with their daughters.
screwed me.

They

All my life they told me one thing and did another.

You can understand that.

It's sort of like what Hollywood did to

you, isn't it?"
"Maybe."
"Look, it's a reason as old as time.
it any less real o powerful for me.
will have it.

But that doesn't make

I want my revenge.

And I

With or without you."

Elliot leans back and crosses his arms to fully appreciate
the rest of the sermon.
"The way I see it, it's do unto others time.
things.

Besides, it's my home town.

For a lot of

And it's your town, too.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

It's what I know.

182

What we both know.

It's shaped us both.

are what we are because of that town and its people.
tired of what's happening to it and the entire valley.
become a company town.

DiGiulio's town.

Their town.

We

And, I'm
It's
And that

bothers me."
"I can go along with all of that.
this project, I'm not sure of right now.
it.

No promises."

What your money means to
So let me think about

Elliot starts to push the check back across

the desk.
Delgado holds up his hand.
check until you're satisfied.

"None expected.

You'll find that I have never

promoted anything illegal, unethical, or immoral.
will.

Just check it out.

Just keep the

And I never

I have a feeling we'll be working

together on this one."
"If I decide to take your money, what role do you plan to
play?"
"Consider me a resource.
information.

I'll provide money, contacts, and

How you handle it once you get it from me is

entirely up to you."
"No strings?"
"None."
"No interference?"
"Would you have it any other way?"
"There is no other way."
"Fine.

Then let's spend our energy on selling the truth."

"I can live with that."
Janet.

Elliot passed the check over to

Tyranny of the Downbeat

DISSOLVE:
MUSIC CHANGE: UP FULL THEN UNDER
THEME #11: Minor Key Synthesizer Piece
68

INT. LAB - MEDIUM

Shot of EPA lab testing hazardous pesticides.
NARRATOR (v.o.)
The EPA's program to regulate hazardous
pesticides falls under the Federal
Insecticide, Fungicide, and Rodenticide
Act--FIFRA. But it has been manacled by
internal resistance, lack of funding,
pressure from agricultural interests in
Congress, and lack of committed, trained
staff. As a result, it has dealt with less
than one percent of the five hundred
pesticide ingredients suspected of causing
cancer.
CONTINUE SEQUENCE.
A controversial 1972 amendment to the Federal
Insecticide, Fungicide, and Rodenticide Act
required the government to reimburse the
maker of any pesticide that was taken off the
market as a health hazard. The cost of the
reimbursement was often prohibitive, usually
running into the millions of dollars. As a
result, the EPA has been reluctant to take
such action.
CONTINUE SEQUENCE.
And even when the EPA declares a chemical
safe, can its decision be trusted? One
reason for the uncertainty is that many of
the products were approved 20 or 30 years
ago, when toxicology was less sophisticated
than it is today. Another is that some 200
pesticide ingredients were approved based on
data from one testing lab that were later
found to be fraudulent.
69

EXT. FIELD - WIDE SHOT

Tractor sprays field.

183

Tyranny of the Downbeat
Still other hazardous pesticides are
protected today because they have been in use
for decades. They were allowed to stay on
the market by "grandfather" rights. Even
though many do not meet current safety
standards.
70

ECU OF SPRAYING
Of the six most dangerous chemicals
identified in California's 1985 Little Hoover
Commission, review of pesticide
use, two--toxaphane and EDB--are no longer
sold in this state. However, four other
chemicals--C-3 compounds, arsenicals, and
rice herbicides--are used extensively in
California and elsewhere.

71

MONTAGE

Different application of pesticides.
The frightening thing is we cannot see or
taste or feel the poisons. We have only
begun to learn how to design tests to
determine whether they are present and in
what concentrations, let alone the effects of
those concentrations on human life.
CONTINUE MONTAGE.
We know that no one, in or out of government,
seems to have the slightest idea what to do.
We know that public
disclosure and outrage hasn't stopped
anything. And we have no idea when we will
start paying the physical and emotional
prices for the damage that has been done.
72

EXT. FIELD - ESTABLISHING SHOT

Shot of tomato harvest.
Typically, the concentration of pesticides in
groundwater and on produce is a few parts per
billion. Some
scientists scoff that this is too little to
worry about. These experts claim people are
getting way too scared about very tiny
amounts of chemicals. The counter argument
is that no amount of a

184

Tyranny of the Downbeat
carcinogen is "safe." Especially since most
fungicides now on the market are known to
cause cancer or birth defects or both.
73

MONTAGE

Shots of handling and applying pesticides.
We are an integral element of the
environment. Current ways of handling
pesticides are spectacular examples of
ignoring this reality. The EPA's pesticide
regulations and the practices of farmers
assume that complex, persistent organic
molecules can be carefully deposited on one
part of a farmer's acreage at a particular
point in a growing cycle without becoming
incorporated into human food chains.
CONTINUE MONTAGE.
This attitude overlooks such things as windinduced drift, soil residues, runoff into
streams, mistimed applications, deliberate
violations of regulations, and mislabeling
errors. All of these ensure that a
significant fraction of the total
volume of pesticides applied in this country
ends up being ingested by human beings.
74

MONTAGE

Stock shots, file footage, and newspaper articles on asbestos
and other occupational cancers.
We are only forty years into the
petrochemical age and the warning signs are
everywhere. The relationship between
exposure to a wide range of petrochemical
carcinogens and an extensive array of
occupational cancers are well documented.
And such studies are still in their infancy.
CONTINUE MONTAGE.
Recent reports suggest that the
concentrations of dibenzofurans, a breakdown
product of PCBs, have had a
significant effect in reducing the sterility
of American males. Other studies indicate
that the average urban child carries much

185

Tyranny of the Downbeat

186

higher levels of body lead than was
previously thought. And
these levels are often associated with
measurable declines in IQ and other
intelligence measures.
75

MONTAGE

Shots of fishermen and duck hunters.
Many of the chemicals released into the
environment by modern technology possess the
property of concentrating in body
tissues. Of bioaccumulating. So predators
higher up the food chain, including humans,
may end up with millions of times as much of
a given halogenated hydrocarbon as the
environment at large.
CONTINUE MONTAGE.
What is much less well known are the ways in
which these different pollutants interact
within the body and the external environment.
And what new and untested breakdown products
they may generate.
76

EXT. CAVE - MEDIUM SHOT

Shots of fresh water in underground caves and grottos.
Human exposure to cancer-causing substances
sometimes does not manifest itself in
observable symptoms for decades. These "time
bombs" may go on in our reservoirs and wells
and inside our bodies long after we have
discovered them.
MUSIC:

UP FULL THEN OUT

MUSIC: UP FULL THEN UNDER
THEME #12: Ominous Synthesizer Piece
DISSOLVE
77

EXT. CHEMICAL COMPANY- ESTABLISHING SHOT

WIDE SHOT of CARL POPE in front of OxyGene's corporate
headquarters.
CARL POPE

Tyranny of the Downbeat

187

All of the chemicals we depend upon to
survive in this modern, chemically-dependent
world are controlled by a small but powerful
segment of society. A network of industrial
corporations.
78

MONTAGE

Shots of exteriors and interiors of chemical companies.
shots, manufacturing, disposal.

Lab

POPE (v.o.)
Companies characterized by extremely short
time-horizons. Companies with a very limited
sense of responsibility. The result.
Inefficiency, malfeasance, and recklessness.
An attitude where all consequences of what
they do are measured by the immediate impact
on shareholder profits.
CONTINUE MONTAGE.
Corporate America has shown laxity, to the
point of criminal negligence, in soiling the
land and adulterating the
water with its toxins.
79

MONTAGE

News footage showing late-night toxic dumpers, canisters of
toxic waste, leaking storage facilities.
Industry's treatment of water has been
scandalous and frequently immoral. Those
corporations that have abused this essential
substance of human life have willingly and
knowingly taken the most dangerous
concoctions that their chemists have
perfected and used them in one or another
process.
CONTINUE MONTAGE.
They have then taken the leftovers and
routinely dumped them into rivers and
aquifers. And thus into humans' drinking
water supplies and their bodies. And, it is
quite likely, into the lives of their unborn
children. Some of these industries and their
hired hands--lawyers, lobbyists, local,
state, and federal officials--have then

Tyranny of the Downbeat
conspired to keep the public from knowing
what they have done.
80

MONTAGE.

Continue shots of interior and exteriors shots of chemical
companies.
It's hard to imagine a more dangerous
guardian for this "Pandora's Box". In
ancient mythology, "Pandora's Box" was
filled with the seeds of all the troubles and
blessings of existence. It also offered
lasting virtue and hope.
CONTINUE MONTAGE.
This conjures up frightening images. Images
of the "wrong people" in control of something
that is absolutely essential to human life.
Water. And its quality.
CONTINUE MONTAGE
The "wrong people" are members of the
petroleum cartel. The leaders of the
agrichemical industry. And the other
stalwarts of this great American free
enterprise system that have shown such
contempt for the environment.
CONTINUE MONTAGE.
The opportunities for corruption, abuse,
political and economic gain are limitless.
81

EXT. OXYGENE - MEDIUM SHOT

CARL POPE stands in front of OxyGene's corporate headquarters.
CARL POPE
We know that economics will be the
determining factor in the future. The best
we can do is try to keep that control out of
the hands of the "wrong people." But, even
an extraordinary effort, started immediately,
cannot achieve protection for the American
public for years to come.
MUSIC:

UP FULL THEN OUT

AS NARRATOR EXITS, CAMERA ZOOMS INTO CLOSE UP OF OXYGENE LOGO.

188

Tyranny of the Downbeat

189

BREAK POINT IN DOCUMENTARY
OxyGene's Carver Labs is housed in an old brick building.
It sits on a dusty country road outside Ralston.

The head

researcher is a man named James Ulysses Daedalus.

For years,

the lab had been responsible for developing a line of several new
products for agribusiness.
pesticides.

Some were fertilizers, most were

All were very effective.

One of the labs most

generous benefactors was the DiGiulio Winery.

It had funded a

number of projects over the years and was currently underwriting
the development of a powerful pesticide; a nematocide designed to
eradicate the worms that fed on young grape stalks.
There had been rumors in recent years, unconfirmed, that
this lab had been testing the toxicity of pesticides, not on
laboratory animals, but on real people.
used were being paid to participate.
But it was extra income.

The illegal aliens they

For what, they didn't know.

And, if they suspected anything, they

wouldn't report it because they'd be deported.
Pat Walsh and I thought the unconfirmed reports needed some
checking.
In talking with Daedalus, I recognized the type of man who
has been a part of our culture since ancient times.
artist-scientist.

The

That curiously disinterested, almost diabolic

human phenomenon, working beyond the normal bounds of social
judgment, dedicated to the morals not of his time, but of his
art.

The hero of a way of thought, he is single hearted and full

of faith that the truth as he finds it outweighs all else and

Tyranny of the Downbeat

190

shall make us free.
I reached back for my mythology.

"Daidalos."

The Greek

adjective for "cunningly wrought" and "skillfully made".
Daedalus was a cunning, clever artificer who was taught by Athena
to be skilled in handicrafts.

He was later condemned because he

treacherously murdered his talented assistant because he was
envious of the youth and realized that his fame would soon
surpass that of his teacher.

In exile, he turned his mind to

unknown skills and changed nature.

It was he who built the

labyrinth to trap the minotaur; it was he who fashioned wings to
escape the labyrinth, only to have his son fly too close to the
sun and plummet into the sea.
The more we talked, the more obvious it became that Daedalus
was a firm believer in the phrase:

"Better living through

chemistry."
The woman standing next to him is his assistant.
is Barbra Sue Darwin.

Her name

To anyone seduced by her looks, it's a

wonderful surprise to find that she's also intelligent--a degree
in bio-chemistry from Berkeley--and charming.

She reminded me

of all those women of the Sixties; the ones we lustfully called
"bra-less, Berkeley, hippie-chicks".

The perfect woman, except

for her devotion to Daedalus.
Beyond the cursory standard tour, which revealed nothing,
Daedalus nor Darwin offered much in the way of time or
information.

Pat, ever the conspirator, had spent most of his

time sizing up the security.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

191
CHAPTER 12

History is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake.
-- James Joyce
Mirrors would do well to think before they cast their
reflections back at us.
-- Jean Cocteau
Flying low along highway 99, one of the few things that
makes a mark on the endlessly flat valley landscape are the
hundred or so white, cylindrical tanks running alongside a dry
creekbed.

They are part of a huge complex that looks like it

should be in Houston or Bahrain.
with crude or unleaded fuel.

But the tanks aren't filled

They're filled with Chardonnay,

Cabernet, and ghetto white lightning.

One of the largest

wineries in the world is headquartered here.

It runs this town.

And much of the valley running north and south.

The man in

charge doesn't like having his winery compared to a refinery.
But then he doesn't like much of anything, except manipulating
people and making money.

His name is Robert DiGiulio, founder

and owner of DiGiulio Winery.

He is The Padrone.

The most

influential winemaker in the United States, perhaps the world.
Next to Baron Philippe de Rothschild or Robert Mondavi, he has
probably influenced more people's decisions about wine than
anyone.

He relishes the power, the control.

He's worked hard

to get it and maintain it.
At first glance, The Padrone looks much like a teddy bear
Godfather.

He's a large man, but not fat.

six feet, and straight.

He stands tall, over

Most of his hair is gone, except at the

sides, which is brown with streaks of gray.

He wears a moustache

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192

which is now entirely gray.

His eyes are dark-brown, almost

black, but unlike dark-eyed people, his shine brightly.

What you

notice immediately is that his head and hands seem larger than
normal.

Not too large for his body, not deformed, just big.

For a 77-year-old, he's in remarkably good shape and still
very strong physically.

Just shake hands with him.

Probably

because he takes in moderation the pasta of his inheritance and
the wine of his legacy.
in the fields.

And because he spends most of his days

He has a slight limp, courtesy of a cheap hit

taken by a smaller linebacker during one of the first high school
football games held in the valley.
existence by carrying a cane.

He refuses to acknowledge its

Only in the last few years has he

finally accepted the inevitable and begun wearing glasses to
read.

He dresses well, in conservative and traditional

double-breasted pin stripes at the office and work boots, Levi's,
work shirt, and straw hat in the fields.
DiGiulio lives in a splendid home he erected along the creek
east of town.

Far enough out that a growing population wouldn't

reach him for decades, yet close enough to the winery to have
lunch at home.

When he designed and built his estate along the

banks of John Muir Creek, The Padrone had hoped to capture and
transport a piece of his heritage.

He and his wife had spent

several weeks touring the Piedmont region of Italy, searching for
a villa they could purchase.

When they found it, they had it

painstakingly taken apart, each piece numbered, then shipped to
California where it was re-assembled.

Where once there was an

empty grape field, surrounded by walnut and eucalyptus trees,

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193

there soon stood a magnificent Mediterranean villa.
In the garden, in homage to his heritage and the source of
his wealth, to his humble beginnings, he planted two grape vines
from the original family vineyard, one each for his father
and mother.

No one was allowed to touch these vines.

He

personally saw to their care; fertilizing them, pruning them,
harvesting their fruit.

He often talked to them, as if each had

absorbed the spirit of the person they were dedicated to.
Sometimes, when he was especially troubled, he would simply sit
and stare at them.

During those moments of introspective

reverie, the only person allowed near, and this was at a some
distance, was his personal bodyguard.

A precaution for a man who

had become paranoid and jealous of his mortality.

It was here he

often made the decisions that would affect his winery and his
valley.
Robert DiGiulio was born in the California Mother Lode town
of Sutter Creek, the son of Italian immigrants.

They had come to

California early in this century, like many others, seeking
opportunities they could not find in their native land.
father, Julio, prospered.

His

He soon had enough money to buy some

land in the San Joaquin Valley, near Ralston, where Robert and
his brother David grew up.
wine grapes on his new land.

He planted vineyards of table and
The business started slowly, but

his hard work soon showed a small profit.

The elder DiGiulio

kept the original ranch and bought more land closer in to
Ralston.
vineyards.

There, he built a house and planted still more

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194

The same ambition that had driven his father to this country
inspired Robert, while still in high school, to learn more about
the family business; how to tend the vines and get the grapes to
market.

By then, the feeble attempt to legislate public morality

known as Prohibition had begun.

In the beginning, the small

grape growers, like the DiGiulios, were hit hard.

The family

business, like so many others at the time, nearly failed.
Robert's father, an idealist and optimist, had trouble dealing
with the reality.

A short time later, he and his wife died in an

auto accident while driving through thick tule fog on their way
home from a wedding celebration in Vernalis.
Neither Robert nor David ever discussed the death of their
parents.

When pressed for an explanation, they would lash out at

the interrogator, shouting it was none of their, or anyone's,
business.

It was a personal matter; a closed door.

The reason

for their overreaction was that some suspected that it may have
been suicide.

That Julio DiGiulio had veered off the foggy road

and into the river running alongside the road to escape the
failure he faced.
dealt with.

It was a deep wound the brothers had never

Or investigated.

Following the briefest period of mourning, without seeming
uncaring, Robert got on with his life.

He took over the family

business, with some assistance from his brother.

Because

Prohibition did allow the crushing and fermenting of grapes for
medicinal and religious purposes, there was still a demand for
grapes for home winemaking.

Noting this, Robert made the first

of many instinctual marketing decisions.

He switched from

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195

growing both table and wine grapes to exclusively supplying wine
grapes to this market.

Good timing, a little luck, and burning

ambition guaranteed his success.

DiGiulio did well.

Early in 1933, as Repeal approached, The Padrone, as someone
had half-jokingly, semi-enviously dubbed him, began his own
winery.

He applied for, and was granted, a government permit to

make wine before Repeal was officially enacted.

In a small

corrugated tin and wood building, alongside the Southern Pacific
railroad tracks that split Ralston in half, he made his first
wine.
He was a competent winemaker, having watched it made in
his own home and the homes of relatives and friends.

But he knew

there was more to the science of winemaking than he had seen
there.

So he began spending time at the Ralston Public Library,

researching, reading, and studying the only thing
available--pamphlets published by the University of California
before Prohibition began.
His need to know inspired him to learn more of the science
and refine his craft.

His need to control drove him to be shrewd

and ruthless when dealing with suppliers and distributors.
cut no slack and expected none.

He

As with most successful

enterprises, timing and luck, combined with intelligence and
ambition, assured continued growth.

And the winery, named now

after the family, grew steadily into the nation's first major
wine-making organization.
World headquarters for the DiGiulio Winery sits but a few
miles from its trackside birthplace.

But it is light years away

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196

in the science and technology of viticulture, enology, packaging,
marketing, and distribution.

DiGiulio continued to pioneer in

all aspects of winemaking and did more than any other man to
promote and to educate the palate of the world to appreciate the
wines of California.

And he was never afraid to remind people of

that fact.
The DiGiulio Winery is one of the nation's largest privately
held firms, and one of its most secretive.
tasting room.

DiGiulio has no

It officially discourages visitors.

all-business tone is set by The Padrone.

This covert,

Nobody knows just how

big or rich the winery is because it is still family-owned and
operated.

But it is powerful and it is ruthless.

The Padrone runs the winery and the winery runs Ralston.
The company picnic is the largest community function of the year,
with the exception of the "Annual Water Festival".

His

philanthropy is legend in Ralston and the surrounding communities.
The catholic church has received land and money, as
has Valley Catholic High School.

Many other charities have

received generous, and often anonymous, gifts.

The DiGiulio

Foundation was created to identify and manage all contributions
to charity.
support.

It's a relatively inexpensive way to buy community

And it does.

His money and his favors determine who is

mayor, who sits on the city council and the county board of
supervisors.

Not even the "Ralston Record" dares cross swords

with the winery over issues significant.

The people and

community leaders will not admit it, but Ralston is a company
town, not unlike the steel and oil towns run by Carnegie and

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197

Rockefeller a century earlier.

And from the heart of the Central

Valley, he sits, making decisions that manipulate and influence
people and events throughout the state and across the country.
The unseen mover, he enjoys running, and sometimes ruining,
people's lives from there.

And he has those who owe him, in

positions of power, who can mask his every move.
DiGiulio is a focused man.

His entire life, every decision

he's ever made, has been based on the single premise of making
money.
say.

And keeping it.

It's his way, or the highway, as they

He leaves nothing to chance.

imagination.

And very little to

He has no patience, no tolerance, for weak people,

especially people he counts on who fail to deliver.

Employees

who can stand the heat, who like the paternalistic style, stay
with the winery forever.

Those who can't, are gone in a breath.

The end result is a company run by tough, like-minded
businessmen.

Not businesspeople, in the new language of sexual

equality, because there are no women in management positions at
DiGiulio.

The old world traditionalist never trusted their

emotional mood swings.
The Padrone is a meticulous and careful man.
to detail is legendary in the business world.
his attention.

His attention

Nothing escapes

He insists that every conversation, every

transaction, anything where information is given or taken, be
written down, reviewed and counter-signed by a supervisor, and
filed.

Everything and anything that's ever been done by, and to,

the winery has been recorded somewhere.

The result is a tangled

bureaucracy and, until recently, warehouses filled with

Tyranny of the Downbeat

documentation.

198

Recently meant the arrival of the computer age.

Always an innovator, which on the surface seems to run contrary
to his old world ways, DiGiulio was the first in the industry to
computerize his entire operation.

Now, instead of racks and

racks of manila folders, his MIS and Records Departments are
housed in an entire building, temperature-controlled and
electrically isolated, filled with hard disks, floppy disks, and
disk packs.

From there, the electronic web reaches out to every

desk at corporate headquarters and to an entire sales, marketing,
and distribution army nationally and around the world.

It's a

wired winery.
DiGiulio takes great effort to cultivate an image of
legitimacy in a business blemished by memories of bootleggers,
excess, violence, and the influence of organized crime.

And as

clean as his business appears, DiGiulio hasn't been above
stretching the law to his own advantage.
determination to never be poor again.

Perhaps it's his

Or maybe it's his Sicilian

heritage; something in his emotional make-up that allows him to
lightly tamper with common morality and ethics without remorse.
He simply looks at things a little differently than most.
a different set of values.

He has

And he doesn't seem to be upset by

things that might bother others.

Just as long as he doesn't get

blood on his own hands; just so long as they can't point the
finger at him.
His tyranny, born of paranoia and a fear of losing control,
inflated by ego and power, has grown worse as he's grown older.
In studying the man more closely, it becomes obvious that he

Tyranny of the Downbeat

199

designed his life to be as different as possible from his father;
a man whom he loved for his spirit, gentleness, and generosity,
but whom he despised for exhibiting those same weaknesses.
Padrone knew his parents death wasn't an accident.
had killed himself and his wife because he was weak.
had lost control of the situation and his emotions.
would never allow that to happen.

The

His father
Because he
DiGiulio

He was stronger than his

father and the world would know that.

He would never show the

scars.
This obsession with success was symptomatic of his greatest
fear.

He was determined not to fail in the eyes of others as his

father had.

And, on those rare occasions when something slipped

through, he did everything he could to conceal it.

He stopped at

nothing to maintain the facade of a perfect game.
His terrors are self-inflicted; his demons of his own
design.

His delusions of aggression and ruthless threats implied

by others are simply a

mirror of his own impulses.

He judges

others by himself; he sees motives in them that are really his
own.

Perhaps that is why he avoids mirrors, dodges his

reflection.

He refuses to see himself as others see him.

DiGiulio is a man who is used to having his own way.

Things

have gone his way for too long, by design, for him to think any
other way.

It seems that he will stop at nothing to see his own

vision of success realized.

Here is a man who profits annually

from a $500 million "misery market" and feels no remorse.

Here

is a man who defames and discredits his own brother in order to
secure the sanctity of the family name and the product that bears

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200

it.
They've got back-street names and a little extra kick of
alcohol, this poison the street people call "cheap" or "jug" or
"grape".

Made with inexpensive, mostly chemical, ingredients,

these "wines" have twice the alcohol of--and 10% higher profits
than--table wines.

That's one half of the slimy equation.

The

other half is the tipsy elderly couple who drink it because they
don't like the taste of the harder stuff; or the bottle gangs,
sporting wine sores, who drink it because it's cheap and it gets
them there.

Witnessing this, you suddenly realize that these

"fortified wines" are deadly and, as the sociologists would say,
have no "socially redeeming values".
And the man who has built a business on this foundation of
pain realizes it, too.
to talk about it.
bottles.

It's an embarrassment.

He doesn't like

He doesn't even put the family name on the

One industry expert was unforgiving in his assessment,

charging that the "makers of skid-row wines are the dope pushers
of the wine industry".
And then, there's the legal battle with his brother.
The family squabble had begun innocently enough.
packaging of olive oil.

Over the

A few years before, the younger DiGiulio

had begun marketing a bottled olive oil using the family name.
Robert had already licensed General Foods to sell olive oil under
the DiGiulio logo.

Hoping for a quick and amicable compromise,

Robert offered David a licensing agreement that prohibited him
from selling olive oil outside California or advertising on
television.

David refused and Robert sued him for trademark

Tyranny of the Downbeat

infringement.

201

A few days later, David filed a countersuit in

federal court in Fresno.

He charged his older brother with

breach of fiduciary duty, constructive fraud, and deceit.

He

claimed that his brother had cheated him out of his patrimony and
had commingled assets from their parents' estate with his own
when he started the winery.

David was suing for half of the

multi-billion-dollar empire.
Preparing to defend his suit, David sent his attorney to dig
through the DiGiulio-family records.

The lawyer discovered

documents indicating that their father had used the family name
in the wine-grape business before Robert took it for the winery.
That made the name the property of both brothers.

More

importantly, the will said that the estate was to be divided
evenly among the two boys.

David was astonished.

He had always

assumed that what he had been willed was what his parents had
wanted.

He was sure that if he had had some interest in the

winery, his brother would have told him.
Once, they had been very close.

Robert had raised David

from the age of 13 following the death of their parents.

As

brother and legal guardian, Robert offered advice and guidance.
David spent twenty years managing the family vineyards before
leaving to operate his own dairy and grape ranches near his home
south of Ralston.

Until the suit, Robert continued to buy grapes

each harvest from his brother.
Robert had some of the best legal talent in the state
already working for the winery.

David hired the rest.

promised to be a long, well-publicized battle.

It

Accusations and

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202

allegations, threats and implications were reported each day in
the local and national press.

It cut deeper and deeper.

People

wondered how two brothers could become so different, so hateful,
so casual about the other.
so far away.

The answer was not so difficult, or

Again, they were Sicilian.

Brothers of that blood

had killed brothers before, for more or less.
His younger brother had become a nuisance; a distraction he
didn't need.

Brother or no.

His enemies didn't need any more

allies, or any information he might willingly provide.
him would be difficult, but not impossible.

Silencing

Attack his

credibility first.

Make them doubt his word.

If that failed,

simply attack him.

The youngest had left the oldest brother no

choice.
His brother was a someday problem.
urgent business to attend to.

Today, he had more

That's what was bothering him as

he sat there in his garden, staring at the budding greenery
of the grape vines.

He was re-playing the entire board meeting,

noting those who had backed him and those who had broken ranks.
The sting of his embarrassment was still warm on his face.

The

anger glowed hotter as he thought about it, fanned by what he
knew people were thinking and saying and by his disappointment in
himself for allowing it to happen.
They, the board, half of whom he had gotten appointed, had
the brass to blame him for what had happened.

And then, had told

him--not asked him--but told him to take care of it.

Because

that goddamned Asian farmworker had worked on one of his ranches
and because Elliot Lincoln--the famous Elliot Lincoln--was born

Tyranny of the Downbeat

203

and raised in the same town.

His town they said.

A town they

thought he controlled.
The incident with the farmworker could be dealt with.
few medical bills.
family.

Pay a

Take some food and clothes over to the

Help him pull out of it and then get the relief agency

to relocate him.
Mr. Lincoln was another matter entirely.
some thought.

And some counsel.

That would take

It was time for a meeting.

He

needed to talk with his two most trusted, and dedicated,
advisors.

His lawyer and his congressman:

The Mouthpiece and

The Iceman.
Returning to the winery, DiGiulio asked his secretary to
call Thomas Franklin Delancy and John Anthony Borba.
Immediately.

Before this day was done, he expected to know what

to do about this slight nuisance.

The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers.
--William Shakespeare, "Henry IV"
Prior appropriation.

"First in time, first in right."

That's how water rights were determined in the early pioneer days
of California and the Western United States.

The first settlers

to get to a stream, creek, or river had a superior right--a prior
right--to the water.
them.

Those who came later had to get water from

It's a courtesy still practiced today by river rafters.

The first to arrive gets the best campsites.
In more modern times, entire law firms had been founded
trying to explain prior appropriation.

Unscrambling and

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204

protecting water rights for the Westlands Water and Power League,
the Marriposa Combine, and the DiGiulio Winery is the job of
Thomas Franklin Delancy and his colleagues at Delancy & Reed, a
legal corporation.

Delancy is The Padrone's personal mouthpiece.

Delancy's firm was the primary lobbyist in Sacramento and
Washington for most of the water contractors, factory farms, and
agrichemical companies in the Central Valley.

He had lobbied

long and hard for water rights, more water projects, and fewer
restrictions on pesticides.

His ally is John Borba.

They had

fought side-by-side to raise the acreage limit on water
subsidies.

They had also lobbied to keep Masterson open, despite

the pollution and deformities the farmers of The League had
caused.

And they had worked to stall EPA bans on certain

pesticides; especially those depended upon by their wealthy and
influential grape- and cotton-growing clients and constituents.
It was not an even match.

The lawyers for the EPA and

government departments were not extremely talented.

They had

landed in public service because they couldn't hook on with
anyone in private practice.

What skills they had were often

rusty from lack of use and any serious challenges.

And now they

were going up against some of the best legal talent in the state.
And they were getting hosed.

Any lawyer worth his salt could

drag water use, water rights or water pollution cases out in
court for years, while his client continued to receive subsidized
water; while his client continued to pollute the state's drinking
water.
Thomas Franklin Delancy's record against the government was

Tyranny of the Downbeat

very good.

205

He had been around for a while and had been

succeeding just about as long.

He was old Ralston.

had lived near, or in, town since it was founded.

His family
He went to

school there, married someone from there, and returned to
practice law there after graduating from the University of Santa
Clara.
Like many before him, his Irish ancestors had fled the
potatoe famines of the mid-1800s to find a new beginning in the
promised land of America.
the same careers.

And his family had fallen into many of

Some became priests, some became police.

became savers of souls, others abusers of power.
the capacity to be either saint or sinner.

Some

In him, he had

He could serve and

protect the underprivileged class he had been born to, or turn
his back to serve and protect the privileged class he had
scratched and clawed to become a part of.
In the early years of his legal practice, he seemed prepared
to fight the good fight, much like his fellow Irish-Catholic,
John Kennedy, a man he idolized.
else he shared with Borba.

This affection was something

Influenced deeply by the youthful and

idealistic Kennedy, he dedicated his fledging career to
representing the disenfranchised and downtrodden:

first, the

freedom-riders in Alabama and counter-culturists busted for
speaking their minds and smoking pot, then the street people of
the Haight, draft card burners, People's Park street casualties,
a young Farmworkers movement, and other unpopular causes.
Then something changed.
assassinated.

And King.

The music died.

Kennedy was

And a son died in Vietnam.

Delancy

Tyranny of the Downbeat

206

became bitter, impatient, manipulative, and vengeful.
Kennedy, more Nixon.
reality changed.

Less

His priorities and his perception of

The more he looked at the world through legal

eyes, the more cynical be became.

What began as conscious

efficiency and ethical conscientiousness, somehow turned into a
relentless drive to serve any cause that paid well.

And what

some were now calling the agricultural trilateral commission--the
triumverate of The League, The Combine, and The Padrone--paid
well; especially well.
Delancy slowly became distanced from, and immune to, the
normal moral accountability shared by ordinary people.

And he

callously and impatiently defended his right to do so; to be
above the law.

As necessary, he trampled on the rights of the

public to satisfy his powerful clients.
moneys.

A killer equation.

were simply negligent.

Lawyers, guns, and

Add to that politicians.

Sometimes just dishonest.

Often they

They just

didn't seem to mind turning their backs on people's rights just
so they wouldn't annoy the influential.

They were legal

terrorists, invoking the veil of client privilege to mask their
abuse of people's rights.

Many wondered how that relationship

could be more important than people's lives.
to answer the question.

Colleagues sadly shook their heads and

said he was not immoral, simply amoral.
simply expedient.

Delancy chose not

It was his job.

He was not malicious,

And he did it.

And the

victims left standing on the scaffolding of his legal reign of
terror were the people and the legal system.
Through the years, Delancy had become very well connected

Tyranny of the Downbeat

207

financially and politically.

His lobbying and PAC contributions

had endeared him to the Democratic hierarchy.

Senators,

governors, and presidents had been guests at his magnificent
Arabian horse ranch outside Ralston.
The family compound was designed as a west coast clone of
the Hyannis Port home of The Kennedys.
though, is considerably larger.

Delancy's domain,

Casa del Rio Estanislao, named

after the river named for the renegade Indian chief who had been
baptized by Father Serra, sprawls over several hundred acres
along the bluffs overlooking the river, northeast of Ralston, on
the way to the Sierra foothills.

It is a working horse ranch,

breeding and selling prize Arabians.

During winter and spring,

the hills are rolling in green, summer brown when not irrigated.
White board fences remind one of Kentucky or Tennessee, while the
eucalyptus groves conjure the Big Sur coastside, and the
bougainvillaea, Monterey or the pueblos of Taos.

The southwestern

design and decor of the ranch house is strictly Santa Fe.
Each Sunday, all members of the family gather for church
services, held at their own chapel by a visiting church
dignitary, and Sunday dinner.

Weather permitting, they even play

a little touch football.
Corpulant is a kind, but accurate, assessment of the man who
reigns here.

And sloppy, and untidy.

to fit him quite right.

His clothes never appear

They're always loosely moving, pulling

and peeking out, as if looking around for their real owner.

He

always seems to have a thin veil of cigar ashes all over his
favorite green and red plaid, heraldic-colored bowtie; the one he

Tyranny of the Downbeat

wears nearly every day.

208

It is an unflattering combination of

Thomas Mitchell and Orson Welles.

He likes to think of himself

as Pat O'Brien doing Knute Rockne.

But the smile tips him off.

It, not his eyes, are the window to this man's soul.

It can be

frozen thin-lipped in deadly seriousness, or broken and crooked
when he's seriously deadly.

Read my lips takes on whole new

realms of meaning when dealing with Thomas Franklin Delancy.
He is usually an uncaring asshole, especially to adversaries
and those he dislikes.

Unfortunately, he doesn't know how, or

when, to turn it off when dealing with colleagues, friends, and
family.

To the wife he ignores when it's convenient, to the

daughters who live to please him and are rewarded with his
nonchalance, or to those around the office and the family
compound, it is life as he sees it.

And there are no dissenters.

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209
CHAPTER 13

We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what
we pretend to be.
-- Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.
Truth is a lie.
-- Pablo Picasso
Stephan and I were on our third Beefeaters.

The six o'clock

CalTrain had just rumbled past as we sat on the deck at
"Blake's."

The blistering Davis day was simmering down to a

comfortable warm breeze.

There were smells of tomatoes cooking

far off in the Hunt's cannery, of dry grass, warm wood, summer
roses, and sounds of the approaching night.

Here we sat, both

trying desperately to conjure up and recapture a time that had
passed.

And like most memories, it was probably better in the

remembering than it was in the living.
less responsibility.

Although it was a time of

A time of last refuge and isolation before

career and commitment.
We were talking about writers.

Stephan, and most of his

friends, considered him one, as did he, although he hadn't really
ever finished anything.

He remained satisfied laboring over the

news and postponed finishing the great work until tomorrow.

Like

the letters he always threatened to write, Stephan's were all
works in progress, whereas I was near completion.
worried over words.

I worried about finishing.

Stephan
We had never

really discussed the subject at length because I had always been
intimidated; had felt I wasn't sufficiently qualified to discuss
writing with someone who wrote.

But now that I had my own

writing working, and after so many years of observing Stephan

Tyranny of the Downbeat

210

making endless notes in trackless volumes of journals and
encouraging him to finish something, I had become less than
sympathetic when he began to complain, as he often did, about
some of the crap he had been reading.

Especially when he would

move on to talking about a mutual friend of ours who also
considered himself a writer.

And Stephan would muse about how

this man had never finished the adventure novel he'd been working
on for years.
Maybe it was the gin.

Maybe it was the fact that I finally

felt superior to Stephan, simply because I had almost
accomplished what he had only dreamed about.

Whatever prompted

me, I decided mi amigo was long overdue for a little reality
check.
"I don't think Marlow will ever finish it."

He took a long

drag off the unfiltered Pall Malls, took another sip, and stared
out over the railroad tracks toward the trailer houses where he
once lived.
"I don't know.
beat us."

He'll probably finish it someday.

Probably

I twirled the small glass sitting on the black

wire-mesh tabletop, picking at the thin, round napkin.
"How close are you to finishing?"

He dusted the ashes down

to a glow.
"I'm pretty much there.
re-work some situations."

Just need to tweak some words and

I stir.

"You know, it's funny."

"What's that?"
"What they say about life imitating art."
"How's that?"

Tyranny of the Downbeat

211

"I'm starting to look at this book like it's some kind of
voodoo doll.

It's like, by writing it, I'm foretelling it."

"A chronicle of the immediate future?"
"All the things I write about in the book, all the
possibilities, seem to come true."
"Maybe they're just coincidences."
"Or maybe things happen because we let them happen."
"Beware of what you wish for, you may just get it?"
"Possibly.

What about you?

Are you wishing for a finished

work?"
"Just a little more work and it'll be ready."
"You know, not that I'm an expert, but when I first started,
I made two notes to myself and stuck them on the computer.
Little reminders.

One said, 'When in doubt, write.'

And the

other said, "A writer writes.'"
Stephan looked over, the cigarette poised in his fingertips,
that crooked smile on his face.
"Are you saying I'm not a writer?
for the paper.

Hell, I write every day

I crank out more words in a week than most

'serious writers' do in a month."
"Quantity, not quality.
write.

Besides, it's not what you want to

It's just a living."

"And a helluva good living.
think I'm doing some good.
"So did Hemingway.

And I don't mind saying that I

Making a difference."

But he knew when to cut himself loose.

Look, I'm just saying you're not a novelist until you finish a
novel.

And I'm not even talking about being published.

I mean

Tyranny of the Downbeat

finishing something.

212

You talk a good story about writing the

great American novel.

And you make a lot of notes.

never seen anything finished.

But I've

I don't think you've ever shown me

anything in progress."
"That's because none of it's ready."
"Bullshit, man!"
you can or you can't.
in-between.
for?

The gloves were definitely off.
You do or you don't.

"Either

There's no

We both know you're good, but what are you waiting

You've certainly had the time to finish something."
"Maybe I'm afraid to."
"Why?"
"Because maybe it won't be as good as it should be.

I've

set myself up all these years to be a great writer, a quality
writer, with something to say.

I savored that role,

..."

"And played it to the max."
"

...

while we were in college, thinking I had years to

complete something.

That there were years for me to gather

experiences and observations that would speak to the common
consciousness of people.

Then, suddenly, I was no longer a

student, I was no longer young, and I had nothing to show for all
those years of being the starving young artist."
"Except stories and photographs of you living out the
fantasy."
"My aren't we harsh and judgmental tonight?

Been saving

this up, compadre?"
"I think it's part envy and part frustration.
of your talent.

Envy because

Frustration because I hate to see talent wasted.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

213

It's like your painting.
and you squandered it.

Or your music.

You had talent in both

I would have given a left nut to have

either of those abilities."
"Well, I think you're short-changing yourself."
"Maybe.
literature.

But I do know one thing.
But it will get done.

Mine may not be great

And it will be a good story.

And if I can communicate any of my vision of the world, unique or
not, I will be satisfied.

And I don't think you can say that."

Stephan took another drag and thought about Paris.

In a modern information world, smart governments don't care as
much about what you say as they care about what you know.
-- Richard Reeves/Commentary "Information a Vital Freedom"
Born under a bad sign,
Been down since I began to crawl
If it wasn't for bad luck
I wouldn't have no luck at all
Bad luck and trouble's been my only friend
I've been down ever since I was ten
Born under a bad sign
I feel like a ballgame on a rainy day.
If it wasn't for bad luck
I wouldn't have no luck at all.
-- John Lee Hooker, "Born Under a Bad Sign"
Congressman John Anthony "Tony" Borba, democrat from
Mendota.

His home district, the Westlands, stretches from the

agricultural lands on the west side of the San Joaquin Valley to
the dairy lands and vineyards of Ralston to the Fresno suburbs.
Most of the big factory farms and corporate combines are in his
corridor of influence, including DiGiulio.

He was hand-picked

and groomed for this job personally by The Padrone.

Now he's the

key player on two powerful committees with critical influence in

Tyranny of the Downbeat

the state.

214

Those controlling water and agriculture.

power got him where he is.

Bundles of both.

Money and

And lots of favors

have been re-paid to keep him there.
Borba was part of a California congressional delegation that
had become invincible in its faceless obscurity.
analyst jokingly commented:
money.

One political

"Howard Hughes wasted a lot of

If all he wanted was anonymity, he should have joined the

delegation from California."

The congressmen liked it that way.

With little or no press coverage, they could fashion their own
image.

Not through electronic media or the press, but through

newsletters, which they wrote and mailed and the
government--meaning the taxpayers receiving the mailers--paid
for.

In recent years, so few incumbents had been defeated that

no one even bothered to challenge them anymore.
continuity in the delegation.

This created

But it also caused insularity.

Each member had their own agenda and they were free to pursue it,
regardless of how reflective it was, or wasn't, of their
constituency.
Of this trend, Borba gloated.
Westerners.

"We're the power now.

We

The political dynasties, or should I call them

dinosaurs, of the industrial northeast have had their day.
they're getting pretty nervous about it.

And

Especially when I told

them I wouldn't treat them any differently than they've treated
us.

Nervous?

They should be scared to death."

Just another

example of a cultivated arrogance that exhibited itself often in
his annoying habit of calling everyone by their last name.
Tony has been quoted as saying, "My business is politics.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

It's what I do.

215

It's not a hobby.

intricacies, the dealing.
system.

And I'm successful because I work the

I don't try to beat it.

Communication and marketing.
product.

I like the way it works, its

And I know what makes it work.

The mass merchandising of a

Whether it's a philosophy or a President.

It's all

product to me."
He understands the power of presentation and the media.
Walk into his office and you're confronted by a bank of
television monitors.

Six TV sets against one wall, tuned to

C-SPAN, NBC, CBS, ABC, CNN, and PBS.
He doesn't avoid the media.
issues.

Sound and fury.

Constant electronic input.

He courts it.

"It's image, not

Control the image and you control how

your message is presented by the media."

To make sure he

controls it completely, he has built and equipped his own
television studio.

A complete state-of-the-art facility.

produce his own video press releases.

To

To show his colleagues and

constituents how to manipulate the electronic eye and mediate the
message.
Sharply dressed in his expensive tailored suits, he leaves
no aspect of his own presentation to chance.

Preoccupied with

appearance, it's all very carefully contrived and executed.

Not

only how he looks physically, but how others see him--colleagues
and peers, superiors and inferiors.

Substance is acceptable, but

appearance is everything.
Short and compact, he's about five-seven or eight.

His dark

brown, pinched ferret's eyes shift and dart below black eyebrows
that come to a point at the top of his sharp Mediterranean nose.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

216

His wiry black hair is cropped close, resembling something
between a military cut and a John Kennedy wave.
He doesn't drink or smoke because they cheapen the package.
Running, lifting weights, and playing racquetball keeps him
active and lucid.
another war.

He plays hard and with a vengeance.

It's just

And those who have taken a slammed racquetball off

the forehead can vouch for his battlefield aggressiveness.

His

drive toward fitness is a slap in the face of the disease he
inherited; the one his body can't shake no matter how hard it's
worked.
When his wife speaks of her husband, she mentions his
compulsion to organize and his attention to detail.
a fanatic in that way.
lined up.

Everything has to be in its place.

So he always knows right where it is.

likes predictability.

"He's almost
All

Because he

He really hates surprises."

Nancy Borba is bright and attractive, just this side of
bubbly.

She was born in the Valley, in Ralston.

Her father

worked in the bottling plant at DiGiulio, while her mother stayed
home to raise a family.
school.

Nancy was well-liked and did well in

She could have been a cheerleader, but chose to pursue

more important things.

Her older brother went away to college

and she, being part of the baby-boom, was not about to be outdone
by her brother.

But she stayed closer to home.

She attended San

Jose State College, got a teaching credential, and returned to
Ralston to teach.

She was in her second year when she met Tony

at the annual DiGiulio company picnic.

They were married the

next summer and attended that picnic as newlyweds.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

217

She no longer teaches.
her husband's climb.

Her time is fully occupied helping

She's good at it and enjoys it.

She takes

good care of herself, possibly out of a deep fear she may someday
look like her mother; overweight and looking the typical
Portuguese wife.

She's still very attractive, though 40 looms.

She's lively, genuine, and generous.
a severe competitiveness.

If she has one fault, it's

Again because of her older brother.

In school, she competed equally in sports and academics with the
boys.

Now she competes in terms of money, stature, and position

in society.

She doesn't like anyone, especially her male

acquaintances from Ralston, to do better than she does.

She and

Tony make a good match.
John Anthony was born in the Central Valley near Mendota.
His Portuguese parents were dairy-farmers and good Catholics.
Tony is proud to be Portuguese.

Although he was born in the

United States to American parents, he promotes himself as very
ethnic, almost Third World.
and Asian colleagues.

That bothers some of his Hispanic

But he doesn't really care.

As long as it

opens some doors.
Rising before the sun every day of his youth, he would do
his chores then walk to school.
his classmates liked him.
usually won.

He was a successful student and

He ran for class office often and

And he liked it.

His parents wanted him to work the farm.
chose law school as his parachute.

He wanted out.

He

He was about to bail out when

his father lost the dairy, to a combination of bad management,
a depressed market, and inflation.

That was November 1962, just

Tyranny of the Downbeat

218

before John Kennedy was gunned down.

Kennedy was a god to Borba,

as he was to many young people, especially other Roman Catholics.
Tony was attracted to his youthfulness, his dynamism, his "can
do" attitude.
really was.

His death made him realize how insulated his life
Kennedy's death, and the disillusionment that

followed, affected Tony deeply.
decided to re-dedicate his life.
priest.

Just before graduating, he
He planned to become a Jesuit

Tony was about to realize that his devastation was just

beginning.
As a teenager, he had been in a motorcycle accident.

He

wasn't seriously injured, but for years afterwards he complained
of headaches.
black-outs.

Occasionally, he suffered convulsions.

Then

Just prior to beginning the ministry, the symptoms

had become so severe he went to the family doctor.

He was

diagnosed as an epileptic.
He was crushed.
reaction.

Not by the diagnosis, but his family's

His parents were both Old World Portuguese and very

superstitious.

They believed that epilepsy was a divine

punishment for an ancestor's sin.

Their reaction was immediate:

"No son of ours is an epileptic," and it cut Tony deeper than a
knife.
His parents only pierced the skin above his heart.
Jesuits plunged the knife to the hilt.
longer join the priesthood.

The

They told him he could no

Citing a canon from the Middle Ages,

they said epileptics were "possessed of the devil" and could not
become ordained priests.

His world was shattered.

His family

and his church had turned their backs on him, basically telling

Tyranny of the Downbeat

219

him he wasn't worth saving.
I even thought about suicide.
I'd do it.

"I hit absolute bottom.

The gutter.

Seriously enough to plot out how

I learned what it was like to be abandoned.

totally, absolutely alone."

Despair became anger.

To be

He cloaked

himself in his own isolation as he cut himself off more and more
from his prior life.
Although the ordeal was far from over, it was about to take
an unexpected turn.

His fellow Catholics had hurt him deeply.

Two more stepped in to save him.

Mrs. Robert DiGiulio, hearing

of the young man's problem from a Catholic relief agency, invited
Tony to tutor her children.

Liking the ambitious young man, The

Padrone introduced him to Thomas Delancy.

Delancy, in turn,

introduced him to lawyering and politics.

Following his

graduation from the University of Santa Clara, Tony went to work
for liberal Republican congressman Loren Van deCamp.

When Van

deCamp was called to Washington to work for Nelson Rockefeller,
Tony ran for, and although a Democrat, easily won Van deCamp's
seat.
Coincidentally, or perhaps by design, Loren Van deCamp's
daughter Laura is an associate in the firm of Delancy and Reed.
Tony rose to prominence and power quickly.

He learned very

early the impact and influence of Political Action
Committees--PACs.

It didn't take long before his "Valley

Education Fund" became one of the most influential in the state
and then the country.

He used it to fashion a political alliance

that depended on the farm vote and wielded power with money from
the water lobby, agrichemical corporations, and agribusiness.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

220

Money gladly supplied by The Padrone, The League, and The
Combine.
In his four terms since then, Borba has accumulated twice
the clout of--and twice as many enemies as--lawmakers with three
times the tenure.

He's done it because he's ambitious, creative,

fearless, and self-assured.
he's fearless.

He's known as The "Iceman," because

After all, he had nearly died as a teenager and

he had certainly died in the eyes of his family when his epilepsy
had been diagnosed.

He feels he's got nothing to lose because

he'll never be as devastated as he was then.
nothing would ever touch him again.
be vulnerable again.

Tony vowed that

He would never let himself

Never let anybody see him weak again.

He had been to the threshold and it held no secrets, no
dangers.

And that made him especially powerful, almost

invincible, because he was not motivated by the most basic fear
driving temporal man.

His own mortality.

He savored the extra

edge that gave him and used it when that kind of brinkmanship was
the only thing that could control an adversary.

He truly

believed in the essence of the "no-guts-no-glory" philosophy.
He sought success, but was neutral about its rewards.
pursuit excited him as much as the victory.

The

"Besides," he said

with a dark pride of thinly veiled anger, "I'm not worried about
the roll of the dice."

And that frightened people.

Some say having nothing to lose makes it easier to sell your
soul.

Nothing can touch you because you're already marked.

Tony's epilepsy made him uniquely qualified to be DiGiulio's Dr.
Faustus.

So when The Padrone is worried about something, he

Tyranny of the Downbeat

calls Tony and The Iceman starts calling in cards.

221

Tyranny of the Downbeat

222
CHAPTER 14

You wake up every morning still got the sleep
in your eyes
Working for the boss, you never stop to
wonder why
So join the rank, this is the rank, we are th
rank, rank and file and there is no denial
They preach the truth and they don't know
what it means
From left to right--oh it makes me want
to scream
Shift to shift, in and out, I give and
they take
I punch that clock and punch it
hard enough to break
So join the rank, this is the rank, we are the
rank, rank and file and there is no denial
-- Escovedo-Kinman-Session-Miller, "Rank and File"
Death is patiently making my mask as I sleep. Each morning I
awake to discover in the corners of my eyes the small tears of
his wax.
-- Phillip Dow
The Padrone stood with his back to the door, gaze fixed out
the large window overlooking the rolling lawns and the creek
farther below.

It was a hazy day.

Farmers had been burning the

fruit trees they'd just cleared from their lands to make room for
more houses for people working in the Bay Area.

People who had

to work in San Francisco, but didn't want to raise their kids
there.

Ralston was growing.

It was changing very rapidly.

that was just one more thing for The Padrone to worry about.
two men he probably trusted as much as any--Borba and
Delancy--sat across the room.
"It's getting too big to control now."

And
The

Tyranny of the Downbeat

223

"What's that?"
"This town.

This Valley."

"You'll find a way, Padrone.

You'll find a way.

It's yours

to rule."
"It was once."
annoyed.

The Padrone continued staring.

Things were not in order.

They were getting messy.

was time for a little housekeeping.
to get his hands dirty.

He was
It

But DiGiulio did not intend

He knew his history and his politics.

He remembered Watergate and a weapon from the Nixon arsenal.
"Deniability."

A way of insulating and isolating himself from

charges of conspiracy.

It worked very simply.

He would suggest

to someone else--someone like Borba or Delancy--that certain
actions be taken.

That someone might then translate those

suggestions into orders that could be given to still another
person who might then carry them out.
later say he was never involved.

That way The Padrone could

That he had never directly

given the order.
When he spoke, his anguish was genuine.
actor.

"I do not know what to do.

He was a very good

They have no right to say

what they are saying or do what they are doing."
The two men glance over at each other then back to nothing
in particular.
"I have worked hard to build this.
it.

Fought many to maintain

Now these baseless accusations from faceless enemies.

would destroy it for sport.

To see the powerful humbled."

They
He

runs his hand along the curtain, moving it so he see a little
more of his land.

"Those who stand against agriculture, against

Tyranny of the Downbeat

224

my right to my water, are obstacles.
my ambitions."

To progress, to growth, to

He didn't say it, but he thought about the iron

archway that spanned the main road into town.

"Where the Land

Owns the Water," it read.
Borba bore into his back for a moment, then looked over at
the collection of ceramic roosters caged in glass.

It was a

remarkable collection, gathered from around the world, sent as
presents, proffered in peace.

Gifts to a man who had everything.

Actually, DiGiulio was quite proud of his ceramic coop.

In the

few pictures ever taken of him for publication, when he
grudgingly granted an interview, he was always standing near his
roosters, or holding one that he especially treasured.
roosters.

They were very much like him.

He liked

Especially the

fighters, the killer cocks.
"I trust you understand the problem?

The board expects us

to deal with this program of Mr. Lincoln's.

As well as the small

problem of this Asian farmworker."
Delancy thought a quick thought of the near past and of
Watergate also.

"Engineering the response."

were expected to do.
President.

That's what they

Just like the Committee to Re-elect the

He hoped they would do a better job.

They had to.

It was pretty obvious the future of each one of them was at
stake.
"They are very powerful people.
behind them.

They've got the media

They've got the sympathy of public opinion."

"We'll have to change that, won't we?"
Tony shifts in the chair, his stomach churning.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

225

"Well?"
"Well what?"
The Padrone swivels to face them, hearing a hint of
rebellion.

"Something wrong, Anthony?"

"Time for me to arrange something?
truth?

Again?

Something to hide the

Is that it?"

Quietly, pressingly.

"No.

Time simply to see the truth.

To make it painfully clear, as only you can."
convincing.

The man could be

He could work you over.

"And just how am I supposed to do it this time?
Blackmail?

Bribery?

Or simple violence?"

The Padrone limps slowly to where Tony sits and places his
hand firmly on the congressman's shoulder.
benediction.

Not a blessing, nor a

Just to let him know there's no mistaking the

seriousness of their situation.
"Anthony, my son."
Father Confessor.

The Padrone as Pope.

As

Smiling.

"We

As the one you cannot deny.

just cannot let this continue.
Head bowed.

As priest.

I think you both understand."

An altar boy, back in the loving arms of the

Church, he slumps in his chair.
"You speak of violence.
truth.

Our own truth.

There need be none.

Only the

Placed in the hands of those who can

spread it quickly and widely."
"You have the facilities.

He moves over to the glass cage.

You have people who owe you.

And,

need I remind you, owe you because you owe me."
Borba sits upright.

Ruler to the knuckles.

Confessor has become Reverend Mother.

The Father

The choir boy caught

Tyranny of the Downbeat

226

transgressing, forgetting the boons bestowed upon him.
"Fine.

I'll arrange it.

"I do not want promises.

No promises, though."
Just results.

You can go now."

The Padrone opens the glass door and rearranges his collection.
He sees the wooden door close in its reflection.

He smiles.

I do not mind lying, but I hate inaccuracy.
-- Samuel Butler
Borba arranged to meet consultant Blaise Santiago in the
V.I.P. lounge at SFO.

On the red-eye back to D.C., they began

devising their plan to stop, or discredit, Elliot's documentary.
They would match weapon with weapon, expert with expert.

They

started with a list of those in the fields of ground water
contamination and pesticide toxicology.

They ended with

congressmen who could ably and credibly defend current water
subsidies to California's agribusiness community.

They needed to

act quickly and with deadly, uncompromising force.

The truth, as

presented by those in power.

Their first video press release

would air in major markets at week's end.
Novelist turned media manipulator, Blaise Santiago is one of
Borba's best hired guns.
American Indian.

He once wrote about the plight of the

Now he comes down from his mountain in Santa

Barbara just long enough to go "mano-a-mano" in the canyons of
Manhattan and Washington.

He's a media gunsel; the man Borba

calls when he needs extra help fixing whatever got broke.
During a television interview once at the University of
California at Davis, Santiago entitled his talk:

"Hijacking the

Tyranny of the Downbeat

American Novel."

227

After a few meetings with the author and a trip

to his Spanish mansion to finish the remote, the crew re-dubbed
the talk:

"Butt-fucking the American Indian."

Santiago resents being called a hired gun.

He doesn't mind

the use of the word "gun" so much as the word "hired."
reaction:

His

"It implies that I'm not the one doing the choosing.

I pick who I want to work for.

They don't pick me."

He's demanding and never satisfied; a tough man to work for.
He pushes people to reach down for whatever it takes to win.

He

insists on complete personal control, applying the "auteur"
theory to his work.

He approaches campaigns like a method actor

preparing for a role, identifying with the campaign to such an
extent that he sometimes gets lost in it; so much so that you
can't tell between the promoter and the promoted.
Santiago likes to use early polling to identify the
strengths and weaknesses of any campaign.

The registrar of

voters, the tax assessor, the Department of Motor Vehicles, and
the U.S. Census are some of the sources he uses to uncover
"reduced universes," based on factors like race, sex,
homeowner/renter status, and sexual preference.

He has perfected

the technique of "micro-targeting" direct mail.

From this data,

he creates a campaign theme, usually simple, direct, and catchy.
He wants something that fits into a phrase, or a couple of
sentences; something basic and memorable that will penetrate the
average American's overstimulated consciousness.

Finally, using

computer analyses of voter lists, he designs brochures, targeting
each one for a specific audience.

He's been quoted as saying,

Tyranny of the Downbeat

228

"We play with what's already in people's minds.

We're not really

interested in putting any new information in there."
He works out of a refurbished, Mission-style triplex in the
heart of old town Santa Barbara.
reach.

Everything he needs is within

Film and electronic teleproduction gear, including remote

photography and editing, graphic design and layout, typography
and printing, a sound studio for narration and music, film and
videotape screening facilities, and computer links to any data
base around the world.

It's a miniature media center; a cross

between Elliot's studio in Marin and Borba's facility in
D.C.
He had surrounded himself with a collection of intelligent
and aggressive young wizards from the worlds of corporate
marketing and advertising.

Many were Stanford MBAs, so they

were dubbed "The Cardinal Kids."

They were zealously loyal and

righteously arrogant because they were too young and naive to
know any better.
Santiago will be responsible for countering any publicity
before, during, and after the making and airing of Elliot's
documentary.

It's up to him to question the validity of the

project; its accusations and experts.

He might even be forced to

question the integrity and motives of the filmmaker himself and
his old compadre Daniel Valle.
street fight.

After all, this was going to be a

And there were no rules when your back was against

the back-alley wall.

Santiago would also handle media relations

during the trial that was sure to follow.
Unlike Valle and the days of their dressed-down rebel

Tyranny of the Downbeat

229

poverty, Santiago dresses for success; pin-striped,
double-breasted Wall Street fashionable.

He sports suspenders

and longish hair cresting the collar of his silk shirts.

His

hair is dark brown, lightly moussed and combed straight back,
parted in the middle.

He has a clean-shaven, Kirk

Douglas-clefted chin.

His face is square and weary worn.

is no softness to its edges.

There are no wrinkles at the

corners of his eyes from too much smiling.
often.

There

He doesn't do that

His skin is adobe light, belying his birth in--and early

exodus from--Los Mochis.

He claimed his heritage when

beneficial, like getting a college scholarship or swelling the
ranks of La Raza.

But when it became a burden, an obstacle, he

shed his skin and became a chameleon of convenience.
his life, the masquerade fooled most.
Establishment he once despised.

For much of

He became part of The

But there was one who would not

let him forget.
Santiago had once been a very close friend and ally of
Daniel Valle.

They had marched in Delano together.

performed on the back of trucks with 'La Drama'.

They had

Their heads had

been busted by jack-booted "Tac Squaders" in front of the Student
Union at San Francisco State.

They had once between

fellow-traveling, counter-culture revolutionaries.
staring across the line at each other.

Now they were

Once brothers, now

enemies.
When asked once why he owned a swimming pool, Santiago, in
an effort to mask his new wealth from old revolutionary
colleagues; in an attempt to show he hadn't sold out, replied:

Tyranny of the Downbeat

230

"There's lots of fires up here along Coyote Ridge.
fight fires."

Most saw through the smoke screen.

I need it to
It was just

another trapping of the new life he'd forged, along with the
clothes, the house, and the cars.
A swimming pool in California is a sign of wealth and an
object of scorn, especially for Easterners.
wrote:

Joan Didion once

"When it became generally known a year or so ago that

California was suffering severe drought, many people in
water-rich parts of the country seemed obscurely gratified, and
made frequent reference to Californians having to brick up their
swimming pools."
The fact is, a swimming pool, once it's filled and pumping,
really doesn't need any water.
is what the pool represents.

That's the reality.

The fantasy

Again, Joan Didion, in defense of

our excesses and preoccupations:

"

...

a pool is

misapprehended as a trapping of influence, real or pretended, and
a kind of hedonistic attention to the body.

Actually a pool is,

for many of us in the West, a symbol not of affluence but of
order, of control over the uncontrollable.

A pool is water, made

available and useful, and is, as such, infinitely soothing to the
western eye."
And that's why Santiago had the swimming pool.

Not simply

because of the overt status it represented, but because of the
subliminal message it carried.

He lived south of the Tehachapis.

He was a Southern Californian now.

Water was a way of life.

He,

like the rest of the southland, had a compulsion to control it.
A mission to mine it, because there was never enough to supply

Tyranny of the Downbeat

231

this thirsty region we call California.
The "politics of water" was of more than a passing interest
to Santiago.

The logic bomb detonated just after 9AM.

Investigators from

LAPD's computer crime unit explained it had been inserted at some
point earlier and programmed to go off at a preassigned time.
All the internal files of the giant IBM had been frozen.

For

some reason, it didn't touch the intricate machine and system
control software that affected service to their customers.

The

chief investigator didn't know yet what to make of what the
department head was telling him.
"I think someone is giving us a warning.

They were too good

to just ignore that software or be locked out of only that.

They

could have trashed it all."
"You're implying premeditation?

Some kind of conspiracy?"

"A prelude to that, perhaps."
"What a nightmare.

I can't even begin to imagine the chaos

that would have caused."
"Think about it.

The entire system that controls the flow

of water and electricity for all of Los Angeles and most of
southern California gone suddenly mad.

Out of control.

Whatever

it was, whoever planted it, was pretty specific about their
target."
"Who'd they hit?"
"They basically went after one water contractor only.
it was the largest."

But

Tyranny of the Downbeat

232

"Who's that?"
"The Westlands League.

The intruder messed with a few

others, but I think they were just dusting their tracks.

It

looked like they were trying to permanently reduce the allotments
due to the Westlands' clients."
"And if you hadn't stumbled on it, those people wouldn't
have known about it?

How long would it have been before they

suspected?"
"Hard to say.

Probably not long.

But long enough."

"Because it would have meant no water for a lot of central
valley farmers."
"And, in this heat, that would have resulted in a lot of
dead crops."
"And a lot of very angry, very powerful people."
"I don't think I'd like to be the guy when they catch him."
Outside, the ceaseless fountain continued flowing around the
offices of the Metropolitan Water District, thumbing its nose at
the desert city surrounding it.

Public awareness was beginning to stir as the controversy
and coverage surrounding the project widened.

With the consent

of his editor, Stephan Harrington dedicated his entire column
exclusively to the water wars.

EACH COLUMN WILL APPEAR IN THE FORMAT OF A NEWSPAPER ARTICLE.
THERE WILL BE A GRAPHIC DESIGNED SPECIFICALLY TO IDENTIFY THE
BY-LINE "ALTA CALIFORNIA".

Tyranny of the Downbeat
ALTA CALIFORNIA
--------------------------------------------------------------THE WATER WARS
By Stephan Harrington
OF THE RECORD STAFF
A California congressman once said it would be the beginning
of "World War III." Others have referred to it as "a holy war."
Are they speaking of politics? Of religion? Or economics?
No, none of the above.
They are talking about the control of water.
It will now be my job in this column to report from the
front; to detail the battles and the casualties.
This is the first of my communiques. It is short, but, in
it, I would like to repeat the most critical question; one posed
by Karen E. Claus:
"How, in a water-short state, can we justify using precious
water to grow subsidized surplus crops in an area that generates
an effluent so huge, toxic, and unpredictable that it is killing
farming, land, and wildlife on a grand scale?"
It will be my duty to answer.

233

Tyranny of the Downbeat

234
CHAPTER 15

The crops are all in
And the peaches are rotting.
The oranges are packed
You're flying em back
To the Mexican border
To wade back again.
Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita.
Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria.
You won't have a name,
When you ride the big airplane.
And all they will call you
Will be deportee.
Some of us are illegal
And others not wanted.
Our work contract's out
And we've got to move on.
600 miles to that Mexican border
They chase us like outlaws,
Like rustlers, like thieves.
You won't have a name,
When you ride the big airplane.
And all they will call you
Will be deportee.
-- W. Guthrie & M. Hoffman, "Deportee (Plane Wreck at Los Gatos")
Author James Houston describes himself as a "California
journalist."

He is a Native Son of the Golden West; an observer

of the Golden State.

He was born here and still lives here.

He

has made it the goal of his life to know as much as he can about
this place called California.

What he has written is why he's

here; a celebrity with something to say.
He's comfortable in front of the camera.
before.

He speaks deliberately, but enthusiastically.

authority and a little sparkle of humor.
DISSOLVE:

He's done this
With

Tyranny of the Downbeat

235

MUSIC CHANGE: UP FULL THEN UNDER
THEME #13: "Deportee"
82

EXT. FIELD - MEDIUM SHOT - EARLY MORNING

JAMES HOUSTON walks toward CAMERA through a vast, flat panorama
of cultivated fields.
JAMES HOUSTON
Economically and ecologically, the history of
the West has been a saga of exploitation,
land abuse, bloody struggle, and enormous
thefts. Of gold, land, water. Like the
Southern Pacific railroad, "The Octopus,"
swindling Central Valley wheat farmers out of
their land. Like Los Angeles, stealing water
from Owens Valley farmers.
83

EXT. FIELD - CLOSE UP

HOUSTON stops.

CAMERA holds.
HOUSTON
Like the factory farms, exploiting the
migrant workers.

DISSOLVE:
84

EXT. STREET - EARLY MORNING - ESTABLISHING SHOT

Handheld POV walking through streets.
HOUSTON (v.o.)
It's 4AM. Shape-up time in Kettleman City.
Mendota. Los Banos. Selma. Any number of
cities up and down the Valley.
85

EXT. STREET - MEDIUM SHOT

Groups of migrant workers mill around, waiting.
and talk and wait.

They smoke

They stand under sodium-vapor lights along
the main street of these cities. Waiting.
86

EXT. STREET - CLOSE UP

Labor contractor walks into group and points to a half-dozen
workers who follow him to a bus parked nearby.

Tyranny of the Downbeat
Until they are selected by one of the dozens
of labor contractors who park their buses in
the gas stations and
fast-food outlets that serve as pick-up
points.
87

MONTAGE

Series of shots of faces. Some look unblinking into the
camera. Others turn away. A few cover their faces.
Those chosen wait in the buses, or stand
around on the sidewalk for hours, holding
their places, shielding their faces. They
are Chicano, Black, White, Asian.
88

EXT. FIELDS - MORNING - MEDIUM SHOT

GROUND LEVEL SHOT of buses pulling up. Series of shots of
workers exiting buses to work in fields.
Finally, they are driven to the fields for a
day's work. They return each afternoon
between two and four. They eat, sleep, and
get up the following morning to do it all
over again. For starvation wages. Without
medical or vacation benefits.
89

EXT. FIELDS - LATE AFTERNOON - MEDIUM CLOSE UP

Worker in field.
WORKER
"Solamente trabajo y duermo."
HOUSTON (v.o.)
"All I do is work and sleep," he says.
90

EXT. FIELDS - MEDIUM SHOT

CAMERA DOLLIES BACK to follow HOUSTON as he walks through a grape
field.
HOUSTON
These are the migrant workers. The ones who
have given their blood to the crops they
harvest. Since the Gold Rush, they have been
as much a part of California agriculture as
the land, sun, and water.
DISSOLVE:

236

Tyranny of the Downbeat

91

MONTAGE

Series of B&W stills of migrant workers from Gold Rush era until
today.
HOUSTON (v.o.)
California agriculture has always needed
large numbers of migrant workers for seasonal
jobs. Such a lifestyle was most acceptable
to nonwhite immigrants. And they came in
waves. And they have been mistreated and
abused for just as long. First the Chinese,
then the Japanese, then the Filipinos. The
Dust Bowl expatriates broke the pattern, but
the Chicanos continued it. Now it's the
Vietnamese. Driven from their home by a war
they didn't start and didn't want.
DISSOLVE:
92

INT. OFFICE - MEDIUM CLOSE UP

Interview with a Southeast Asian SOCIAL WORKER in Mendota.
SOCIAL WORKER (v.o.)
America is an adversary society. Asian
culture is not that way. The part of our
culture that is commendable, that does not
want to complain, works against us. Because
of that, generations have been taken
advantage of, pushed around.
DISSOLVE:
93

MONTAGE

Series of B&W stills of Manzanar and other Japanese internment
camps during World War II.
HOUSTON (v.o.)
This reluctance to complain is just a part of
the willingness to carry one's load. This
stoic acceptance permitted the US government
to intern an entire generation of Japanese
Americans. To take their land and money.
And return neither. To separate families.
And never apologize. "Shi kata ganai," the
elders would say. "It cannot be helped. It
must be endured."
DISSOLVE:

237

Tyranny of the Downbeat

94

EXT. STREET - WIDE SHOT

Series of shots of Southeast Asians living at poverty level
in ramshackle huts at the outskirts of valley towns like
Mendota.
HOUSTON (v.o.)
That is why Southeast Asian renters do not
complain to their landlords. About high
rents. About rats. Why they choose to toil
in the fields for nearly nothing. They fear
something worse. They too have spent time in
camps. Refugee camps. Set
up to handle those fleeing the aftermath of a
war that America
helped escalate.
95

INT. OFFICE - CLOSE UP

Continue interview with social worker.
SOCIAL WORKER
Their instinct to survive is strong. They
adapt very quickly, despite the culture
shock. They have gone through so much
getting here that finding a job is easy.
96

EXT. STREET - MEDIUM SHOT

Shot of HOUSTON standing near housing in Mendota.
HOUSTON
For these Asian immigrants, California was
not the end of a continent. It was a new
land to the East. A land of limitless
possibilities. A new beginning. But the
possibilities were not without their price.
DISSOLVE:
97

MONTAGE

Series of news stories on violence in cotton, grape, and
tomatoe fields in the Central Valley, as well as violence in
schools between whites and Southeast Asian students.
HOUSTON (v.o.)
As before, their story is the story of all
migratory labor. One of violence and
repression. Because they worked cheaply at
anything, they took jobs from others.

238

Tyranny of the Downbeat
Usually Anglos, sometimes Chicanos. The
Anglos really didn't want the jobs, but they
weren't about to admit it. In a time of mild
recession and joblessness, it gave them an
opportunity to vent their anger and
frustration.
DISSOLVE:
98

EXT. COTTON FIELDS - LATE AFTERNOON - ESTABLISHING SHOT

AERIAL SHOT of cotton fields near Fresno.
HOUSTON (v.o.)
Not much has changed in the factory fields of
California, nearly 140 years after the Gold
Rush. The farms have gotten bigger.
99

EXT. FIELD - WIDE SHOT

GROUND LEVEL shot of same fields. Series of shots of Asians
and Chicanos working side-by-side in cotton fields near
Fresno. In the BACKGROUND, can see a large pesticide spray
rig.
HOUSTON(v.o.)
Agriculture here still relies on the sun. It
still must have land and water. Massive
amounts of both. It still needs large
numbers of migratory workers. The abuse and
misuse hasn't stopped either. It may be
covered less by the media these days, but it
still exists. And the vast majority of the
workers here--the Southeast Asians and
Hispanics--still do not complain.
100

EXT. FIELD - MONTAGE

Series of shots of Southeast Asians working in fields, eating
lunch, using spray rigs.
HOUSTON (v.o.)
They accept what they can get with gratitude.
Despite the fact they live in hovels, eat
food that is often spoiled and water that is
poisoned, and are exposed daily to levels of
pesticides that are considered dangerous,
even for lab animals. In fact, many consider
these field hands to be the real guinea pigs.
101

EXT. FIELD - MEDIUM SHOT

239

Tyranny of the Downbeat

240

GROUND LEVEL shot of workers. They duck in fear as a
helicopter, spraying in the next field, banks over them and
heads back for another pass.
HOUSTON (v.o.)
They are the ones taking the direct hit,
whether it's from a leaking spray cannister
or from an aerial sprayer. And that's what
is truly ironic. The helicopters doing the
spraying are often the same ones that dropped
napalm and Agent Orange on these villagers
and their families decades ago in a jungle
far, far away. And they're being flown now
by many of the same men who flew missions
then into America's heart of darkness.
MUSIC:

UP FULL THEN OUT

BREAK POINT IN DOCUMENTARY
After a day in the grape fields near Rolinda
A fine silt, washed by sweat,
Has settled into the lines
On my wrists and palms.
Already I am becoming the valley,
A soil that sprouts nothing
For any of us.
-- Gary Soto, "Field"
You could see the flat-bed trucks coming through the haze on
the highway.
watching.

The farmworkers kept picking.

And waiting.

expecting the visit.

So were the Bulls.

But they were
Like they had been

The field man headed for his truck.

He was

on the phone to the field office when the trucks pulled up,
turned around, and pointed the flat-end toward the fields.

In a

moment, the scenery was up and the stage set.
After almost twenty years, "La Drama del Coyote" was back in
session.

The audience was different.

Southeast Asian as much as

Chicano.

Home was Hanoi as much as Nogales.

But the message

Tyranny of the Downbeat

hadn't changed.

Resistance.

241

Human dignity.

Individual rights.

Protection against inhuman and unsafe working conditions.
times past, Daniel and Socorro played husband and wife.

As in
His

brother and the rest of "la familia" were costumed as they had
been nearly two decades ago, wearing masks and signs hanging from
their necks.
By the time the ranch manager and the rest of his crew
arrived, the guerillas had begun.
picking now.

They were listening.

Coyotes" were also watching.

The workers had stopped
They were talking.

The crowd.

The first "acto" was innocent enough.
It told of migrating birds.

"Los

Closely.
It sang of cycles.

It cried for the killing of the

wetlands.
The painted backdrop shows the rolling foothills rimming the
Valley. In the foreground are rows of grape vines. At center
stage, MUNDO and the field contractor HAGGARD stand together. At
their feet is a pesticide spray rig.
HAGGARD: (Gesturing to the tank.) Mundo?
MUNDO: (Looks up, but doesn't respond.)
HAGGARD: You listenin' to me, boy?
MUNDO: (Head down, as if he's about to be hit.) Senor?
HAGGARD: I want you to put on this rig and spray these last 40
rows? Comprendo?
MUNDO: (Looking up, but not into the eyes of HAGGARD.) But,
Senor Field Man, the helicopters only just sprayed, ayer. It is
too soon to return to the fields. It will make me infiermo, si?
HAGGARD: It don't make no difference. It ain't gonna hurt you.
It's only water with a little chemical in it. Shit, you probably
get more poison in that dog-meat burrito you get for lunch down
at the canal bank.
MUNDO: My wife makes my lunch.
HAGGARD: (Moves closer, growing impatient with the Campesino's
resistance.) Do what I say, Mundo, or I make a call to
Immigration and ship you and all your family back to TJ.
MUNDO: (Stepping back.) I was born here.
HAGGARD: Still don't make no difference. They're just looking

Tyranny of the Downbeat
for a head count. They'll take you anyway. And then how you
gonna feed that lovely chiquita and all your ninos?
(Silence. They look at each other.)
MUNDO: I will manage.
HAGGARD: (Suddenly grabs MUNDO and shoves him to his knees, face
down against the nozzle of the sprayer.) Put it on amigo or I
kick your ass and then I call the Border Patrol!
MUNDO: (Frightened, but resolved.) Senor Field Man. The
sprayer leaks. And there is no mask. No coat to cover me.
HAGGARD: (Leans down and puts his face next to MUNDO'S.) Like I
told you. It's mostly water. It ain't gonna hurt you.
MUNDO: Senor, the water here is not good. I have seen the dogs
die that drink it. I will die, too.
HAGGARD: That sure as shit don't mean nothin' to me. I got
plenty of you people comin' across the border every day. What's
one more dead beaner to me? Might be better anyway. Keep you
from breedin' like rabbits. (Suddenly kicks MUNDO in the ribs.)
Put it on asshole! Now!
MUNDO: (Still on his knees, slowly puts the sprayer on. He
stands.)
HAGGARD: Right. Now start on row 50.
MUNDO: (Tests the sprayer. It works. The tank begins to leak
down his back, which is only protected by a cotton shirt. He
turns toward row 50. HAGGARD reaches for a cigarette. But his
hand never gets there. MUNDO hits him hard across the face with
the spray nozzle. HAGGARD falls to the ground and rolls over on
his back. MUNDO straddles him and begins spraying into the field
man's open face. MUNDO drenches HAGGARD before he hits him in
the head with the tank. HAGGARD doesn't move. MUNDO throws the
tank away and begins to shout.)
This is los Estados Unidos. I was born here. I am un hombre
libre. I will do ...
Before Daniel can finish his last line, the Bulls, with help
from a handful of county sheriffs, ring down the curtain. They
jump on stage, Louisville sluggers in hand, and start swinging.
Daniel takes a hit on the shoulder and goes down. The Bull who
hit him raises his club and smiles. Then he's airborne. Someone
finally got the truck rolling, barreling down and out of the
fields. As it pulls onto the country road, through the dust,
Daniel can see the field workers, Bulls, and officers hammering
each other. He can only think, this war will not be won with
words. Then he crawls forward to lay against the painted valley.
He said we made a good couple because I had no
expectations and he had too many."
"I don't like talking about my past as much as you guys do."
"I haven't met that many happy people in my life. How do
they act?"
-- Lawrence Kasdan, "The Big Chill"

242

Tyranny of the Downbeat

243

I dial through the channels.
avoid her eyes.
communication.

She stares out the window.

Anger without expression or explanation.
There it is between us.

don't talk, don't lay it to rest.
until one of us leaves.

Always happens.

I

No
We

We simply get more angry,

How does it start?

Why?

This time,

like a lot of other times, it was over something stupid,
something petty.

She had reached into the cupboard to get us

both coffee mugs.

She accidentally knocked one off the shelf.

Unfortunately, it was one of my favorites.

A large brown one.

With the name "RALSTON" across the front and a stylized version
of the archway across the top.

I liked it because it

represented something of home to me.

A tie with the past.

place and a past she wanted to get away from.
symbol to her.

Maybe it wasn't.

Maybe it was a

I don't know.

As we picked up the pieces, I joked, "Nice try.
it, so you smash it."

A

Can't beat

I laughed, but it died pretty quickly when

I realized there was an edge to the joke.

She stood up and threw

the pieces in the sink.

As she left the kitchen, I said, "Come

on, I was only kidding.

It was a joke.

Lighten up."

I poured the hot coffee and knew I was in for a chilly day.
Another one in a long line.
fun.

It was getting worse.

It was no

I couldn't even kid her without pissing her off anymore.

So, why try?

So, now we're sitting on opposite sides of the

room, deep in our isolation.
Her affair hurt.

I won't deny it.

I had been betrayed.

Our safe, comfortable life had been breached.

It felt like

Tyranny of the Downbeat

244

someone had just robbed the house, or broken into the trunk of
my car and stolen everything inside.
emotionally raped.
it.

I felt violated,

I knew why she did it.

I couldn't accept it.

I could understand

Our sex life sucked.

It was

important to her, inconsequential to me.

We'd discussed it,

battled over it, but never resolved it.

We talked around it,

with couples over coffee, with friends over drinks.
justified, righteous in our indignation.
one at fault.

We each felt

I, she, we were not the

But we never told each other that.

It's been said, "We choose things by letting them happen."
That certainly was what was happening between us.

Her affair

made it easier for me to justify my indifference.

If I ignored

this one, and the next, it would be simple to just separate.
keep living independent lives.
else.

To rationalize trying something

That's what we both wanted, I guess.

didn't want to lose the net.

To

Sometimes.

But we

We didn't want to give up fifteen

years of companionship, of memories, shared experiences, of
friendship.

That's probably what we both feared the most.

We

realized, above everything else, we were still each other's
closest friend.

We had known each other, blemishes and all, and

been together longer than we had with most of our closest
friends.

It held us together now, although we just couldn't seem

to find the time, inclination, or words to tell the other.
we, we might have stayed together.

We didn't and

...

Had

we

didn't.
Call me naive.
Perhaps too much.

Say I'm an innocent.

But I trust people.

I think that comes from growing up in Ralston,

Tyranny of the Downbeat

245

the insularity of a small town.
"It's a Wonderful Life."
part of their lives.

It's like Bedford Falls in

When you know everyone, you're really

You take care of each other.

the benefit of the doubt.

You give them

Of course, as a town grows, as Ralston

did, you lose that sense of community.

But, until you've been

screwed a few times, you never seem to lose that faith in people.
I never have.
I remember a surprise birthday party she gave me on my 35th
birthday.

I was completely surprised.

Later, as I thought about

the events that led up to it, it made sense.
clues.

I could see the

But when I walked through the back door, I had no idea.

I never knew, never suspected about the party.
or suspected about the affair.

And yet, when I think back on it

now too, all the clues were there.
nights.

And I never knew

The phone calls.

The late

I just didn't see them, or, maybe I chose not to.

wasn't aware.

I trusted her.

I

I gave her the benefit of the

doubt.
That's where Jorge and I used to differ.

We're a lot closer

now than we were in college in our attitudes toward women.
was a raging chauvinist, I made an effort not to be.

He

It would

have been easier, then and certainly now, to play the expected
role.

But I wanted to be different.

treat women as an equal.

Liberated.

I wanted it to work.

I wanted to
Now that he's

lived with a woman for almost fifteen years, his posture has
changed.

But what's really funny is how we find ourselves

back-peddling, reverting, looking for shelter in a forgotten
attitude.

Because we've had the fight kicked out of us.

And we

Tyranny of the Downbeat

246

keep on talking about it.
seem to get it right.

All the time.

Because we just can't

We just can't seem to please them, no

matter what we do.
As the oldest of friends, we'd had these talks many, many
times over many, many late nights.
serious.

Sometimes funny.

We'd been here before over the years.

Most times

Talking about

his first marriage, my mother's death, his planned re-marriage,
my own marriage, and life in the big valley.
"You fought back."
"And you tried to adjust."
"Then it was no fun.

The thrill was gone."

"Yea, and the big chill was on."
"The movie?"
"A magazine."
"It's just so damned hard.

Sometimes I'd rather play

softball, get some pizza, and go home to the tube than deal with
it."
"And fondle your electronic penis."
"That's what some deviants call it."
"And they wonder why there's no men in their beds."
"Have you ever thought about growing old alone?"
"Sure."
"Does it scare you?"
"Yes.

But I don't know what's worse.

different for us, people our age.
be more of us when we get older.
"At least in numbers."

Besides, it's

There's more of us.
We won't be alone."

There'll

Tyranny of the Downbeat

247

"Anyway, I've got my family.
laugh at the standing joke.
forget everything.
time.

And the Mud Bowlers."

They

Fellow "Bowlers" always forgive and

Especially if it's fantasy.

But not this

Here I was in Ralston running away from the eyes of

reality and into the arms of illusion.

And he was calling me on

it.
"You know, it's not quite working out the way it was
supposed to."
Jorge put "Traffic" on the tape deck, sat down, and popped
open a fresh beer.
"I thought I'd be a hero.
it.

Show all these people I had made

That I had escaped the valley and returned unscarred.

I

mean, I feel I had something to prove."
"Especially after going to our last reunion and seeing
everyone twenty years later."
"That's right.
like an outcast.

But just the opposite's happening.

I feel

I've pissed off so many people, even some

friends, that I can't even live in the town where I grew up.

The

place I've wanted to live all my life."
"You mean the myth you've made up all your life."
"Maybe.
going to die.

This is where I feel I belong.

This is where I was

I don't feel comfortable anyplace else.

And now I

can't stay."
"You can't go home anymore."
"Literary bullshit.
before.

I could have come home.

But I was trying too hard this time.

I've done it

Pushing too hard.

I want desperately to be accepted, to be a part of this

Tyranny of the Downbeat

community.

248

To be a leader.

To be looked up to."

"The place you remember is history.

It doesn't exist.

It's

a state of mind.

We're not living in a town of 50,000 anymore.

Not even 90,000.

Shit, we're almost as big as Albany, New York.

It's a metropolis.
it as it is.

With all the problems that go with it.

Take

You're living too much in the past."

"Yea, but you double your days that way."
"You know, you're like the guy who gets so wrapped up in the
past, he forgets the present.

So immersed in what he was, he

forgets what he is."
"Likely won't be the last time."
"Well, you know what they say?

Embracing the past is like

embracing death."
"Literary again.

I never could keep up with your

allusions."
"Metaphors and parables aside, it's nothing more than a
self-fulfilling prophecy.
to, not because you had to.

You came back here because you wanted
You made up a reason to return.

Only the ending isn't the way you wrote it.
live with it.

But you can still

You can still live here."

"I understand that intellectually.

Emotionally, I can't

accept it."
"At least my references are literary.

Yours are getting

positively Freudian."
"Fuck you."
"No, fuck you."
"How many people do you know that left the valley and

Tyranny of the Downbeat

249

came back?"
"Just about everyone but you."
"Okay.

They all came back.

People can't escape this place.

They try, but they always come back."
"Remember Jimmie King?"
"Sure.

Our senior class president.

"He thought the same way you do.

Berkeley burn-out."

Felt he had to come back.

Thought he'd lost something along the way.
Tried a lot of things.
they used to be.
left off.

So, he came back.

Tried to fit back into things the way

Old times.

Figured he could pick up where he

Thought that people would relate to him like they used

to."
"This is all sounding very familiar."
"Despite what everyone said, in spite of all the warnings,
he returned.

His wife wouldn't come with him, even though she'd

been raised in the valley, too.
was driving him.

She just didn't understand what

What the attraction was."

"You sure this isn't another parable, for you know who?"
"Anyway, he's back and it's fun.
sours.

For a while.

But it

Because the town's changed, the people've changed, and

he's changed.

It doesn't meet his expectations.

really work out.

So he starts to drink more.

It doesn't

Does more drugs."

"I don't do drugs."
"Then, one night, they find him floating in his own blood.
A suicide.

He just couldn't cope.

The illusion was shattered.
to return to.

Things had changed too much.

He had created this mythical place

And when it wasn't there, he was no where.

His

Tyranny of the Downbeat

250

expectations were too high.

Of himself, his friends, his family,

and this place he once called home."
"So, what're you saying to me?
"Relax.
the past.

What're telling me?"

Don't try to make the present into a new version of

You keep trying to reconcile the past with the present

and you'll wind up alienating everyone you know.

Regress too

far, live in the past too much, and you'll stagnate.
there.

It's like a time machine.

You'll die

If you don't hit that seam,

that crack in the mirror, you'll end up in limbo forever."
"Does that mean I can't watch 'American Graffiti' anymore?"
"Smart ass.
I've said it.
forever.

Look you've heard it before.

Even you've said it.

Sandy's said it.

You can't stay seventeen

You keep trying to go back to a place that exists only

in your mind and you're setting yourself up for a fall.

A real

disappointment."
"I'm diein' to try."
"Then you'll die tryin'."
He got me.

The last word.

He was right.

And I toast him.

Wolfe was right.

You can never go home again

because you've changed and so has your home town.
recognize it any more.
different place.

You're a different person.

You don't
It's a

You've moved on to become something else and it

holds no more lessons.

The places and names are the same and

look the same, but, for you, they've definitely changed.
Ralston indeed had a new shape and was seeking a new image.
The farmers were leaving and the commuters were coming.
homelessness, mall sprawl, crime, illiteracy, and racism.

Poverty,
The

Tyranny of the Downbeat

251

place most travelers remembered as somewhere they passed through
on their way to someplace else was going urban.
defined by the land.

Then water.

Once it was

And the railroads.

the endless freeway, lost hope, and shattered dreams.
desperate bleakness.
roads.

Now it's
There is a

People are running each other off the

Women are being raped at the mall.

Kids are bringing

guns to school; murdering those who would befriend them.
He remembered the story of a teacher at Dewey High School.
He was a good teacher; a caring teacher.
help his students.
hard-luck cases.
was a bachelor.

He genuinely wanted to

Occasionally, he would offer money to the
Most of the students thought he was rich.

Some of the community thought he was gay.

He
One

weekend the police found him sprawled face-first on his concrete
driveway, his body slashed and riddled with bullets.

Turns out

that one of the students he had assisted, his brother and
girlfriend, had forced their way into his home and tortured him
trying to find his hidden fortune.
easy.

They expected it.

somebody owed it to them.
made.

They were looking for the big

Life had been hard and they felt
They were angry at a world they never

Unfortunately, he had no money.

And they killed him.

It was indeed a town without pitney.

DISSOLVE:
MUSIC CHANGE: UP FULL THEN UNDER
THEME #14: Folk Song
102

EXT. RIVER JUNCTION - ESTABLISHING SHOT

WIDE SHOT of point where the Merced River meets the San Joaquin.

Tyranny of the Downbeat
NARRATOR (v.o.)
To see where the Merced River meets the San
Joaquin is to see the drawing of the lines.
The two sides of the story. The one is clear
and clean, filled with icy snowmelt. The
other is muddy and murky, gunky brown and
filled with chemicals. During the summer,
when it's hot and dry and the water is low,
almost 70 percent of what flows is
agricultural runoff.
103

EXT. RIVER - MEDIUM WIDE SHOT

Shot of San Joaquin River from its surface.
Floating down the San Joaquin are all kinds
of chemicals. All of them are on the EPA's
list of priority pollutants. A brew that
makes this one of the most heavily polluted
rivers in the state.
104

EXT. FIELDS - WIDE SHOT

Agricultural runoff from fields drains into ditches which dump
into the Delta.
Most of this pollution comes from surface and
subsurface agricultural drainage. The Delta
itself adds more pesticides and herbicides
from agriculture.
105

EXT. FIELDS - WIDE SHOT

Shots of farmers flood irrigating lands.
Most of the contamination results from
conventional application. And an
increasingly common method of irrigation
called chemigation, where water is mixed with
pesticides and then applied. Large farmers
flood irrigate because it's cheaper and
easier. But it makes the drainage problem
worse.
106

EXT. RIVER - MEDIUM SHOT

San Joaquin draining into the Delta.
Every year, millions of pounds of chemicals
that can cause cancer, birth defects or
sterility, even in trace amounts, are

252

Tyranny of the Downbeat
released directly or indirectly into our
waterways. With the
approval, sanction, and authority of state
and federal agencies.
107

EXT. WILDLIFE REFUGE - ESTABLISHING SHOT

AERIAL SHOT of Tranquility Canal near Masterson.
The total runoff could eventually reach
nearly 400,000 acre-feet a year. A virtual
ocean of sludge moving through the valley,
filling up wildlife marshes and ultimately
discharging into the Delta.
108

EXT. RIVER - MEDIUM SHOT

Shot of San Joaquin River flowing near homes.
The problem is, the water from the Delta is
the primary source of fresh water for the
state. 55 percent comes from here. 16
million people rely on it for their drinking
water.
109

EXT. CARQUINEZ STRAITS - ESTABLISHING SHOT
And there's only one destination for the
wastewater carried by the Delta. The end of
the San Joaquin sewer line is destined to be
...

CAMERA PANS LEFT to frame San Francisco Bay.
San Francisco Bay. The 5 million people who
live here pollute the bay badly enough
themselves, even if they don't admit it. But
to have a bunch of farmers, grown wealthy on
"their" water and subsidized by their taxes,
sending it back to the bay full of crud-toxic wastes, selenium, boron, and salt--is
just not acceptable.
110

EXT. SAN FRANCISCO - ESTABLISHING SHOT

AERIAL FLY-BY of San Francisco.
The people of the Bay Area appear to have the
political clout to prevent the drain water
from ever reaching here. And they seem
determined to use it. Because the San
Joaquin Valley farmers asked for water and

253

Tyranny of the Downbeat
got it. Asked for subsidies and got them.
And now they want to use the bay as a toilet.
MUSIC:

UP FULL THEN OUT

BREAK POINT IN DOCUMENTARY

254

Tyranny of the Downbeat

255
CHAPTER 16

You men eat your dinner,
Eat your pork and beans.
I eat more chicken
Any man ever seen.
I'm a back door man.
The men don't know, but
The little girls understand.
-- W. Dixon & C. Burnett, "Back Door Man"
The Ice Plant backs onto what used to be the main highway,
running parallel to the original pathfinder:
the Southern Pacific railroad tracks.

the raised bed of

Businesses once lined both

sides, and thrived, until the six-lane expressway was built down
the spine of the state.
derelicts moved in.

Then the doors started closing and the

When the downtown renovation began, some of

the older buildings were razed.
ice plant.

One that survived was the old

A developer with a sense of history turned it into

ultra-modern office space, while maintaining the original
interior fixtures.
cogs and wheels.

Now aluminum and plexiglass mixed with iron
The production had rented space here for those

days it spent in town; which was rapidly becoming most of the
time.
Elliot was scrunched down in his chair, chin onhand,
reviewing the papers in front of him.
as I scanned my own.

I sipped a decaf tea

Greybeard Devereaux was pulling at it.

Walsh listened, distracted, but interested.

This woman came from

the same world.

--Elliot (preoccupied)
deCamp?"

"What do you know about Laura Van

Tyranny of the Downbeat

--Devereaux
Attractive.

256

"Lawyer.

Republican.

Intelligent.

Divorced."

--Western (quietly apologetic)
little better."

Heads turn.

"I probably know her a

"She's an old friend of my wife's.

Roomed in the same boarding house in San Francisco.

Her ex- and

I see each other once in a while."
--Walsh (surprised)

"So why didn't she come to you

directly?"
--Western (visibly confused)

"I'm not sure.

Maybe she

doesn't trust me."
--Elliot (interested)

"What else can you tell us?"

--Western (litanous)
inherited his seat.

"Her Father was a congressman.

Died a few years ago.

Has a younger sister.

Borba

Mother's still alive.

Laura works for Delancy & Reed in Ralston.

Mostly lobbying in Sac for water and table grape interests."
--Elliot (intrigued)

"Delancy & Reed.

That's DiGiulio's

law firm?"
--Devereaux (righteous)

"Correct.

And the law firm that's

keeping Masterson open so the Westlanders can keep dumping shit
into the Delta."
--Elliot

"Well, seems she's having second thoughts about

whose side she's on."
--Western (in turn surprised)

"What makes you say that?"

--Elliot (smiling, about to let the cat out of the bag)
"Well, I can't imagine any other reason she'd be waiting out in
reception right now."
--Walsh (cautious)

"Any idea why?"

Tyranny of the Downbeat

--Elliot

257

"Ask her yourself."

Laura, as usual, was in total control of herself.
in the offered seat, relaxed but attentive.
quick hello, excused himself.

She sat

Devereaux, after a

Walsh and I stayed.

Laura didn't

seem too surprised to see me.
--Elliot (slightly uncomfortable)

"Forgive me, but it

bothers me a little that someone from 'the other camp' would be
visiting our side just now."
--Laura (defensive)

"You're making this sound like a

battleground."
--Devereaux (brusquely)

"We all know it is."

--Walsh (a little oily)

"Your side could certainly use a

'Trojan horse' and you'd certainly make an attractive one."
--Laura (bristling at the sexist remark)

"The way I look

has nothing to do with how good I am at what I do.
soon realize that this is my idea.

Nobody from 'the other camp',

as you so colorfully put it, knows I'm here.
to let it become common knowledge.

And you'll

And I don't intend

And I suspect you wouldn't

want that either."
--Elliot (continuing)

"Just how much do you know about

this project and our plans?"
--Laura (relaxing)

"Only what I've heard around the office

and read in the papers, which isn't much.

My boss, Mr. Delancy,

and his clients, haven't exactly been spreading the word around."
--Elliot "What's your sense of what we're trying to
accomplish?"

Tyranny of the Downbeat

258

--Laura (conciliatory)
then I'd like to help.
give you both.
that.

"I would like to know more.

And

You need legal and political help.

There will be a trial eventually.

I can

We all know

So it can't hurt to have someone like me on your side.

And I've been involved with agriculture most of my life.
lobbied for most of these people.

I've

I know them well."

--Elliot (a little harder edge)

"Tell me why I should

accept your offer?"
--Laura (defensive again)

"Partly because I don't like

what I'm seeing."
--Walsh (pressing)

"Where?

And what?"

--Laura (trying to ignore the edge in his voice)
valley.

In this town.

these people.

"In this

Things I'm aware of because I work for

Professional concerns, mainly."

--Elliot (working her very carefully)

"Mainly?

Sounds like

there may be personal ones, too?"
--Laura (wrestling with something)
with my mother and father.

"Some of it has to do

Some things I'd like to even up."

--Walsh (sensing familiar territory)

"Like?"

--Laura (curious why he's so interested)
anything to do with this discussion.

"Nothing that has

Just things that happened

in the past."
--Walsh (pushing)

"Anything to do with Delancy or Borba?

Maybe DiGiulio?"
--Laura (retreating)

"No.

And perhaps."

--Elliot (a little impatient)
have you decided to talk with us?"

"So why are you here?

Why

Tyranny of the Downbeat

259

--Laura (finished with the fencing, takes a deep breath)
"There's this man I know.
each other for years.

He's also from Ralston.

We've known

He and my ex-husband were part of a thing

called 'The Mud Bowl.'" (she looks over at me)
--Western (breaking my silence)

"That's the 'once in a

while' I was talking about earlier." (Elliot's confusion prompts
further explanation)

"It's a football game.

A bunch of guys,

people I've known most of my life, who went to high school
together, get together every Thanksgiving morning and play a flag
football game.

Revert to being seventeen again."

--Elliot (absently)

"I know something about that."

--Laura (smiles and continues, addressing me)

"One of the

participants, someone you used to know, is the real reason I'm
here."
--Western
--Laura

"Your ex?"
(protective)

"No.

Someone a little crazier.

Paul

Daniels."
--Western (off-guard)

"You're kidding me?

was on the road doing Kerouac or something.

I thought he

He hasn't been to a

Bowl in years."
--Laura (off-handed)
on for a short while now.
us.

We're not serious.

"We've been seeing each other off and
And I'm a little worried.

Just good friends." (Walsh gives me a

wink that doesn't go unnoticed)
about his past.
Or let me.
again)

Not about

He's been telling me some things

He's in real danger, but he won't ask for help.

Won't even tell his friends." (she looks over at me

"What he's told me, if I understand what you're doing,

Tyranny of the Downbeat

might help you.

And him.

260

He could use a little help from his

old friends right now."
I used to call him by his poker-playing nickname:
the Kid," this sometime friend of mine.
rest of us, in Ralston.

"Billie

He grew up, like the

He, comfortably, in a perfect, upper

middle-class neighborhood in the All-American city.
was a teacher, his father an architect.

His mother

He never went without.

Always wore the latest clothes, dated the most popular girls, got
one of the first and fastest cars.

He did well in athletics and

passably well in school. He was a diver and swimmer on the first
team Davidson High School ever had.

He won state titles off the

short board and in the individual medley.

Through hard work, he

carried the tone and grace of a swimmer into the approaching
years of middle age.
Growing up, life was not completely "Ozzie and Harriet."

He

lived in the shadow of an older brother he couldn't stand.
Little Rickie and brother David this was not.

There was only

five years difference in their ages, but they were generations
apart in their attitudes toward careers, women, the races, sex,
politics, and, especially, the military and Vietnam.

They never

really got past the rift caused by the last one, particularly
after his brother Dennis started calling him a coward and a queer
for not wanting to serve his country.
Billie reminded me a lot of Jim Morrison, the lead singer
for the "The Doors," who died of a drug overdose in a Paris
hotel.

Always living on the edge.

sexuality and sensuality.

Lighting fires with his

As Morrison sang, "The boys don't

Tyranny of the Downbeat

261

know, but the little girls understand."

Billie was a rebel

rocker, not in the style of a Fifties Dean or Brando, but more in the
style of those who lived too intensely in the sixties and
died from the heat.
Stones."

Morrison.

The experimenters.

Hendrix.

Brian Jones of "The

The iconoclasts.

this new freedom as their ticket to ride.
outrageous.

The ones who saw

The boy was simply too

And that kept the rest of his friends honest.

It

was surprising to find that the show, the craziness, masked a
basic shyness, insecurity, and self-doubt he tried to embarrass
out of existence.
Billie survived the years of experiment, but not without a
few burns on his fingertips and a few scars on his heart.

When

the revolution got quiet, he just kept blazing, kept his freak
flag flying.

When it got too uncomfortable, too predictable, he

just disappeared.

Took some time off.

Went to Europe.

Traveled

to Japan, where he developed a taste for oriental art and women.
He began collecting both.
and lifestyles.

He didn't stay with them, but they affected his

attitude toward life.
experience.

He dabbled in middle eastern religions

We thought it was all just one more life

Turns out he was actually running for his life.

Laura's request for a cup of coffee reeled me back to
reality.

She began telling what she had been told by Paul over

many nights and cognacs.
In 1967, Rosario Huerta died while striking for the UFW;
struck down one night in a vineyard owned by The Marriposa
Combine and sub-contracted to the DiGiulio Winery.
never solved.

The death was

But it provided a much-needed martyr, a death for

Tyranny of the Downbeat

262

"La Causa," at a time when the movement was faltering.
no case because there were no witnesses.

There was

No one came forward to

testify.
But there was evidence.

There was an "eye-witness."

telephoto night lens of a Sony "Porta-Pak."

The

Its unblinking eye

videotaped the beating that led to the grapeworker's death.
Behind the camera was a long-haired, burned-out, hippie drop-out
from San Jose State.

His brother-in-law, who worked for DiGiulio

in Ralston, had gotten him a summer job to help straighten him
out.

He was hired to videotape all the UFW demonstrations

against DiGiulio; instructed to get close-ups of the leaders.
The tapes would be used later to build court cases against Chavez
and the UFW.

The cameraman was Paul Daniels.

Earlier on that day, Billie decided a little recreational
drug-taking might help him through the night.

When the murder went

down, he was so strung out on acid he could barely see
straight.

The brutality snapped him out of it, but he still

couldn't believe his eyes, watching as the big guy kept hammering
the farmworker with a baseball bat until he was motionless.
playback made him sick to his stomach.

The

The sweating, wrenching

nightmares kept him awake most of the night.

And the next

several.
He never told anyone.
scared.

Never said anything.

Probably way too wired still.

He was too

He didn't give any reason

for quitting, which pissed off his brother-in-law, and left
town for the family cabin in Strawberry, above Sonora.
before he had safely vaulted the videotape.

But not

Tyranny of the Downbeat

263

It went on for a long while.
most of it was a purple haze.
He just kept moving.
world.

The nightmares.

Too many drugs.

Too much alcohol.

He stayed lost for years.

Making music.

Hanging out.

For Billie,

Traveling the

Avoiding the responsibility

for another person's life and the guilt he always felt.

During

those years, he came back to Ralston a few times, usually around
Thanksgiving.

Many times he thought he was being followed.

Maybe it was paranoia.
They knew he knew.

But he was.

Paranoid and being followed.

The death and his departure were too

coincidental.
It had taken a long time, but he had finally grown up.
Finally faced up to the burden of what he'd seen.
Now it was time to tell the story.
had died.

And run from.

There were rumors that others

That the same people were getting away with the same

things all these years later.

It was way past time.

Now abuse-free, his self-worth had become as clear as his
head.

He could finally face the demons that had chased him out

of town and around the world.

Now, twenty-plus years later, it

was time to share his secret.

Time to unload the guilt.

He

returned to California and settled under a new name in the urban
anonymity of San Francisco.

He re-established contact with a few

of the friends from his previous life, including me and Laura Van
deCamp.
Like the song, Billie believed women were the only true
works of art.

That woman is life and man the servant of life.

He worshipped them, feasted on a smile, the curve of a breast, a
turn of the wrist, the slope of back to buttocks in silhouette

Tyranny of the Downbeat

against a full moon.

264

He loved them all.

appreciated his attention.
seemed to care.

And they, in turn,

His tenderness.

His genuine concern.

Unusual for most men, even in the

post-feminist eighties.
But he found Laura to be a true revelation.

She seemed to

be the mate, the match, that we know is in this world for us.
Friend, lover, companion, confidant.

She was also gun-shy.

first marriage, and subsequent affairs, had seen to that.

Her
She

asked Billie to take it slow; that she was ready to be a
listener, not a lover.

And he accepted that.

For the time

being.
Then he told her.

Comfortable he knew her and could trust

her, he shared his secret.
it was.

About the murder, the tape, and where

And that he was worried about what they would do.

He

could feel the wolves closing in.
And, suddenly, he was gone again.

On Friday, he had told

her he wanted to get gut of town for a while.
things--about them and the future.
cabin to do a little fly-fishing.

To think about

He said he was going to the
He never made it.

He called

early Saturday to tell her he was fine, but it was necessary to
become scarce again.

That was the last she had heard.

And now,

she was sitting here, with them on Monday, looking like a
different person than the one who started the story.
--Elliot (exhaling)

"I thought you said this guy was a

friend of yours?"
--Western (defensive)
--Elliot (incredulous)

"I didn't say we were close."
"And you didn't know about this?"

He

Tyranny of the Downbeat

265

--Laura (in his defense)
--Elliot

"It only just happened."

"No, I mean about everything.

--Western (a little angry at himself)
once a year.

All of it."
"Hell, I see the guy

How am I supposed to know every detail of his

life?"
--Walsh (needling)
--Western (angry)

"Some kind of friend."
"Back off."

--Elliot (concerned)
--Laura (resigned)
--Western (anxious)
--Laura

"So, where is he?"
"I really don't know."
"Have you heard any more from him?"

"Not since the call on Saturday.

Not at work or on

the machine at home."
--Walsh

"What about the tape?

Did he take the tape?"

Laura pulled a black plastic box out of her briefcase.
held an antique.

An old half-inch, reel-to-reel tape.

It

A relic

of the video revolution.
--Elliot (almost laughing)
--Western

"This may take a miracle."

"Probably hasn't been played in twenty years."

--Elliot (sensing her concern)
protection copy.

"We'll make a clean

Then we'll vault it at the Ranch.

It'll be

safe there."
The technician cleaned off most of the oxide that had
accumulated over the years and threaded up the tape on an ancient
Sony 3650 half-inch machine.
times through.

It clogged the heads the first few

But, finally, the image tracked and became clear.

They began the transfer.

Twenty-some years and poor resolution

couldn't soften the brutality; or mask the identity of the

Tyranny of the Downbeat

murderer.

266

I leaned in closer.

--Western (blown away)
--Walsh

"That's Jon Henry Miller."

"Who?"

--Western

"One of the valley farmers I interviewed."

There was no doubt about it.
few less jowls and bellies.
put Huerta down

...

"This is incredible."

"Let's hope it'll help Billie."

--Laura (serious)
a secret.

It was his Louisville Slugger that

for good.

--Elliot (excited)
--Western

A bit younger and carrying a

"I've done what I can to keep this visit

I'd like you to do the same.

I need to know what they know.

I need their confidence.

I can only do that if they don't

know I was here."
--Western
--Walsh

"I wonder why he never told me?"
"Fear might have had something to do with it.

the fact that back then nothing would have been done."
--Laura
--Elliot

"I hope that's changed."
"I guarantee it."

And

Tyranny of the Downbeat

267
CHAPTER 17

late November: a sixty-knot
squall through Carquinez
Strait breaks
levees, backs salt water miles
inland to preserve
what it kills. ...
... only the doctor
salt-stained
like us in boots & overalls
scares us. our daughter crawls
through fever one week
then her mother the week after
dies. my wife,
still my wife, what I have
of you, this residue, this lovesalt, ...
-- Dennis Schmitz, "Delta Farm"
In Sausalito, there is a model of the Bay-Delta water
system.

It is so large that it fills an entire warehouse along

the waterfront.
ecosystem.

It is used to visually demonstrate the Bay-Delta

The man in charge, Felix Davenport, resembles a high

school history or geography teacher.
and large nose.

He's big, with an open face

He has a large head, bald, with bushy, white

sideburns and eyebrows.

He talks in a flat, non-accented,

monotonic valley voice, like all the rest of the transplanted
mid-westerners who live here.

He sounds like Hal Holbrook doing

Mark Twain.
On camera, Davenport looks good.
comfortable.

Looks believable, even

Felix Davenport had once been a very influential,

very powerful bureaucrat in California's Department of Fish and
Wildlife Services.

The FWS.

He had worked twenty-nine years

Tyranny of the Downbeat

there.

268

He was a "lifer," well on his way to pensioning out when

they told him they were transferring him out of Sacramento, to
the equivalent of Siberia in the Federal Bureaucracy.

Because he

knew a little too much and wasn't afraid to talk about it.
In the spring of 1982, a series of memoranda from the Office
of the Solicitor placed a gag order on FWS personnel, prohibiting
them from speaking about Masterson to reporters, legislators, or
environmental groups.
re-assigned him.

Davenport hadn't stopped, so they

Instead, he chose early retirement.

He moved

to San Francisco, then went to work for the "Bay-Delta
Institute," a satellite facility of San Francisco State
University; the only teaching and research institute dedicated
exclusively to San Francisco Bay and the delta.
But Davenport wasn't done with them yet.

He had been a

company man all of his life, had given his life's blood to the
government.
screwed.

And for all his time and dedication, he'd been

For being honest.

Now he wants to tell what he knows

to someone who would get the word out and who could be trusted.
We talk a while as the crew set up to shoot the interview
in front of the model.

Elliot decided to come along because it

was close to home.
"What happened?"
"The whip came down."
"How?"
"Intimidation.

Threats.

keeping our mouths shut."
"Who did?"

They tried to scare us into

Tyranny of the Downbeat

269

"Officials in the Interior Department."
"Why?"
"Because certain powerful people, very powerful people, told
them to."
"People in agribusiness?"
"People with money and influence."
"What'd you do?"
"I sang."
"About what?"
"Contamination of the wetlands.

Poisoning of birds in our

wildlife refuges."
"More specifically?"
"Westland farmers dumping agricultural runoff into
Masterson."
"What else?"
"People at the state and federal FWS covering it up."
"What were they doing?"
"Destroying documents.
evidence.

Slowing the process.

Hiding

Threatening anyone who talked to the press."

"With what?"
"Firing or transfers."
"What else?"
"They told us not to write our representatives.

They warned

us not to join any kind of environmental association or talk to
anyone in those groups.

And we weren't allowed to join any

professional organizations."
"Why not?"

Tyranny of the Downbeat

270

"Didn't want us sharing information with our peers.

Word

might get out."
"You said hiding evidence?"
"Any evidence we gathered that threatened the big farmers or
their political allies was systematically deleted or changed."
"What kind of evidence?"
"Evidence that they were exceeding the legal acreage limit.
Evidence that they were getting more subsidized water than they
were legally allowed.
their runoff.

That they were polluting the refuge with

That they were over-irrigating and creating a

selenium problem.

That they were not using pesticides correctly.

And that maybe some people had gotten sick, maybe even died,
because of their misuse.

Or possibly what they knew."

"And what happened to the people who collected this
evidence?"
"They were threatened or muzzled."
"You said documents were being destroyed or altered?"
"Some of our staff biologists said their reports were being
edited."
"By who?"
"Staff attorneys from the Regional Soliciter's Office."
"What were they editing?"
"Any facts that might be politically sensitive."
"Facts that pointed to the League and the big growers?"
He nods.
The crew is ready and we start shooting.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

DISSOLVE:
MUSIC CHANGE: UP FULL THEN UNDER
THEME #15: "Magnetic Fields"
111

EXT. WEST SIDE - ESTABLISHING SHOT

AERIAL SHOT OF west side farms.
NARRATOR (v.o.)
More than a million acres of dry, alkali land
have been made fertile in the western San
Joaquin Valley this century.
Yet, the government was told in 1928, 1941,
and 1956 not to till the land because it was
seleniferous. There are already twenty years
of studies concerning inappropriate
agricultural irrigation on the west side.
Yet it continues.
112

EXT. WEST SIDE - MEDIUM SHOT

GROUND LEVEL shots of west side irrigation.
Most of the land on the west side is owned by
factory farms. Growing surplus crops on
marginal land, they are over-irrigating and
flushing selenium out of the earth. As the
irrigation water moves between fields, it
picks up still more
pollutants. Insecticides, herbicides, and
pesticides.
113

EXT. CANAL - WIDE SHOT

Shots of Tranquility Canal.
Under pressure, the valley farmers built a
drain to take the runoff away. The
Tranquility Canal is an 85-mile long
open sewer ditch. It carries a deadly
witches' brew that, in addition to being
toxic, could also be a hatchery for
"Andromeda Strains" of biological agents
capable of creating future nightmares.
114

EXT. CANAL - MEDIUM CLOSE UP
Unfortunately, the canal was never finished.
The end of this sewer line became the

271

Tyranny of the Downbeat
Masterson Wildlife Refuge. It was supposed
to be temporary. It wasn't.
115

EXT. REFUGE - ESTABLISHING SHOT

AERIAL SHOTS of Masterson.
Marshes and wetlands are essential recharge
areas for groundwater supplies. They are
also stopping-off points for
migrating wildlife.
116

EXT. REFUGE - MEDIUM SHOT

GROUND LEVEL shots of Masterson.
That's why the poisoned pond at Masterson,
which is not only a wetland but a wildlife
refuge, is really a dual
problem. It's not only killing the wildlife
that stop there, but it's polluting the
groundwater below it as well.
117

EXT. REFUGE - MEDIUM SHOT

HAND-HELD shots of Masterson.
Wetlands like Masterson are being used as
collection areas for agricultural runoff.
Runoff carrying contaminants like selenium
and boron. Thus, contamination of these
surface waters directly affects the quality
of local groundwater and the health of the
wildlife living there.
118

EXT. REFUGE - WIDE SHOT
Right now, at this moment in time, there
appears to be no simple, quick-fix solution
to the problems of salinity and
runoff. Or the threat posed by selenium and
other toxic contamination. It's a doublebarreled shotgun pointing right in
the face of our future.

119

EXT. REFUGE - ESTABLISHING SHOT

FELIX DAVENPORT walks along the edge of Masterson.
FELIX DAVENPORT
Masterson was our canary in the cave.

272

Tyranny of the Downbeat

273

DAVENPORT stops walking. CAMERA begins a slow ZOOM in on this
face of reason, of credibility.
Now, the canary's dead. The question is, are
we going to do something about it, or keep on
with business as usual?"
CAMERA ZOOMS in closer still, drawing us into the truth in this man's
eyes.
It's a symbol of all that's gone wrong in
thirty years of aggressive exploitation of
water in California. Agriculture in the San
Joaquin Valley is at a turning point. And it
may never recover. We may never recover.
CAMERA holds on an ECU of his eyes.

They do not blink.

Was there a cover up? Yes, I believe there
was. People aren't saying anything, inside
or outside the FWS, because they're subject
to political pressure from farmers and their
politicians. Besides, as one of my
colleagues once observed: 'Ducks don't
vote.'
MUSIC:
120

UP FULL THEN OUT
WIDE SHOT

As DAVENPORT exits, CAMERA frames a duck settling down on the pond.
MUSIC:

UP FULL THEN OUT

BREAK POINT IN DOCUMENTARY
The shot is done, the emotion captured.

The appeal made.

Elliot and Davenport talk a little while longer before they leave.
In passing, Elliot mentions that the some of the same
people responsible for poisoning Masterson had also polluted the
well on his family's ranch.

"They will pay," he says.

MUSIC CHANGE: UP FULL THEN UNDER
THEME #16: "Salt of the Earth"

Tyranny of the Downbeat

274

DISSOLVE:
121

EXT. FIELD STATION - ESTABLISHING SHOT

GROUND LEVEL SHOT of UC Extension Service Salinization Project at the
Westlands Field Station near Fresno. Walking into frame and along
the dusted white hedgerows is PROFESSOR ANDRE LAUCHLI, head of the
Salinity/Drainage Task Force, Department of Land, Air and Water
Resources, University of California, Davis. He kicks at the saltencrusted earth.
PROFESSOR LAUCHLI
Salinity. Many experts consider it to be the
most neglected, long-term problem facing
California. Already, there are thousands of
acres near the southern end of the San
Joaquin Valley that look as if they had been
dusted with snow. Nothing
grows in this snow. Not even weeds.
122

MONTAGE

Shots of causes of salinization and desertification.
PROFESSOR LAUCHLI (v.o.)
'Salinization' is mostly the result of poor
drainage. And it's threatening this Valley.
The San Joaquin is suffering
from all the forces that work to produce
'desertification'. Poor drainage of
irrigated land, overgrazing, cultivation of
highly erodable soils, overdraft of
groundwater, and off-road vehicle damage.
123

EXT. FIELD - MEDIUM SHOT

Shot of salted field.

CAMERA slowly PANS LEFT.

'Desertification' is a broad, loosely-defined
term. It encompasses a variety of ecological
changes that make lands
useless for agriculture or humans.
124

EXT. DESERT - MEDIUM SHOT
Deserts rarely spread along well-defined
frontiers. They spring up in patches where
abuse destroys the thin cover of
vegetation and fertile soil, leaving only
sand or inert earth.

125

EXT. FIELD - WIDE SHOT

Tyranny of the Downbeat

275

Irrigation of water-intensive crops like cotton or rice.
The source of the problem is agriculture's
high consumption of water. Their waste of
water. The relative
cheapness and abundance of water, even in
regions that otherwise would be deserts, has
led to agricultural practices that would
normally never be allowed. But these farmers
are supported, even encouraged, by
politicians and federal subsidies.
126

EXT. FIELD - MEDIUM SHOT

GROUND LEVEL SHOT of forage crops like alfalfa.
Forage crops are being cultivated in
California because the economics of Western
water encourage the wanton use
of this precious substance. Because the
economics of the federal pork barrel favor,
even demand, the continuous construction of
dams and ditches to catch every possible drop
of fresh water before it finds its way to the
sea.
127

EXT. AQUEDUCT - ESTABLISHING SHOT

AERIAL SHOT of California Aqueduct at the Edmonston Pumps.
Then to transport that water to
southern portions of the state,
be used to create cropland
or enable Los Angelenos to wash
top off their hot tubs, or fill
swimming pools.
128

the drier,
where it will
their cars,
their

EXT. FIELDS - ESTABLISHING SHOT

LOW ANGLE TRACKING SHOT as MARC REISNER enters frame and walks along
hedgerows dusted with salt.
MARC REISNER
We really know surprisingly little about
vanished civilizations whose majesty, and
ultimate demise, were closely linked to the
liberties they took with water. The same
could be said about any number of desert
civilizations throughout history.
Assyria, Carthage, Mesopotamia; the Inca, the
Aztec, the Hohokam. Before they collapsed.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

276

And it may not have been drought that caused
their fall.
129

MEDIUM CLOSE UP

CAMERA frames shot of ground as he stoops down into frame and picks
up a handful of salted earth.
It may have been salt.
He holds his hand up and lets the salted dirt cascade down, like
sands in an hourglass.
This is how it will end. Not with a bang,
but a whimper. This is our fate if we don't
do something. And do it soon.
MUSIC:

UP FULL THEN OUT

BREAK POINT IN DOCUMENTARY

Tyranny of the Downbeat

277
CHAPTER 18

Many adults feel adolescence is a mistake to be corrected or a
sorrow to be alleviated rather than a wonderfully direct
apprehension of the truth too soon poisoned.
-- Norman Kiell
I met my old lover
On the street last night
She seemed so glad to see me
I just smiled
And we talked about some old times
And we drank ourselves some beers
Still crazy after all these years
Still crazy after all these years
I'm not the kind of man
Who tends to socialize
I seem to lean on
Old familiar ways ...
Now I sit by my window
And I watch the cars
I fear I'll do some damage
One fine day
But I would not be convicted
By a jury of my peers
Still crazy
Still crazy
Still crazy after all these years
-- Paul Simon, "Still Crazy After All These Years"
Jorge and I were reeling from the beers and the years we'd
covered.

The softball game was over.

It was just us and our

cooler sitting on the steep side of the hill, waiting for the
timer to turn out the park lights.
"You know what I think are the major burdens of our
generation?"

The drink made me Irish eloquent and profound.

"Too much money and not enough time.

No, it's maybe too

rich and too thin?"
"Butt-face.

You're never fucking serious about anything."

Tyranny of the Downbeat

278

"And you're too seriously fucked."
"Listen.

I'm on a roll.

of expectations.

The absoluteness of loneliness.

inevitability of change'.
these times.

It's three things.

And the

For me, those phrases define life in

Think about it."

"How can I not, shithead?
"Cute.

'The unreality

You're shoving it up my ass."

Anyway, we were brought up to expect that good

things would come our way.
Then there's loneliness.

Our parents set us up for disappointment.
Again, most of us grew

up in the traditional nuclear family."
"An endangered species."
"Fine.

So we weren't prepared for the fact that the freedom

we had and the expectations, together, meant we were going to
spend a lot of time alone."
"Because we expected too much of ourselves, this world, and
other people?"
"Right.

We had the freedom to choose.

making the commitment.

To move on without

And we ended up alone.

We're both alone right now.

Look at us.

There's nobody in our life.

And

neither one of us is in the active pursuit mode."
"Too much trouble."
"There's a front end to expectation that's created its own
problems."
"Yes?"
"Think Carly Simon."
"Songs again.

Which one?"

"'Anticipation'."

Tyranny of the Downbeat

279

"So, let's finish this.

What about the last one?

The

inevitability of change?"
"That's the key one.
prepared for.

And the one we were probably least

We never grew up.

A lot of our generation stayed

in high school mentally and emotionally.

We resisted change.

We

wanted life to be as safe and secure as it was in high school.
But it wasn't."
"And probably more so during that era than any time before
or since.

A lot of change went down while we grew up."

"And it changed the world."
I stared across the park toward the parking lot lights at
the winery.

I am obviously not alone in the way I feel.

seems to be the curse of everyone my age.
self-indulgent.

It

Our generation is so

We've gazed so long at our collective navels

that we feel everyone else wants to know what we've found.

Our

baby boom bubble is moving through that phase of life when we
control everything.

So we hold the mirror up to each other and

write or talk about ourselves and all the joys and sorrows that
we seem to have suddenly discovered for the first time.
Multi-media masturbation.

Baby boomers beating off.

It seems like every newspaper or magazine article, every TV
program or movie we watch, talks about our generational malaise.
We feel disconnected, our lives impersonal.
for acquisition, not compassion.

We have time only

It's disconcerting when you see

your personal problems broadcast on "LA Law" or "thirtysomething".
It's really only a mental circle jerk.

Do we

really have anything to say, or are we just jerking off?

Are

Tyranny of the Downbeat

280

there really no new ideas.
to cut a new path.

The Sixties are history and it's time

Yet, here I am, perpetuating what I'm

thinking about.
"Have you noticed how much stuff there's out now about
Vietnam?"
"Time to exorcise the demon, I guess.
"Probably true.
programs are our age.

I bet most of the people doing these
Vietnam-era."

"Trying to deal with what happened.
public.

Shed the guilt."

Cleansing the body

Our generation's way of saying we're sorry to those who

fought and died."
"Yea, but most everything that's out is about the war.
About the guys who fought.

What it was like over there."

"Or after they got back."
"I mean, very little of it talks about the people who chose
not to fight.

The home front.

The ones who stayed here to fight

the blind ignorance."
"'Gardens of Stone' covered some of that territory."
"But it was still from a military angle.
conscientious objectors.

I'm talking about

I'm talking about the students.

I'm

talking about the people who didn't believe in the war, who
didn't want to serve.

Who didn't burn their draft cards, didn't

flee to Canada, didn't demonstrate, didn't trash buildings."
"You mean the people like you and me."
"Yea.

The main-streamers.

stayed in school.

And there were a lot of us.

We tried to educate people.

parents and our friends.

We wrote letters.

Especially our

We tried to get

We

Tyranny of the Downbeat

281

people to understand that even though we didn't agree with the
war, we still believed in our country and the democratic system.
Still believed in the process."
"'The Children's Crusade' of Clean Gene McCarthy."
"That's right.
and last time for me.

We both worked for his campaign.

The first

But what bothered me was that people

didn't see the difference.

Whether we were in the parks of

Chicago or in the streets of San Francisco protesting the war,
people saw us no differently than the Weathermen, the SDS, or the
Panthers.

They lumped us all together as radicals and

terrorists determined to bring the establishment down.
certainly didn't see us as patriots.
to change the status quo.
down with it.

Sure, I definitely wanted

But I didn't want to tear everything else

The fact is, I was just as patriotic as the

guys who went there and died.
as they did.

They

I just got lucky.

didn't want them to die.

I believed in this country as much
I didn't have to go.

But I

I wasn't one of those assholes that

yelled at them when they came home, that called them
'baby-killers'.

They were just in the wrong place at the wrong

time and they had to go.

And by the time they got off that

plane, they probably believed in the war about as much as I did."
"Until people started calling them murderers."
"So when are they going to tell our story?

We put our time

in, too."
"I guess nobody feels like they have to apologize to us."
Memory is a fickle friend.
not.

It's there for you and yet it's

My memory tends to flatten all events and memories to the

Tyranny of the Downbeat

same plane.

282

Things that happened long ago appear to have

occurred simultaneously with events much later in time.

I pride

myself on my memory, on my ability to recall minutiae.

But there

is no depth to it, no perspective.
"You really think memories and trophies last longer than
friendship and love?"
"Well, considering that's all I have right now, I would say
yes."
"That's pretty cold."
"And pretty true.

How many athletic trophies do you have in

storage?"
"More than I've got dust to cover them."
"And what about the memories?

Do you have enough to keep

you warm at night or to keep you company when you're old?"
"Sure."
"How many lovers or wives or girlfriends or close friends do
you have?"
"Not as many."
"And which are more fun?

Or, should I say, less of a pain

in the ass?"
"It's pretty obvious."
"You see, I'm trying to be realistic not self-pitying, but
the memories are really all I've got right now."
"You wouldn't trade them in for a nice soft, heavy-breathing
woman to keep you warm?"
"Sure, until it got to be a problem.
back where I am now, talking to you."

And then I'd be right

Tyranny of the Downbeat

283

We seem to have suffered through a prolonged adolescence.
By choice or circumstance, I don't know.

The demographic bubble was

approaching middle age and we were letting everybody know
about it.

Memory is incomplete experience.
-- J. Krishnamurti
Photographs and memories,
Christmas cards you sent to me.
All that I have are these,
To remember you.
Memories that run and hide,
Take me to another time.
Back to a happier day,
When I called you mine.
But we sure had a good time,
When we started way back when.
Morning walks and bedroom talks,
Oh, how I loved you then.
Summer skies and lullabies,
Nights we couldn't say goodbye.
And of all of the things that we knew,
Not a dream survived.
Photographs and memories,
All the love that you gave to me.
Somehow it just can't be true,
That's all I've left of you.
-- Jim Croce, "Photographs and Memories"
"Is There Life After High School?"
critical question for our generation.
survived it.

The name of a book and a
I think there is, but I

I learned to look at it from the right perspective,

with just enough humor, and not enough serious grimness.
I find myself still dealing with people I grew up with in
much the same way I dealt with them in high school.

In my mind,

Tyranny of the Downbeat

284

they're still jocks, cheerleaders, class presidents, nerds,
dopers, hoods, or "hard women".

I still find myself tongue-tied

when confronted with one of the cheerleaders I never really knew,
but lusted after for all those years.

Or scared shitless when I

run into one of my coaches or gym teachers.
Did I succeed?

Could I be part of their clique now because I

certainly wasn't then?
expectations?

Do I measure up?

Do we ever escape these adolescent

Of others?

Of ourselves?

all that's been written about reunions.

I think not.

Just look at

About the trauma and

fear paralyzing people contemplating attending their own.
Most of the kids in high school shied away from our group.
Not because we were so cool and unapproachable.
might batter them with our fists.
different way.

Or because we

We were dangerous in a

We lashed them with our tongues, with our humor.

They couldn't stand our ridicule, our sarcasm.

The fact is, most

of us were fairly bright, not unattractive, and even popular at
times.

But we were the first to enter THAT era of rebellion.

When it was cool to not care; to distance ourselves from the
traditional rites of passage and lampoon those who took any of it
too seriously.
We were the first, other than the rockers and the kids from
"Highway Village," to experiment with drugs.
especially dangerous and attractive.

That made us

We laughed at the jocks,

particularly the coaches, although most of us were decent
athletes.

A few even lettered.

Not as a symbol of

accomplishment, but as yet another way to attack the system.

I

think deep down, our style was just another disguise, another way

Tyranny of the Downbeat

285

for us "outies" to attack the "innies."

If they wouldn't accept

us, we'd ridicule what they considered important and humiliate
them in the process.
I think many of us still see ourselves the way we saw
ourselves in high school.

A lot of us stopped there, though.

Especially the ones that didn't leave.

It's amazing how some of

the more popular ones, the ones voted most likely to succeed,
when they couldn't cope with the disappointment of real life,
became alcoholics, heads, or born-again Christians.
kept trading one crutch for another.
And I probably shouldn't either.
well-adjusted?
answers?

No.

Am I any more successful or
Do I have the

But I do have a power they don't.

shape things the way I see them.

real because it's on tape.

That's what I do with the "Mud

And those who participate in

the experience make it legitimate.

see ourselves.

I define it and it becomes

It's been recorded for posterity.

It's been formalized, canonized.

It's vicarious.

The power to

I can create my own reality and

Bowl" videotape I produce each year.

exorcism.

They wouldn't call it that.

Do I have any fewer vices?

then present it as the truth.

They just

It's a wonderful device for

It presents us as we would like to

It can be painful, especially seeing the before

and after shots, then and now.

But it sure feels good.

The videotape I made for our reunion was my perception of those
years.

You could accept it or not.

change it.

It was my statement.

Outraged others.
reaction.

But you couldn't

I'm sure it embarrassed some.

But it touched everyone.

Everyone had a

Tyranny of the Downbeat

286

It's been said that most of our tastes were set during high
school.

The music, movies, dances, and drugs of preference were

shaped then.
insecurities.

Even our sexual preferences and problems; all our
I think that's why some of our friends, including

me, still prefer the oldies.
times than we are now.
of the Mud Bowl.

We were probably happier in those

Certainly that's part of the attraction

To be seventeen and carefree again.

Worried

more about copping a feel than getting a raise.
Many wives and girlfriends, former wives and girlfriends,
and parents may disagree, but I think the bowl is healthy.
cheaper than analysis and probably just as effective.

It's

Most

psychotherapists say that re-living our teenage years helps us to
become better adults.
Thanksgiving.

And that's exactly what we do each

Over a two to four day period, depending on how

much we need it and decide to indulge it, each of the "Bowlers"
consciously become what we were in high school, or act out what
we would have liked to be.

We're often accused, by the

aforementioned significant others, of being juvenile and
immature.
it.

Instead of recoiling from the accusation, we revel in

It is shameless adolescent indulgence.

But it helps to keep

us sane the rest of the year.
We all know there's a high schooler just under the surface.
But we're supposed to be sober professionals.

We can't afford to

be compromised by that pimply-faced grinning visage of
immaturity.
wild.

So, one weekend each year, we let him loose to run

To wreak havoc on relationships new and old.

And, through

the years, we've learned to look objectively at him without

Tyranny of the Downbeat

287

shrinking in embarrassment.

After all, we've been regressing for

over twenty-five years now.
Maybe the Bowl is a convenient way for many of us to remain
teenagers most of the year.

Since most of us seem to like

who we were then, we don't mind spending more time with that
person.

Of course we only do it when we're with another Bowler,

because only they can appreciate it and not hassle us about it.
Some of us handle this return to adolescence better than others.
Some, I think, are afraid of what might emerge from this
"Pandora's Yearbook" of regression.

They might fear the reality

of what they really were and have become.
an intense time.

The gathering can be

Like any reunion, any re-evaluation, emotions

and expectations run high.
For years we've been told by people what a great idea the
Bowl is.

How unique it is.

And these same people lament the

fact that they hadn't, and now couldn't, do the same thing.
Because they weren't from a close-knit community.
they were too mature.

Or because

The latter ones we had to worry about.

They were the ones that would someday end up on top of a building
in Texas shooting innocent bystanders.
would never be accused of.

One thing the Mud Bowlers

We weren't tight-asses.

There is a saying of Goethe's.

Beware of what you wish for

in youth because you will get it in middle life.

And so many of

us have spent our entire lives trying to achieve that.
Reeling from the beers and the years we covered, I still
decide to have another beer before going to bed.
flip on a music television station.

I get one and

It's "Sweet Baby" James

Tyranny of the Downbeat

288

Taylor, a cadaverous Henry Fonda.
no vitality in that song.
reflection?
in time.

There's no life in that smile,

Is it another arm-chair casual

Why am I sorry for him, for me, for us, for a moment

The boom is bust.

We're dancing in our wheelchairs.

Old friends,
Old friends
Sat on their park bench
Like bookends.
A newspaper blown through the grass
Falls on the round shoes
On the high shoes
Of the old friends.
Old friends,
Winter companions,
The old men
Lost in their overcoats,
Waiting for the sunset.
The sounds of the city,
Sifting through trees,
Settle like dust
On the shoulders
Of the old friends.
Can you imagine us
Years from today,
Sharing a park bench quietly?
How terribly strange
To be seventy.
Old friends,
Memory brushes the same years.
Silently sharing the same fear. ...
-- Paul Simon, "Old Friends"
Time it was,
And what a time it was,
It was ...
A time of innocence,
A time of confidences.
Long ago ... it must be....
I have a photograph.
Preserve your memories;
They're all that's left me.
-- Paul Simon, "Bookends Theme"

Tyranny of the Downbeat

289

It was time to test-drive his latest design.
headed for the back door.

He cut in and

Had you seen him then, you would have

thought him dead, or frozen in cryogenic journey.
the system; the soul of the machine.

He was part of

The jock was running the

silicon strip, shooting straight for enemy territory.
Destination:

D.C. and the secured d data vault of the Valley

Education Fund; Borba's own PAC.
bitch.

This run was going to be a

He hoped he wouldn't fry his brains getting in and

wouldn't get his butt busted heading back out the door.
He was riding a hot-rodded piece of parasitic software.
was pretty nasty.

It could the usual stuff.

Destroy disc files,

interfere with memory, reproduce itself ceaselessly.
generally be a pain in the ass.

It

Just

But he'd modded this shit so it

could slice through any security system and do a little spying.
Very selective spying.

From the inside.

On all the

interconnects linked up to the PAC, including, he hoped, The
League, OxyGene, DiGiulio, and most of the other corporate
combines.

He had a feeling they were all wired.

was everybody's safety net.
They were all linked.

Because that

They all knew it.
The pathways were there.

He just had

to fly them.

It would take a little time, but he'd find the

combination.

Then it would be showtime.

The parasite would copy

itself onto the main system and all the subsystems; attaching itself
to ancillary devices and storage media.

Then the file protection

override would kick in, as well as the cloaking device.
place, he' drain them dry.

Once in

Accessing an autodial modem and a

Tyranny of the Downbeat

290

modified internal FAX machine, the parasite would start transmitting
files to a network of safe storage devices around the state.

The

Mole didn't want them coming down the lines after him, so all the
data went out into this
make-shift network, where it could be retrieved later.

Some of the

data would travel down phone lines, some over satellite, fiber optic,
and microwave links.
Everything was in place already, courtesy of innocuous and
innocent user's groups, bulletin boards, and professional
organizations.

You just had to know where it was and how to get to

it.
Next thing he knew, he was downtown; knocking at heaven's door.
The holographic projection above Icarus displayed a 3D grid of the
entire building, complete with communication, security, power, and
computer systems.

It was like playing three-level chess with Spock.

Now he just had to run it undetected.
easing in and along.
highschooler.
there.
inside.

He took it slow at first,

Didn't want to push too hard, like some horny

Gently, he slid deeper and down farther.

He hovered at the brink.

She opened like a flower and he was

He shuddered with relief.

Pretty sloppy security, he thought.

Pretty careless.

it under a file entitled, "Special Projects Fund."
historical homage; Nixonian humor.
alone.
fund.

He found

A little

They just couldn't let the man

It was a record of all the cash disbursements made by the
Probably the only copy around.

were smart.
bonus:

Then he was

Shredded the hard copy if they

In an adjoining file, he stumbled on a little unexpected

transcripts of conversations between Borba and a host of

Tyranny of the Downbeat

other players.

291

The Mole's fingers were burning the stuff was so hot.

He hit the transmit command.

Satisfied the code was flowing, he

punched the eject button and headed for the surface.

ALTA CALIFORNIA
----------------------------------------------------------------COASTAL BATTLE
The coming conflict between the two coasts.
By Stephan Harrington
OF THE RECORD STAFF
The next decade is going to see the beginnings of a major battle
between the two coasts. Not the snobbery of the east coast literati
and cultural dowagers versus the crude and brash upstart westerners.
It'll be over what we've got and they want. Over water. We want
more and they want better.
The infrastructure they built to carry water to their homes and
businesses is rotting away. And when they're not losing the water
through the cracks, the ancient pipes are polluting it with lead.
Or, the wastes of hundreds of years of industry, dumped into the
ground or pumped into the sky, are poisoning what good water they've
got left in rivers and lakes and underground.
So, where are they looking to get more? Out west. And who are
they looking to to help them get it? The same people who corralled
the water and gave it to the westerners. The federal government.
The Bureau of Reclamation. The Army Corps. They've given the west
cheap subsidized water for years, so why can't they do the same for
the east? It's only a matter of time before they begin reversing the
flow.
There's a smaller battle being waged within this larger war. A
civil war between the north and the south. Not between states, not
interstate, but intrastate. And the numbers tell it all. 72 percent
of the state's runoff water is north of Sacramento. 77 percent of
the demands for water are south of it. There are twenty-four
California congressmen representing California south of the Tehachapi
Mountains. There are nineteen representing everything else. You
tell me who has a better chance of taking home the water?

Tyranny of the Downbeat

292
CHAPTER 19

I am a lie that always tells the truth.
-- Jean Cocteau
White Fang was a Siberian Husky.

Named after one of Soupy

Sales' co-stars, he had been a wedding present.
of the family.

Now he was part

Since they couldn't have children, they had been

satisfied just raising Fang.

Whenever Maryanne went to the store

or drove into town, Fang would always sit next to her, riding
shotgun.
Fang looked a little unhappy as they drove away, headed for
a concert in the city that night.
without him navigating.

He knew they'd get lost

How could they leave him behind?

Disappointed, he trotted around the back of the house, looking
for a stray cat or jackrabbit to chase.
No amusement.

Nothing.

No diversions.

Just an empty brown bag with a few white granules

in it, billowing open and shut in the early evening breeze.
Curious, he nosed it open, snorting.
They returned around midnight, exhausted from a little too
much wine and an unusual amount of culture.

They were too tired

to realize that their usual welcoming committee was not there
barking his greeting.

When they finally did, they got out of the

car and started calling for him.
Nothing.

No answer.

They looked at each other.

No movement.

They pulled into the garage

and got out.
"Guess he chased a rabbit over to Arnold's place.

There's

probably a message on the machine that he's there and spending
the night."

Tyranny of the Downbeat

"Sure.

293

It's not like he hasn't done it before."

"Right.

I'll take a quick look around back before I come

in."
"I'll start some tea."
"Make mine a brandy."
Elliot shut the garage and went out the door into the side
yard and around the corner of the house.

He saw Fang lying

there, quietly, next to his water bowl.

His nose was in the

water, his tongue hanging out, over the side.
open.

His eyes were

Elliot stopped.
"Hey boy!

Hey Fang!"

"Maryanne!"
to the dog.

Nothing.

The back porch light came on.

Maryanne came up behind him.

He had been for a while.

"He was poisoned.
nervous system.

He was stiff.

Elliot ran over

White Fang was dead.
Maryanne started crying.

Died of convulsions.

Overloaded the

Someone mixed the granules you found in that bag

with his dog food.

He ate it.

Got a very high fever.

drink water to quench his thirst and stop the heat.
worse.

Tried to

That made it

The death would have been very painful."

"What was it?"
"Temik.

Generic name Aldicarb.

He looked at the bag.
nematocide.

"

...

Made by,

OxyGene.

..."

I think it's a

Used by grape farmers to kill worms.

if it's eaten or inhaled."
"Someone killed our dog with a pesticide."
"I'm afraid so."

Pretty deadly

Tyranny of the Downbeat

294

"I didn't know they were that lethal."
"In the right dose, anything is lethal."

I had been experiencing mild nausea, a slight dizziness, and
some balance problems for a few months.

I attributed it to too

much caffeine, alcohol, and stress; to a ragged lifestyle.
let it ride.

So I

When it got worse, I went to the doctor and then

the specialists.

A physical, blood tests, ear, nose, and throat,

and opthamology all drew fluids or poked instruments into me.
Nothing showed up.

Nothing "leapt out at them," as they put it,

so they sent me to a neurologist.
During his exam, Doctor Albert Horshak asked me what I did,
all the while thumping reflexive parts of my anatomy with a hard
rubber hammer.
"I'm a writer and a television producer so I spend a lot of
time using my eyes, looking at televisions, staring at CRTs, or
doing research."
"Does the balance get worse?"
"Sometimes.

And sometimes when my sinuses flare up.

It's

funny because the symptoms are a lot like a project I'm working
on.

Nausea, dizziness, pinpoint pupils."
"What's the project about?"
"The central valley of California and the 'politics of

water'.

And pollution."

He stopped thumping.

I thought, Christ, I've tipped it now.

This guy could be friends with any number of people.
shouldn't know.

People who

Tyranny of the Downbeat

295

"What kind of pollution?"
I figured I'd gone too far not to finish now.
"Interesting."

He started thumping again.

"Pesticides."

"I have a bit of

an interest in that."
"What?"
"Pesticides.

And the neurological damage they cause.

In

fact, I've often been called as an expert witness in cases
involving pesticide contamination."
I had to ask because I had to know.

"By whom and against

whom?"
"Environmental Defense Fund and Pesticide Action Network.
Against OxyGene and some rather large farmers."
smiled as I exhaled a sigh of relief.

He looked up and

"Does that make me okay?"

We had our medical expert.

A story should have a beginning, a middle, and an end ... but
not necessarily in that order.
-- Jean Luc Godard
He had one last run to make.
his lips in nervous anticipation.
they had accumulated there.

Down Thunder Road.

He licked

They were proud of the toys

They had always been innovators; had

always stretched the limits of the possible in their own
business.

So it wouldn't be too surprising to expect some pretty

hot code at the end of this road.
He kicked in and fast-forwarded down the line.

The security

code started detonating as he neared the target, like land mines
or anti-aircraft.

Nothing serious or damaging, just a warning to

Tyranny of the Downbeat

the faint of heart.

296

Fuck your envelope, Chuck, he silently

shrieked as he throttled up and screamed toward oblivion.
When he flattened out, he didn't think he had made it there.
He started scanning.

He was a little disappointed.

They made

some good wine, but this code tasted like Red Mountain.
easy pickins.

He got to it all, including DiGiulio's

confidential personal files.

Then something started picking at

his neck, scratching at his attention.
watchdog.

It was

It was some kind of

It smelled new and dangerous.

knew that the smell was Icarus burning.

Then he instinctively
Time to bail.

He

somersaulted.
The Mole felt like Von Richtoven.
remains of the "Flying Circus."

Icarus resembled the

Both pilot and ship had survived

the binary dogfight, but they had returned battered and bruised.
The Mole hadn't slept in over a week; Icarus hadn't been powered
down for almost as long.

He was wired the entire ride,

mainstreaming data lines.

Now it was come-down time.

The

back-side of the flight was about to begin; the real drudgery.
Collating.

Synthesizing.

Analyzing.

Reviewing all the

confidential corporate files, public and private legal records,
scientific data bases, doctor's reports, FBI Form 302s,
top-secret government files, and confidential congressional
hearings.
He finished at five the next morning, showered, downed a Tab
and took one for the road, then drove across the Golden Gate.
Elliot had called in Western, Walsh, and Devereaux.
quietly in one of the edit suites.

They all sat

It was cool and dark, just

Tyranny of the Downbeat

the way The Mole liked it.

297

A little too cool for Elliot.

The

laptop, already lashed to the mainframe, sat between them, the
scan lines moving up and up, slowly, inexorably.

Each of them

quickly scanned their own hard copy, turning pages in nervous
anticipation, as he called up the first file and began walking
Elliot through the maze.
It was a labyrinth of conspiracy and cover-up.

Corporate

farmers had illegally irrigated thousands of acres with
super-subsidized water supplied by the larger water contractors.
They had invented complicated lease-out, lease back arrangements
to control excess land through dummy corporations.

Aided by the

agrichemical conglomerates, they had illegally, or at least
incorrectly, used chemical insecticides and herbicides.

They had

pumped out of existence, or contaminated, vast amounts of the
state's ground water supply.

There were records of migrant

worker abuse, purposely inadequate housing and medical care,
collusion to keep wages low and deport any dissidents.

There

were records of bribes, or at least "contributions", to keep the
Tranquility Canal open and to keep certain pesticides on the
market and the acceptable residues on food and in water at a
level acceptable to the growers.
It wasn't clear yet how much the BuRec, the Army Corps, DWR,
or FWS knew and how much they had helped.

Reading the reports

and between the lines, it was obvious most of the people at each
agency were simply too afraid to not help, or at least look the
other way.

They didn't want to tangle with the giant farming

corporations and the politicians they helped elect.

One thing

Tyranny of the Downbeat

was clear.

298

They had done little or nothing to stop it.

And it

looked like some had even gone so far as to conspire to cover it
up.
The tangled web included chemical companies, agribusiness,
politicians, private citizens, city, county, state, and federal
officials.

They had all been responsible for the contamination.

They had all been part of the cover up.

They had conspired to

keep the public in the dark, and to keep officials and law
enforcement quiet.

All for their own benefit.

their own pockets.

To secure their own positions.

the way, they may have even killed some people.

To put money in
And, along

And they had

denied Elliot the family he wanted.
During his raid on The League's files, The Mole discovered,
like Walsh had before him, a number of violations of the
excess-lands provision and several violations of the Clean Water
Act and Proposition 65.

The transgressors included DiGiulio and

The Combine, as well as numerous members of The League.

Most of

the big west side farmers had been granted exemptions from the
solicitor's office of the Interior Department.

That meant no

acreage limit on the amount of subsidized water they were
getting.

There was evidence that those exemptions were the

result of political pay-offs.
thousands of dollars.

Pay-offs in the hundreds of

Some of the growers had contributed up to

$100,000 to the Valley Education Fund.

And Borba had used that

money to buy them exemptions.
While browsing a data base from the Toxicology Information
Center at Purdue, he had run across a reference to OxyGene's

Tyranny of the Downbeat

Waterston plant.
already seen.

299

Sterility caused by DBCP.

Nothing he hadn't

But it triggered another connection.

He

remembered something about DiGiulio; something in an FBI file
he'd cracked.

A confidential file about an investigation into

the dumping of contaminated grapeskins and possible ground water
contamination.

There was a Mafia connection and charges of

illegal dumping.

That triggered another reference.

In March of

the previous year, the state water board had fined DiGiulio for
not meeting the deadline for cleaning up some contaminated ground
water.

The fine came as part of a civil liability complaint.

The complaint alleged "negligent or intentional" violations of a
cleanup order.

The water board had given the winery thirty days

to find out how far ground water contamination had spread, and
six months to devise a cleanup plan.
Simply forgotten.

The order was ignored.

By both parties.

Walsh knew something of that and another pair of files on
DiGiulio.

The first was innocuous enough.

but only locally and not for long.
serious.

It was in the papers,

The second was far more

No one knew about it because it was still under

investigation.

The bureau file was still open.

The FBI's Form 302 was the interview report filed by agents
immediately after talking with a witness.
them wasn't always reliable.
a data dump.

The information in

It was simply a storage device for

Anything that was said was recorded.

When he left the Bureau, Pat had taken copies of all the
302s, and as much of the case files, as he needed and could
manage.

He wasn't about to waste all the time and energy he had

Tyranny of the Downbeat

spent.
day.

300

He figured he could probably use the information some
It was a federal offense--copying and removing documents.

He, and everyone in the room, could be jailed, especially now,
following The Mole's joyride.
The first incident had to do with a bunch of contaminated
bricks.

The bricks had lined a kiln the winery used to fire the

glass for their bottles.

When they built the new plant, they had

to get rid of the bricks, so they figured they'd make a little
extra money by selling them.

What they couldn't sell, they

dumped into the local landfill.
contaminated.

Turns out the bricks were

If company officials knew it, they didn't let on.

So here are all these people, building fireplaces and patios with
"dirty" bricks.

Not to mention the landfill, where a bunch of

other people worked, and more people came in each day to dump
their own garbage.

Even though it wasn't that serious, it just

showed their attitude toward their own liability and concern for
the public's safety.
The second one had turned up during The Mole's cruise;
evidence that they had been dumping wine skins tainted with
pesticides and herbicides into open pits.

Without permits and

without notifying the proper authorities.
As they dug deeper into the data, following the information
trail, the picture of the valley began to resemble medieval rural
feudalism, complete with absentee landlords and serf labor.

Many

owners lived in Los Angeles, Houston, London, Tokyo, or Bahrein.
Most of them didn't give a damn about the land or the people
working it.

They were only interested in profit.

And some

Tyranny of the Downbeat

301

people suspected a few of these landlords wouldn't even mind
undermining the economy and depleting the resources on purpose,
in preparation for the last battle.
--Elliot

"Followed the money.

That's all The Mole did.

And he dug us up an agribusiness Trilateral Commission."
--Walsh
--Elliot

"Try what?"
"Trilateral Commission.

Like "The Star Chamber."

The world's most powerful businessmen and politicians.

All

working together to control world politics through economics."
--Western
--Elliot

"Sounding a little conspiratorial, aren't we?"
"We've got our own version right here.

Agribusiness uses the banks, the politicians, food processors,
the university extension system, cheap imported labor, and
subsidized water to generate wealth so they can control this
state and assure that the flow continues."
--Walsh

"It's a conspiracy.

We're talking about foreign

ownership, hidden partnerships, holding companies, interlocking
directorates, vertical integration."
--Devereaux

"Using our water, our universities, and our

elected officials to put Americans out of work and put money into
their Swiss bank accounts."
--Elliot

"You know what their philosophy is?

Use it, then

lose it."
--Walsh

"That's like castrating your stud bull, or letting

your prize heifer run dry."
--Elliot

"They don't care.

There's plenty more land

available around the world, even here in this state.

I think

Tyranny of the Downbeat

it's part of a master plan.

302

If they can't conquer us militarily,

they'll start destroying us from within.
economically.

With drugs.

Or

By buying and then developing, or destroying, the

best of our farm and ranch lands."
Elliot knew he had the ammunition he needed.

This

information, plus everything they'd gathered so far through
interviews and their own research, there was enough
circumstantial evidence to build a pretty convincing case.
gun was leveled.
fired.

Right at their heart.

Now it just had to be

But the information was still circumstantial.

had been pirated.

in court.

to

But it was inadmissable as evidence

And it was unprofessional; even unethical.

investigative journalists knew that.
evidence.

Some of it

He could use it in the documentary:

allege, to hint, to suggest.

The

The best

He needed the hard

Beyond a reasonable doubt.

He was encouraged, but a

little exasperated.
--Devereaux
on.

"I think it's pretty clear what's been going

What's been happening."
--Western
--Walsh

cover-up.

"There is a pattern.

It's money."

"But it's more than that.

It's conspiracy.

It's

And maybe murder."

--Devereaux

"And that's what we're going to prove.

It's

Borba and Delancy and DiGiulio and The League."
--Western
--Elliot

"And for them, it's over."
"Not until we get the smoking gun.

Look, we

can't afford to be charged with making baseless accusations.
refuse to have this branded as just another one of my naive

I

Tyranny of the Downbeat

303

crusades."
--Devereaux

"Naive or not.

Pirated or not.

a right to know what we've found.

The public has

That's guaranteed under the

First Amendment and common law practices.

Even if we don't point

any fingers, if all we do is say, 'Here it is, judge for
yourself,' we've got to do something about it.

Right now.

It's

a destiny we can't deny."
--Elliot

"Fine.

Agreed.

But I still say we need their

fingerprints on the gun so there's no doubt who fired it.
got to get those fingerprints.
--Devereaux

We've

Get me those fingerprints."

"The principle of it.

We're doing this for the

principle of it."
--Western

"You know, you can get away with anything for the

principle of it."
--Walsh

"Yes.

And in the right dose, anything is lethal.

Even water."
--Elliot

"Even principles."

Tyranny of the Downbeat

304
CHAPTER 20

... I saw the sun take
Its first step
Above the water tower at Sun
Maid Raisins
And things separate from the dark
And lean on their new shadows ...
-- Gary Soto
There were no songs
when scorpions did
their dance to a
whirlwind tune and
a desert promise.
No water wells then.
A dry-farming stake
was the way before
canal hopes grew
in the caterpillar dust.
-- Art Cuelho, "Those Cook Shack Days"
Marc Reisner, author of "Cadillac Desert," suggested we
meet near where the Delta-Mendota Canal crosses the Highway
580/132 cutoff when I called to get some background information
prior to shooting his segment for the program.

I asked Robin

Devereaux to join us.
We stood now on rolling hills near the Altamont Raceway; a
vantage that delivers views of both the Delta-Mendota, the
California Aqueduct, and the freeway.
the automobile.

Irrigated agriculture and

The two things, Reisner tells us, that have done

more than anything else to shape California.

He reminds us of a

forgotten fact.
--Reisner

"California is a desert.

It needs water.

An

entire culture, an entire value system, has been born and raised
on the desperate need for water.
it, also rule California.

Those who control it, who rule

That means power.

That means

Tyranny of the Downbeat

influence.

305

And that means money."

--Western
--Reisner

"Water is everything."
"It's a big issue.

you can't live without water.
you'll live.

Maybe the biggest.

Because

You can have a gas shortage and

A food shortage, you'll still survive.

But run out

of water and you're dead in a few days."
--Devereaux

"They say that in California, water flows

uphill toward money."
--Reisner

"And you can bet that when it comes to something

as important as water, the rules of accepted behavior are going
to go out the window.

Honesty and legality will be ground into

the dust."
--Devereaux

"You get the water, you get the money.

It's

that simple."
--Reisner

"Water delivers wealth.

And that wealth goes

back into the political machine that delivers the water.

The

farm lobby and agribusiness spend almost a million dollars a
month fighting water reform and the environmentalists."
--Western
his cohorts.

"They're the people who keep electing Borba and
And those are the guys we're fighting.

the front men.

They're

The guys trying to block us at every turn,

legally and otherwise."
--Reisner
politics.

"The issue is not a poisoned pond.

It's

The old-fashioned expedients of politics and

economics."
--Western
--Devereaux

"And this time, they're the same thing."
"Masterson is what you see.

Money is what you

Tyranny of the Downbeat

306

get."
--Western

"Let's talk a little about federal water

subsidies."
--Reisner

"The federal government began subsidizing water

projects in 1982.

On the grounds that growth in the West

depended on cheap water."
--Devereaux
--Reisner

"To make the desert bloom?"
"Since then, hundreds of thousands of acres of

marginal farmland in the arid West and Southwest have been
cultivated."
--Western

"Only because the water was cheap?"

--Reisner

"It was sold by the government to the farmers for

much less than its true cost."
--Devereaux

"With all the subsidies they had, it was

cheaper to use it and get more than to conserve it."
--Reisner

"It was also cheaper to irrigate the hell out of

drainage-poor land and let it run into swamps like Masterson than
it was to install drainage systems, or simply not cultivate the
land."
--Devereaux

"And the resulting water shortage each year

created pressure to find more cheap water."
--Western

"Political pressure to dam more rivers?

A roll

on the old pork barrel?"
--Reisner

"The ultimate.

unions like that.

The

So do engineering and construction companies

like Fluor and Bechtel.
machinery."

Water projects create jobs.

Water projects grease the political

Tyranny of the Downbeat

--Devereaux

307

"And because of all this growth and wealth, the

politicians get re-elected and keep the cycle going."
--Western

"So enormous amounts of taxpayers' money have

been spent for the benefit of a few?

On land of marginal value

and for crops that aren't essential?"
--Reisner

"The rice, cotton, barley, canning tomatoes,

pistachio nuts, almonds, and melons they produce aren't feeding
the world.

Much of what's being grown is in surplus supply.

there have been repercussions reaching beyond the state.

And

The

feds used taxpayer's money to provide illegal subsidies so rich
farmers could grow richer planting rice in California.

In the

process, they produced more for less."
--Devereaux

"And put the other rice growers living in Texas

or Louisiana out of business."
--Reisner
rice here.

"And what's ironic is they didn't even sell the

They shipped it to fill the rice bowls of Japan."

--Western

"You mentioned earlier that there was another way

to use water better, beyond conservation, reduced use, and
recycling.

What were you referring to?"

--Reisner

"Selling it.

Farmers could sell their

entitlements at market the same way they sell their produce."
--Western

"Who would buy it?"

--Reisner

"Cities, who would pay a premium for it.

Industry.

Even other farmers.

That would give these farmers

another market and another source of income."
--Devereaux

"Which couldn't hurt them at a time when more

and more farms are failing because of default."

Tyranny of the Downbeat

--Reisner

308

"And, if they were efficient, they'd still have

enough left over to irrigate their own crops."
--Western

"Couldn't they decrease their consumption still

more by planting different crops?"
--Reisner

"Definitely.

Instead of cotton, tomatoes, rice,

and alfalfa, which use a lot of water, they could switch to beans
and wheat or barley, which use a lot less."
--Western
not.

"Let me ask a question that's sort of related and

Do you own any water stocks?"
--Reisner

"No, I don't.

To be honest, I hadn't even

thought about it, but I imagine as water gets more scarce, owning
stock in companies that own, or control, the sources of water
would make sense.
--Western

I didn't even know there were water stocks."

"There are.

And once the quality and quantity of

water combines with more people and industry, the companies that
control the water are going to do quite well."
--Devereaux

"So everyone's happy."

--Western

"And no one loses."

--Reisner

"Except everyone living in California.

Because

they're running out of water."
--Devereaux
--Reisner

"Good water."
"Any kind of water.

still droughts ahead.

And, remember, there are

After all, this is a desert."

--Western

"Is there really enough water in California?"

--Reisner

"There's enough.

much incentive to use it wisely."

What there isn't enough of is

Tyranny of the Downbeat
DISSOLVE:
MUSIC CHANGE: UP FULL THEN UNDER
THEME #17: "Equinoxe"
130

EXT. FIELD - ESTABLISHING SHOT

Shot of MARC REISNER standing near irrigation shut-off valve in a
west side tomatoe field. He reaches down and turns on the valve.
Water begins rushing into the irrigation ditch.
MARC REISNER
Over the course of 50 years, a few thousand
farmers will receive a billion and half
dollars' worth of taxpayer generosity that
was never supposed to be theirs. They were
supposed to get the water cheap. Instead,
they're getting it for almost nothing. And
the biggest subsidies are going to the
members of the Westlands Water and Power
League.
131

EXT. IRRIGATED FIELDS - ESTABLISHING SHOT

AERIAL SHOT of irrigated fields in Westlands district.
The federal water subsidy to the farmers of
the Westlands amounts to almost $217 per acre
per year. The average annual revenue
produced by an acre of Westlands land is only
$290.
132

EXT. FIELD - MEDIUM SHOT

GROUND LEVEL SHOT of west side cotton fields owned by The
Marriposa Combine. CAMERA slowly PANS RIGHT TO LEFT.
This means that 70 percent of the profit on
what is supposed to be some of the richest
farmland in the world, comes solely through
taxpayer subsidization, not crop production.
Not only that, but the main west side crop is
cotton, which has become a surplus crop.
133

EXT. FIELD - WIDE SHOT

HIGH ANGLE SHOT of field worker tending ditches in Westlands
tomatoe field.

309

Tyranny of the Downbeat

310

Why the League should receive subsidized
water in the first place is a good question.
It's hardly worth mentioning
that their irrigation runoff is the main
source of the valley's high levels of
selenium.
134

EXT. FIELD - MEDIUM SHOT

Shot of REISNER standing near shut-off valve.
So here's the situation. Illegal subsidies
enrich big farmers. Their excess production
of surplus crops depresses crop prices
nationwide. Their contamination and waste of
cheap water
creates an environmental calamity that could
cost billions to solve. And the American
public knows little, or nothing, about it.
MUSIC:

UP FULL THEN OUT

BREAK POINT IN DOCUMENTARY
It was Sunday evening.

The network news had ended.

Elliot

was too busy reviewing his week's worth of ignored correspondence
to see that a television special on animation had begun.
Reflecting off his glasses, behind which his eyes intently
scanned words and numbers, were images ranging from traditional
animation to contemporary computer imaging.
A voice, or a piece of music, must have roused him.

He

pushed his glasses up, rubbed his eyes, then looked over at the
TV.

He smiled.

It was his favorite cartoon of all time.

Not

because of the style of animation, but because of the content.
He remembered it well.

The grasshopper, relaxed, not worrying,

while the ant scurried around, preparing for the coming winter.
"I'll never be the grasshopper," he thought, "but am I scurrying
around for the right reasons?"

The phone rang.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

311
CHAPTER 21

Just like the sun over the mountaintops,
You know I'll always come again.
You know I love to spend my morning times,
Like sunlight dancing on your skin.
I've never gone so wrong as for telling lies to you.
What you've seen is what I've been.
There is nothing I could hide from you.
You've seen me better than I've been.
Out on the road that lies before me now,
There are some turns where I will spin.
I only hope that you can hold me now,
Till I can gain control again.
Like a lighthouse you must stand alone,
And mark a sailor's journey in.
No matter what seas I have been sailing on,
I'll always roll this way again.
Out on the road that lies before me now,
There are some turns where I will spin.
I only hope that you can hold me now,
Till I can gain control again.
-- Rodney Crowell, "Till I Gain Control Again"
As I listen, I realize it could be my theme song.

I have

this compulsive need to control everything and everyone around
me.

I became a manipulator.

I became selfish.

I knew what I

needed to do to run things and I used people and situations to do
that.

One of the reasons I finally gave up drugs was because I

always felt out of control.

And that scared me.

to blow it, to look like a fool, to fuck up.
to me.

And drugs did that

If I was with a group of close friends and we stayed

inside, I was fine.

But if there were strangers, and we decided

to go somewhere, I became absolutely paranoid.
stopped.

I didn't want

So I finally just

Tyranny of the Downbeat

312

This compulsion to be in charge made my sex life a little
sporadic.

If I couldn't determine when, where, and how, I wasn't

comfortable.

And that affected my attitude, which had a string

tied directly to my dick.

If it wasn't right, neither was I.

And that didn't help the marriage.

Because Sandy liked being in

control, too.
I liked making love with the lights out and my eyes closed.
I don't think I ever kissed a woman, or made love to her, and
looked her straight in the eyes.

I never wanted to see her

reaction, to share that moment of complete vulnerability.

And I

certainly didn't want her to see me at my weakest, when I was
least in control.

Unfortunately, doing that is like driving with

your eyes closed.

You'll miss a lot.

You could tell by looking at my home.

The magazines neatly

stacked on the coffee table, perfectly arranged.
lined up in the closet.
rows.

The canned food in alike-minded aligned

Everything anally clean and in order.

place.

The shoes all

Nothing out of

It was hard to tell if this was someone's home or one of

the houses on "The Tour of Homes."

But I lived there and I was

proud of the order I had established and meticulously maintained.
But there was no passion, only organization.
cubbyholing my life.

I had died

Instead of allowing the chaos of feelings

into my living room, I had dust-busted them out of existence.
I plead guilty to it.
catalyst.

I am an organizer.

That's not to say I'm a workaholic.

A facilitator.

A

Unlike many of my

peers, and certainly our parents, I know there are more important
things in life than work; like love, health, family, friends, and

Tyranny of the Downbeat

sanity.

313

That's also not to say I hate to work.

I actually enjoy

what I do because I get a chance to move people.

I realized long

ago that my role in life was to get people together and keep them
together.

And that is what people look to me for.

I've always

been the one to stay in touch; to make contact and to keep
friends from drifting too far away.

It was up to me to make us

all a little crazy so we wouldn't go insane.
I guess that's why John Mayall's "Broken Wing" is playing
now.

For no reason other than conjuring old memories and putting

them in flight.
I sit drinking a gin and tonic and start thinking of a girl
I once knew.
made love to.

A high school sweetheart.

The first girl I ever

We used to share a different vice back then.

We'd

get really stoned and make love outside somewhere, in the open.
Someplace we shouldn't be; somewhere we weren't expected to be if
someone were out walking.

It was childish, even reckless, but it

was another form of freedom, sort of like "nothin' left to lose,"
like all the others we, and the rest of our friends kept seeking
and experimenting with.

Unfortunately, she dug deeper into the

counter-culture and I booted myself out of Ralston.
was time to move on or I'd never get out.

I figured it

Like she didn't.

We'd

see each other once in a while, usually during college breaks.
Then I heard from a friend of mine and hers--a policeman--who
told me she'd killed herself.
He found her.

Blew her face away with a shotgun.

She was married then and had a baby.

in the next room when she did it.
week.

The baby was

He quit the force the next

Tyranny of the Downbeat

314

She was just another victim of circumstance.
of self-inflicted loneliness.

A casualty

Maybe it was the casual neglect,

or implied disinterest, she felt from her parents; the same that
many of us felt.

All our parents had raised most of us to be

independent, free-thinking individuals.
us to use our best judgment.
nest.

They had always advised

Then they kicked us out of the

Maybe not physically, but certainly emotionally.

It made

it easier for them if their kids grew up sooner, went solo
faster.

Then they wouldn't have to be parents anymore; wouldn't

have to be responsible.

They could raise the rest of the kids,

then get on with their own lives.

Sadly, some of us were more

ready than others to take wing.

It was twenty years ago today,
That Sergeant Pepper taught the band to play.
They been goin' in and out of style,
But they're guaranteed to raise a smile.
So let me introduce to you,
The band you've known for all these years,
-- The Beatles, "Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band"
There's a saying.

Our mortality is measured by the

celebrities we grow old with.
lives.

That movies help mark out our

Do you remember who you were when you first saw

"Casablanca," "Citizen Kane," or "2001?"

In the Forties and

Fifties, perhaps even today, that was true.
it's been with Elliot.
reference is movies.

That's always how

All he knows is movies.

His only

He carves his reality from the movies he's

seen or the ones he's made.

Sometimes it seems the only way he

can communicate an idea is by referring to a similar one from a

Tyranny of the Downbeat

315

film.
For me, it wasn't the movies.

It was the music.

I

remember exactly who I was and what I was doing by certain songs.
And every time I hear that song, I'm back to what I was then, at
that moment.

In the Sixties, when I was growing up, especially

twenty years ago during "The Summer of Love," in San Francisco,
at the height of the Haight, music really did mark the time of
our lives.

All the events, all the experiences, all the memories

from that time are linked forever to a mesmerizing melody or
smashing power chord, a mobilizing lyric or communal chorus.
There's another saying.
change is eternal.

Everything is changeable.

It is inevitable.

predictable as time.

Only

It is persistent.

As tyrannical as the downbeat.

were a time for change and a time of change.

As

The Sixties

And rock & roll

provided our anthems.
Because I lived in the Central Valley, I wasn't always a
part of what was happening in San Francisco, The City.

So I

participated, vicariously, on my time machine--the radio.
It seems we always begin and end these travels with the same
band.

A group that keeps the decade alive for thousands.

The

Grateful Dead started us down the golden road and they're still
truckin' today.
But The Herald who signaled the real beginning of our trip
was, appropriately enough, a music critic:

Ralph J. Gleason,

with a little back-up from Ben Fong-Torres and local disc
jockeys.

Some on AM, but most on the first underground,

free-form, FM stations, like KMPX, then KSAN.

It was "Big Daddy"

Tyranny of the Downbeat

316

Tom Donahue, or Creedence playing the long version of "Suzy Q" at
a street dance.

The official journal of the journey was not

Gleason's "Chronicle," but a "rock tabloid."

A new publication

that commented on the counter-culture by writing about the music
it made.

A rag dedicated to printing "All the News That Fits."

Why fate chose The City as the location for this flowering
of music and gathering of tribes will never be known.
did.

But it

And it gave us an incredible amount of music and musicians.

The Charlatans.
Brummels.
Brother.

Moby Grape.

It's A Beautiful Day.

The Jefferson Airplane.
The Youngbloods.

The Beau

The Steve Miller Band.

Big

I hear Quicksilver's "Pride of Man"

and I think of Chet Helms and "The Family Dog."
I remember "Live For Today" and The Grass Roots playing at
my high school.

I went back once following graduation, for old

time's sake, wearing my first pair of wire-rimmed glasses; my
first visible attempt at rebellion.

When confronted with my

classes and facial hair, a senior football player I'd known for
years couldn't handle it.
glasses.

Almost got in a fight over a pair of

It wouldn't be the last time.

The new children will live,
For the elders have died.
I wave goodbye to America,
And smile hello to the world.
-- Tim Buckley, "Hello/Goodbye"
I remember the first "official" outdoor rock concert.
"Magic Mountain" at Mt. Tamalpais in Marin.
by Carter C.C. Collins.

Tim Buckley backed

I wondered if I should wear flowers in

Tyranny of the Downbeat

317

my hair.
"Pushin' Too Hard."
time I smoked dope.

Sky Saxon and the Seeds.

The first

I was a little less than enthusiastic about

the initiation, but it was time to experiment; to join my peers.
All I remember was staring at an aquarium for hours watching a
fish spitting rocks.
"The Loner."

Neil Young's first solo album and my first

experience with psychedelics.

We were all counter-culture

cowboys, denim Indians like him.

Fringed, buckskinned, and alone

in our melancholy.
"Feel-Like-I'm-Fixin'-to-Die-Rag" will always be Vietnam and
a long bus ride to Fresno for my induction physical.
terminally healthy.

I was

Then, there was a longer trip to the Oakland

Draft Resistance Center, knowing that if I didn't do something I
was going to die.

After all, when the numbers were called the

night of the lottery, I was number twenty-four.
"Light My Fire."

The flip side of the awakening.

Doors at a roller skating rink.
smoking and sultry.

The

On the inside, Jim Morrison was

On the outside, two gangs were beating the

hell out of each other.

The old and the new; one living, one

dying, in 4/4 time.
"Long Time Gone."

The Polo Grounds.

The Moratorium.

first taste of revolution, of defiance, of togetherness.
wearing those furry coats.

The
CS&N

I remember walking by them and

thinking how short they were.
There was a point when music and movies did come together.
"Easy Rider" broke new ground in many ways.

But I remember it

Tyranny of the Downbeat

318

especially as one of the first movies to really use rock & roll
to help tell the story.

"Born To Be Wild," "Ballad of Easy

Rider," and "Don't Bogart that Joint".

Reality at twenty-four

frames per second.
Watching "Top Gun" the other night--the latest rock & roll
movie--I hear Tom Cruise say his Mom's favorite song was Otis
Redding's "Dock of the Bay."

It's a little unsettling.

now the parents we warned ourselves about.
surprise.

It's predictable.

Just like change.

But it's really no

Just like time.

It's inevitable.

We are

It's persistent.

Like the downbeat.

Lately it occurs to me,
What a long, strange trip it's been.
-- The Grateful Dead, "Truckin'"
A roundward curving cobblestone driveway runs up to the
gabled white Victorian that houses the library.

There are

casement windows along the front and a wide staircase stepping up
to a small porch.

An expansive green lawn fronts the building.

In the middle is a small stand of birch trees.

More lawns spread

away in all directions from the house.
Rolling up behind the library and the other buildings are
rounded hills, brown from the summer's heat.

A few deep-rooted

madrone trees are the only patches of green.

Peeking over the

edge of the foothill's rim is bright azure blue sky.
breezy afternoon.

It's a warm

Welcome to summer in Marin County.

Inside, it's Victorian gaslight cozy.

Intricate stained

glass windows of amber and ocher Art-Nouveau lilies cast

Tyranny of the Downbeat

319

dusky-colored shafts of light on the polished hardwood floors.
Redwood panels cover the walls and surround the fireplace.

The

vaulted ceilings peak at various points throughout the building,
dangling crystal chandeliers.

Each ceiling is painted white,

with a trace of magenta or blue to give it a slightly tinted
glow.

Stained redwood book shelves, filled with multi-hued,

leather-bound books, climb several walls.

A few high-backed

wooden chairs stand idly around Persian rugs.
Sitting at the large oak conference table, littered with
coffee mugs, 3X5 cards, scraps of paper, videocassettes, and
lined yellow note pads, the production team was assembled.

A map

of California's water system lay at one end of the table.
More and more, as the production moved along, Elliot began
to see the commonplace as reflections of his past readings; his
research into the mythology of the hero.

Looking at the people

in this room, gathered each day, he perceived them as a host of
familiars, armed with amulets and talismans, to help him achieve
this quest.
They were discussing style, content, and structure.

Elliot

was explaining that he wanted the show to be designed as a
"docu-drama".

Interviews and voice-over narration would supply

most of the content while computer-generated images and live
action sequences would visually illustrate the information.

To

avoid charges of libel and slander, he suggested that they
present the most damning evidence and controversial accusations
as futuristic scenarios.
--Elliot

"I would like to open with a couple of scenarios.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

320

The way things might be if we don't do something."
--Western
--Elliot
--Janet

"Live action?

Just content."

"What if they mistake the illusion for the reality?"
"The shadows for the substance?"
"Fine.

them guessing.
in our lives.

Or CGI?"

"Technique doesn't matter right now.

--Western
--Elliot

Miniatures?

What's wrong with a little tension?

Fool them a little.

Keep

I think we need more tension

After all, the existentialists say man's condition

on earth is one of being caught between insoluble tensions.
on the edge.
--Janet

Keeps our skin tingling.
"It's a meta-metaphor.

--Western
--Elliot
--Janet

Keeps us

Keeps us alive."
A metaphor of a metaphor."

"A reflection of a reflection."
"Now you've got it."
"How about this one?

Clean water is in short supply.

People are hoarding it."
--Elliot
--Janet

"Sort of like 'Mad Max?'"
"Right.

Nuclear desperadoes.

Instead of hauling

gasoline, they're hauling water."
--Devereaux

"Others could be stealing it.

The good water has been rationed.

Killing for it.

As usual, the powerful have

most of it."
--Janet

"Those who don't have it start killing those who

do, so they can get water for themselves and their families."
--Elliot
--Walsh

"Like the immigrants in 'Heaven's Gate?'"
"Butchering the ranchers' cattle to feed their

starving children."
--Western

"Like any have-not.

If they want it, they have

Tyranny of the Downbeat

to take it.

321

Start a revolution."

--Valle

"And sides are taken."

--Devereaux

"Agribusiness and the water lobby against the

small farmer, environmentalists, and us."
--Valle

"Many have died fighting those people."

--Elliot

"I suspect a few more will this time."

The conversation continued into the night.
--Elliot

"I want to close with something chilling.

Like

something from the movie 'On the Beach.'"
--Janet

"They're playing 'Waltzing Mathilda.'

The captain

of the submarine is looking through the periscope."
--Western

"At downtown San Francisco."

Everyone feels a chill, looking around to see if a door or
window is open, remembering the scene.
--Elliot

"And it's empty.

Too close to home.

Completely, deathly empty and

silent."
--Valle

"Because everyone's dead."

--Elliot

"They dropped the bomb."

--Janet

"They let the one guy leave."

--Western
--Elliot

"Because they know they're all going to die."

--Valle

"It's inevitable."

--Western
--Elliot

"The one who was born there."

"So he might as well die at home."
"That's the kind of numbing reality I want.

People have got to realize they're going to die."
moment.

Let's it sink in.

them angry.

Stops for a

"I want people to panic.

Then I want them committed."

Then I want

Tyranny of the Downbeat

322

GRAPHIC DESIGN AND LAYOUT WILL CLEARLY IDENTIFY THIS SECTION AS A
CONTINUATION OF THE SCENARIO DESIGNED BY THE INSTITUTE. IT MAY BE
DESIGNED AS STORYBOARD OR COMIC BOOK PANELS.
SCENARIO OUTLINE:
CHAPTER 1:
CHAPTER TITLE:

"AND SO BEGINS THE TASK"

SCENE 1: The Flatlander watches a Havenot stealing water from one of
The League's secure wells.
SCENE 2: We follow The Flatlander across the dusty, barren Flatlands
as he travels home to Watertown. His stream-of-consciousness
interior monologue sets the physical context and historical
background of his journey. It introduces his life, his background,
and his world.
SCENE 3: In town, he goes to see The Mole, who tells him that The
League has drawn up a hit list of water rustlers and is hiring The
Barnestormers to carry out the executions.
SCENE 4: Members of the John Muir Brigade carry out a nocturnal,
amphibious assault on The Operations Control Center of one of the
nine Water Districts.
CHAPTER 2:
CHAPTER TITLE:

"THE DARK SIDE OF THE MOON"

SCENE 1: The Flatlander visits The Commodore at League headquarters.
They discuss the hit list and The Brigade raid.
SCENE 2:
Colonel.

In the street outside, The Flatlander confronts The
The Colonel almost taunts him into a gunfight.

SCENE 3: The Commodore and The Colonel visit the lab of Daedalus.
The Commodore orders the scientist to add a new weapon to his
bestiary. He wants an aquatic creature to battle the frogmen of The
Brigade.
SCENE 4: The Flatlander spends the night in the arms of Creole
Tattoo. They talk of The Commodore, the hit list, and how The
Colonel has been abusing some of her hostesses.
SCENE 5: In
The Deacon's
know why The
They hatch a

his AgriChem office, The Commodore and The Colonel watch
24-hour electronic ministry. The Commodore wants to
Colonel hasn't done anything to rid him of The Rounders.
plan to infiltrate and discredit The Rounders, who The

Tyranny of the Downbeat

323

Commodore suspects is collaborating with The Brigade.
SCENE 6: Following the unpleasant meeting with The Commodore, The
Colonel visits Creole's place. He gets wired on drugs and alcohol
and goes looking for a hostess to keep him company.
SCENE 7: Creole secretly meets with The Flatlander. She gives him a
copy of the surveillance videotape of The Colonel shot earlier that
night.
CHAPTER 3:
CHAPTER TITLE:

"IN THE REALM OF THE POSSIBLE"

SCENE 1: We watch as The Colonel nonchalantly dresses following his
night with one of the hostesses.
SCENE 2: In his office, The Flatlander reviews the videotape given
to him by Creole. He watches as The Colonel murders the hostess.
SCENE 3: The Flatlander finds The Colonel in a saloon and tries to
arrest him. In the ensuing battle, The Flatlander is shot in the
back by a Barnestormer and killed.
SCENE 4: The Mole watches the previous scene on a monitor. Another
person watches from over his shoulder. We discover it's The
Flatlander. The previous scene was a computer-generated "scenario"
created by The Mole.
SCENE 5: The Puppetmaster and members of The Calafia Institute watch
The Flatlander watch The Colonel.
CHAPTER 4:
CHAPTER TITLE:

"DREAM TIGERS"

SCENE 1: The Flatlander visits Creole's Parlor for a surreptitious
attitude adjustment.
SCENE 2: The Institute sends out a "dream weaver" to initiate and
monitor his dreams. The Flatlander begins dreaming. He dreams of
caves, of shadows, of The Commodore, of wide rivers. When he
awakens, he decides to visit Serious Moonlight and have his dreams
interpreted.
SCENE 3: The Flatlander arrives in Boomtown on his way to the
Shaman. The town is tense because of the confrontation between The
Holy Modal Rounders, who are trying to save the souls of The Ratz,
and the security force of AgriChem, who are trying to stop them.
SCENE 4: The local sheriff tells The Flatlander that an important
member of AgriChem's upper management team has been murdered by The

Tyranny of the Downbeat

324

Rounders in Watertown. It is the same man who framed The Deacon and
ousted him from AgriChem.
SCENE 5: The Flatlander insists on finishing his journey before
returning. He finds The Shaman, who interprets his dreams. He
is told that The Commodore is his brother and that they will share
the same destiny.
CHAPTER 5:
CHAPTER TITLE:

"#1 WITH A BULLET"

SCENE 1: Upon his return, The Flatlander learns from The Mole that
The Colonel and his Barnestormers have begun murdering the people on
the hit list, with the sanction of The League and The Territorial
Chairman.
SCENE 2: The Flatlander begins investigating the murder of the
AgriChem manager. He discovers that although Barnestormers were
ordered by The Colonel to do the killing, The League infiltrators
planted evidence that points directly at The Deacon. The Flatlander
chooses to ignore this and to use this knowledge instead to keep The
Deacon in line.
SCENE 3: Realizing that The Flatlander is stretching the law and
doesn't intend to prosecute The Deacon, The Commodore adds his name
to the hit list.
SCENE 4: The Flatlander travels to River Junction to visit The
Chairman at The Territorial Seat to discuss the vigilante action of
The League. The Chairman tells him not to worry and assures him that
all will be well.
CHAPTER 6:
CHAPTER TITLE:

"GUNFIGHT AT THE GATE"

SCENE 1: During his absence, The Muirs kidnap and hang several
Barnestormers for the murder of the Havenot families and a handful of
AgriChem managers for their misuse of natural resources and the abuse
of Mother Earth.
SCENE 2: Seeking revenge, The Colonel challenges them and their
leader to a mob duel. The Muirs accept and agree to meet at mid-span
of the Golden Gate Bridge to do battle to the death. The Muirs lose.
SCENE 3: In the ensuing battle, The Muirs lose.
Muirs is wounded in a duel with The Colonel.

The leader of the

SCENE 4: The leader of The Muirs escapes. Returning to water, we
discover that Creole Tattoo is the leader of The Muirs.

Tyranny of the Downbeat
CHAPTER 7:
CHAPTER TITLE:

325

"IN THE NAME OF LOVE"

SCENE 1: In dire need of an attitude fix, The Colonel goes to
Creole's. Following a monster hit from the "Dial-A-Mood" machine, he
begins making rounds of the house looking for Creole. Finding her,
he notices that she's wearing a sling and bandage that looks very new
and very much like something that would be covering a wound similar
to that inflicted on the leader of
The Muirs.
SCENE 2: He forces her into revealing her true identity. Enraged,
he drags her to her room where he rapes her then beats her senseless.
He leaves her unconscious and, he thinks, dead.
SCENE 3: The Flatlander, just back from River Junction, finds her
bleeding and dying. Before she dies in his arms, she admits to being
leader of The Muirs and whispers the name of her murderer: The
Colonel.
CHAPTER 8:
CHAPTER TITLE:
SCENE 1:

"PROMISES IN THE DARK"

Seeking revenge, The Flatlander begins his return journey.

SCENE 2: Enlisting the aid of The Mole People, The Rounders, and
some Havenots, he begins preparations for the final battle. He plans
to storm The Center and take it away from The League. If necessary,
he will destroy it.
CHAPTER 9:
CHAPTER TITLE:
SCENE 1:

"THE FINAL COUNTDOWN"

The Flatlander and his motley crew storm The Center.

SCENE 2: The Flatlander and The Colonel engage in a duel to the
death. The Flatlander wins.
SCENE 3: The Flatlander storms the barricaded office of The
Commodore. Face-to-face, he tells him they are brothers.
CHAPTER 10:
CHAPTER TITLE:

"CRISTO REDENTOR"

SCENE 1: Resolution, triumph, and reward. The Commodore, unable to
face failure and the fact that he nearly murdered his brother,
commits suicide by drowning himself.
SCENE 2:

Daedalus escapes underground.

Tyranny of the Downbeat
SCENE 3:

326

The Barnestormers are jailed or dispersed.

SCENE 4: The Mole People, The Rounders, The Havenots, and The
Barons, with the assistance of The Mole and The Flatlander, begin to
establish a new order.
SCENE 5:
wonder.

The Puppetmaster and The Institute look on in bemused

BREAK POINT IN SCENARIO
Inside the office, the monitors are flickering, casting
silver-blue shadows on the walls.

An electronic fireplace.

Playing on one is the "CBS Evening News."

On another is CNN.

The third is almost too dark to see anything.
"Where was this shot?," Borba asks.
"Near Mendota."
"Night scope?"
"Yes."
As we get closer, we can vaguely make out a shape.
silhouette.

It raises its arm and strikes.

A human

A second figure,

carrying a gun, falls.
"Any idea who it is?"
"We think it's one of the Vietnamese migrant workers living
near Masterson."
"Why's he stealing water?"
"The well on his land is poisoned with selenium."
"So he's stealing it?"
"He's not the first."
"He won't be the last."
turns off the reality.
then slowly fades out.

Borba reaches for the remote and

The image collapses into a white hole

Tyranny of the Downbeat

327
CHAPTER 22

We're not afraid to run.
We're not afraid to die.
So, come on wheels, take me home today.
Come on wheels, take this boy away.
Come on wheels, take this boy away.
-- Chris Hillman & Gram Parsons, "Wheels"
The request was more than a surprise.

It was a shock.

An

aide to Congressman John Anthony Borba had just phoned to make an
appointment to meet with Elliot.

They had agreed to breakfast at

the Mark Hopkins.
Entering the suite, both men had to smile at the amount of
back-up each carried.

Santiago and an aide backed Borba, Western

and Walsh flanked Elliot.

Forever entrapped in his analogies,

Elliot must have felt like Burt Lancaster playing Wyatt Earp at
the OK Corral.
Following coffee and cordialities, Borba wasted little time
getting to his agenda.

It was obvious he was here to assess his

adversary.
"I know about your project.

Probably more than you

realize."
Unprepared for, then angered by, the presumption of the
question, Elliot, tensing for the fight, tried to casually mask
it.

"Seems you're aware of everything that happens in this

state."
"I try to be.

It's part of my job."

Elliot surveyed the room and smelled the tension.

"Is part

of your job trying to intimidate me?"
"You realize that I represent a very large and influential

Tyranny of the Downbeat

constituency?

328

One that is very concerned about what you've

uncovered doing your so-called 'investigative reporting,' as well
as what you intend to say and how you intend to say it."
"I don't really think it's any of your business.

Or

theirs."
"It affects their business, so I guess it is.

Besides, they

think maybe you don't know what you're talking about.

That you

don't really know what's going on."
"And what's really going on is what you say is going on."
"They feel, and so do I, that by looking at the situation
from the outside, without an understanding of the internal
dynamics--the way things really work--that you may go for the
largest common denominator.

As anyone in your business would do.

To reach the most people with the simplest message."
"You underestimate my skills and you insult my audience."
"The bottom line here, Lincoln, is we're afraid you might
draw some conclusions that are unfounded, misleading, and
damaging."
"And I suppose you intend to help me understand the
situation better and draw the right conclusions?"
"Let's just say we can help you with your perspective."
Elliot had reached the end of the line.
throwing your power in my face.
you're capable of.

"Look, don't be

I know who you are and what

The same for your constituency."

"We have nothing to hide."
"They say a clear conscience is nothing more than bad
memory."

Tyranny of the Downbeat

329

"And what if your program doesn't reach your audience?

What

if the word doesn't get out?"
The veiled implication was very obvious.
room sensed it.

Everyone in the

The color disappeared from Elliot's face, as if

someone had turned the hourglass over and all the sand had
drained away.

He grasped the arms of the chair with his shaking

hands as he leaned toward the congressman's face.
going to stop me.

I believe in what I'm doing.

intelligence of my audience.
integrity and my own.

"You're not
I believe in the

I believe in my films.

Their

This program will have an impact or I

wouldn't be doing it."
"Should I consider this a threat?"
"Consider it anything you want.

I won't let anything, or

anyone, get in my way once I get started.

I finish what I start,

no matter what."
Borba leaned in, going face-to-face, and snarled.

"No

matter what?"
"Now who's threatening?"

After seeing Elliot to his car, Pat and I stopped off at the
Eagle Cafe after the meeting.
adrenalin.

We needed something to slow the

The showdown had frayed my nerves a little.

"That was amazing."
"Why?"
"He's usually no good at that kind of thing."
"What?"
"Confrontation.

He really hates it.

It's like having to

Tyranny of the Downbeat

330

fire someone."
"'Can't hit a moving target?'

Seems like he handled it

pretty well to me."
Nods agreement.

"He's lousy at that stuff for a reason.

He's shy and insecure and just a bit of a coward."
"He does the walkin' and his movies do the talkin'?"
Nods again.

"I think we've reached a turning point.

It

could get real strange and ugly from here on out."
"I guess he doesn't like being challenged?"
"No, and especially not by people like that."
"Like that, what?"
"Men in charge.

Men in power.

Men in control.

ever seen that button behind his desk?

Have you

The blue one with the

white letters?"
"I think so.

But I don't really remember what it says.

Guess I never looked at it that closely."
"He's had as long as I've known him.

Jane says he's

probably had it since high school."
"So what does it say?"
"Two words.

Just two simple words."

"Well?"
"'Question Authority'.
naive.

Elliot may be easy.

Even a little

But he has a strength he's never really drawn upon.

has his own code that he lives by.
he can be ruthless in their defense.
right with the world.
corrupted or denied.

His own set of values.

He
And

It's his vision of what's

It can't be changed.

He won't let it be

That's why he's been so successful."

Tyranny of the Downbeat

"Like a pit bull.

331

Locks its jaws so tight you have to kill

it before it'll let go?"
"Something like that."
"Sounds a little like frontier justice."
"That's his code.

It's in every one of his movies.

He's

real easy until you cross him, or piss him off."
"Holds a grudge, does he?"
"To the grave."

Driving home across the Golden Gate, Elliot, calmed by the
bay, thought about Borba; how they were so different, yet so
alike.

Elliot, like the rest of the young men born in the early

forties, had been prepared to defend his country.

Vietnam was

still a brush fire, and no one was yet questioning our presence
there when he went in for his induction physical.

He figured, if

he had to go, he'd serve in the Signal Corps as a communications
man, shooting training films, or recon, for the army.
they told him he had diabetes.

He was 4F.

Then

The temporary

interruption, the mental plans, the preparations to do battle,
were over and he got back to his life.
He had that in common with Borba.

Probably the only thing.

Borba's epilepsy had kept him out of the service and would
probably keep him from becoming governor or President; ambitions
he certainly had.

That was the bond; of men whose lives had been

changed because a genetic code had gone awry.

And there wasn't

anything they could do but try to control it and live their lives
around it.

It would never be cured.

It would never go away.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

332

What their diseases did for both of them was constantly, daily,
remind them of their mortality.

For Borba, it became an edge.

For Elliot, a destiny.
There was another connection; the two joined at the hip by
adolescent misfortune.

Elliot, too, had died in a previous life.

He survived the wreck on that summer's afternoon, but the old
Elliot died in the debris.

Unlike Borba, Elliot's brush with

death had made him more compassionate, more introspective.

He

had chosen to dedicate his life to the positive aspects of
humanity, not their dark side.

The lines had been drawn, the gauntlet thrown.
had a much clearer idea of who he was up against.
pretty powerful alliance.

Elliot now
And it was a

Water contractors like Westlands,

agrichemical companies like OxyGene, factory farms like DiGiulio
and the Marriposa Combine, legal corporations like Delancy &
Reed, and politicians like John Anthony Borba.

They were

influential enough to keep the water cheap and flowing.

Their

lobbying, litigating, and contributions to campaign and PAC war
chests kept loopholes open and official eyes closed.

State

government, the governor, and the legislature--the entire
bureaucracy--just couldn't say no to the money.
got dirtier and more deadly.
stink.

The water just

And it was all beginning to really

It was money and power against ethics and environment.

It was life and death.
sabotage and espionage.

And everything was fair, even acts of
They were going to fight dirty and they

were going to take it all the way to the end, no matter who got

Tyranny of the Downbeat

333

hurt in the process.

Beware of what you wish for in youth for you will surely
achieve it in middle age.
-- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Why
And
Why
Why

do birds sing so gay,
lovers await the break of day?
do they fall in love?
does the rain fall from above?

Why do fools fall in love?
Why do they fall in love?
Love is a losing game,
Love can be a shame;
I know of a fool you see,
For that fool is me.
Tell me why?
Tell me why?
Why do fools fall in love?
Why do they fall in love?
--Frankie Lymon & Morris Levy, "Why Do Fools Fall in Love?"
It had been a killer day.
sweating through my shirt.
about it anymore.

The uneasiness clung; the stress

And I was too exhausted to think

Pat had sense enough to go home.

So I stayed at the Eagle for another drink.
avoidance time.

Or two.

I didn't.
It was

Of all forms of reality.

It was at times like these--and during those all-night edit
sessions--when I realized that Sandy had become a video widow.
It was like being the wife of a rock-n-roller.

The hours were

always too long, you were never in control of your own destiny,
and she could never go out on the road with you.
was always pulling the strings.
plans.

Someone else

So you could never really make

Because somebody, usually the one with the money, would

Tyranny of the Downbeat

334

invariably change things.
it.

She accepted it, but didn't understand

And no amount of explaining ever seemed to satisfy her.

was one of the reasons she finally started looking around.

It
For

something, or someone, that might be a little more dependable, a
little more available.

Someone who would just be there.

And it was at times like these, as I ordered the fourth
drink beyond the two I figured I'd have, that I realize I have a
drinking problem.
Hank's.

It's part of our family tradition.

My Mother died because of it.

brothers died alcoholics.
hopelessly addicted.

Just like

A few of her sisters and

My Dad likes his cocktails.

And I'm

I know that now because it's easier to have

a drink and deny there's a problem.

It's more enjoyable to be a

little addled than it is to face the world stone sober.
realize now what a drug alcohol really is.
difficult it is to quit.

I

And I realize how

Especially since there's so much

pressure, from colleagues and friends, to have a few drinks.
There are simply too few social situations anymore where you
aren't expected, or given the opportunity, to drink.

So I ignore

the problem and have another.
When I confessed to it one weekend at Gover's, he and Walsh
laughed.

It became the theme for the weekend, like the "Rock

Hudson Memorial Weekend" and the "Pick Ax in the Door Weekend."
Every time the conversation would stall, or the fun would stop,
everyone would toast my drinking problem.

Needless to say, the

rest of my friends had a problem, too.
I'm not sure how I got home that evening.
open, but I was driving blind.

My eyes were

The day and the drinks had

Tyranny of the Downbeat

exacted their tribute.

335

She was waiting.

should have known better.

It was time to talk.

I

Alcohol made me more honest--and

belligerent--than either of us really liked.

We couldn't stand

the heat and light it could sometimes generate.
We both went through the preparation ritual, fixing drinks,
lighting a cigarette, going to the bathroom, turning on the
answering machine.

We didn't want any interruptions.

The alcohol kicked me into gear.
because people stop communicating.

"Marriages break up

So, let's communicate.

Let's

have a conversation."
She's defensive but she knows it's past time.
"Where do you want to start?"
No response so I'll have to initiate.
"What about what's right with our marriage, our
relationship?"
She picks up an edge of the magazine lying between us.
"I guess I'll start, then.

I think one of the best things

we've got going is that we're friends.
enjoy each other's company.

We get along.

We seem to

We like the same things."

She looks out at the pine trees.
"Besides, we've built a good life together.
of good memories here, things to cherish.

There's a lot

But memories can't

sustain a relationship."
Her eyes shift to the floor.
"You know, we don't know how to tell each other when we're
dissatisfied.

Have you ever thought about that?

afraid to express negative feelings.

We're both

We're both

Tyranny of the Downbeat

non-confrontational.

336

It's easier to create this monster in our

own mind and then react to it than it is to deal with it.

It's

easier to justify having an affair or leaving because, in our
minds, we believe the other person no longer cares for us, or has
already given up on the marriage."
She takes a short sip from her drink.
"Instead of wasting energy on these mind games, we should be
talking.

I think there's real truth to the statement that we

choose things by letting them happen.

It's much easier to be a

fatalist, to say it's meant to be, instead of looking at why's
it's happening and trying to stop it.

Or at least looking

closely at whether we want to stop it or not."
She lights yet another cigarette and begins toying with her
lighter.
"What else?
harangue me.

When I don't want to do something, don't

Talk me into it.

Don't stop talking.

I mean, you

talk about me getting my way, but whenever I don't jump at
something you want to do, you put on 'that face' and you stop
talking.

You know what face.

The stone face.

The angry face."

She's wearing it now.
"I think we bicker too much.

Like your parents.

just like your Mom when you get angry.
'smart-ass' comments.

You shut down.

You act
You make

And then you say you don't know what I'm

talking about when I call you on it."
She's doing it now.
"I think we view people differently.
differently.

I trust them, you don't.

We act on things

I give them the benefit

Tyranny of the Downbeat

of the doubt.

337

You're too negative sometimes.

Too critical.

No,

that doesn't mean I don't care for you and respect your opinion.
I have to deal with my friends my way, like I have to do with all
the others you've grown to dislike or distrust.

Yes, I know

that when we got married, you inherited all my friends, whether
you wanted them or not.

And I made the mistake of assuming,

because I got along so well with you and that these people were
close friends,

other people I really liked, I thought you'd get

to know them, too.

Problem is they're my friends, not yours.

And I can't expect you to like them or even want to see them.
It's taken me a long time to realize that, but I do now."
She turns on a light because it's getting dark.
"I guess I want to live my own life.

I want to be able to

do what I want to do without reporting to someone.
sounds selfish.
I do.

And I know you think I always get my way.

But that's because I go after it.

want and can make a decision.
than you are.
sustenance.

I know that
Maybe

Because I know what I

Maybe I'm just more independent

I don't rely on you totally for support and
I know you're getting better at it.

But I can't

always be stopping to think if what I'm doing is better for you
or someone else.
out for myself.

I'm just not wired that way.

I'm going to look

Maybe that comes from being raised in a family

of five with no money.

You get what you can for yourself and you

hoard it, because there may not be anymore for a while."
Now I take a long drink from my beer.
on a roll.

Because I'm dry and

"You complain too much about things you can't

control, like eating and drinking too much, your weight, how old

Tyranny of the Downbeat

338

you're getting, how many wrinkles you've got.
were born old.
wrinkles.

It's an attitude.

People who are old

It's got nothing to do with

All you're doing is stressing yourself out.

yourself too hard.

You can't seem to relax anymore.

that's why we went to Hawaii.

I mean

Remember?"

I'm sure she's thinking about Hawaii.
along then.

You push

About how well we got

For a while.

"And yet you fell back into the old routine.
worry too much about money.

You still

I know we wouldn't be in the

good financial shape we're in today if you didn't.
appreciate it.

No, I do

But you can share your concerns with me.

You

really can't do anything about money or getting older, so just
lighten up a bit.

I mean, you don't even laugh anymore.

I think

you've lost your sense of humor and your sense of perspective.
Don't forget, those were part of our marriage vows.

Right.

I

never let you forget."
She shifts in her chair, getting defensive.
"Damn it, I am being supportive.
don't do anything together any more.
food, so I go alone.
alone.

You don't like Mexican

You don't like my friends, so I visit them

You don't like Ralston, my parents or the rest of the

family, so I go alone.
alone.

I'm being so supportive we

You don't like going to movies, so I go

We even have sex alone."

That one catches her off-guard.
"You remember when we had the big blow-out with my Father?
They gave us a list of your so-called 'crimes.'
pretty petty.

Every one was

I know it hurt you worse than anything.

But I'm

Tyranny of the Downbeat

339

just trying to tell you that the crimes you accuse me of are just
as petty.

No, there isn't a difference because you're hurting

me, too."
She adjusts her hair before bringing up the main issue.
"Yes, our sex life sucks.
drive than you do.

But I just have a different sex

And I'm not gay.

hate it when you say that.

I'm offended by it.

have the same interest as you do.
America's marriages are sexless?
for us then.

I'm not abnormal.

I just don't

Did you know that over 60% of
No, that doesn't make it okay

I'm just pointing out a fact.

may think, I'm comfortable with my sexuality.

Contrary to what you
And I know this'll

hurt, but I really enjoyed sex before we got married.
a point in our own relationship.
no fun since.

I really

Even up to

Then it got bad and it's been

I think you should have fun when you make love.

It should be enjoyable because you're sharing something special
with someone special.
long while.

But it hasn't been that way for us for a

No, it's not because you're getting old.

not because you're not attractive.
desirable.

And it's

I still find you very

Until I start to think of how every time we make love

it becomes a marathon and a bed of nails, a mine field.

Then I

panic and can't get it up."
I can see the lines of panic spreading around her eyes.
"And you're no help, because no matter how hard we both try,
you just get angry.

I don't want to have to perform in the

bedroom when I perform all day at work.
nice, too.

You know, 'quickies' are

Maybe they just seem that way because the longer we

wait, the more time that passes between our lovemaking, the

Tyranny of the Downbeat

340

harder it is to make it casual.
significance than it deserves.

It takes on a greater
Sure it hurts.

If I can't get

excited and stay excited, it's not something about you that's
causing it.

It's not something you're doing or not doing.

That's your low self-image talking again.

You need to have

confidence in yourself and your attractiveness.
to come from you.

And that's got

Not because you think I don't find you

desirable enough to make love to?"
She keeps shaking her head.
"I also need reinforcement of my attractiveness.
fantasize.

I

I'd like to see if I could attract someone.

something new.

Fall in love and be loved.

any more than you are.
drunk or stoned.

No, I'm not looking

Maybe I can't make love without being

Sure, that's the way it started.

too nervous, so I got fucked up.

I was always

That made it easier.

course, it also made me associate the two.
without the other.

Try

Of

I couldn't do one

In fact, if you remember, on our first date I

was so drunk I couldn't get it up at all.

Maybe that was a

sign."
She laughs sharply.
"Maybe my problem is that I like making love to strangers.
Something new, unusual, exciting.

I can't seem to make love to

friends, to someone I respect and care about.
as an act of violation.
don't like that.

I still look at it

It's like hurting the one you love.

And I'll tell you something else.

As sexually

liberated as I may be, I do like to play the dominant role.
like to control the lovemaking.

I

I

That's probably why I don't like

Tyranny of the Downbeat

you on top.

341

I'm not in control.

This may sound contradictory,

but I shouldn't always have to initiate.
in a while.

Entice me into bed.

You could start it once

That would be nice."

An embarrassed shrug.
"One of the biggest problems, and it's the one that'll never
go away and will probably break us up, is the fact you hate
Ralston, while I seem to still have a fascination for it.
probably never resolve that one.

We'll

I think it's like my friends.

Even though you were raised there, it's like you inherited it all
over again when you married me.

So, like my friends, I accept

your attitude, like you must accept mine, and I will get my
Ralston fix when and how I can without you.
want to move back.

Have you ever thought that moving to Ralston

might get rid of a big problem?
attached to it?
worth it?

I'm not saying I

The disagreements and resentment

Why can't you try it?

Isn't the relationship

Haven't we tried every place in between?"

She just rolls her eyes and shakes her head, hearing the
same arguments yet again.
"I think you're jealous of my family and friends.

That I

have as many as I do and that I get along with them as well as I
do.

You really don't have either.

parents.

You tolerate your sister.

really close friends.
anything about it.

You really don't like your
And you've got about three

I'm sorry if that's true, but I can't do

I miss my friends.

I miss that sense of

community, that sense of 'connectedness' to a place I know and
people I care about.

I have friends and a family I like, some as

much as you, and they like me.

But I can share my affection.

It

Tyranny of the Downbeat

342

doesn't mean there's not a place for you in my life.
me to choose one over the other.
that position before.

Don't make

You certainly have put me in

What you're forcing me to do is choose

between a place and a person.

No, it's NOT a state of mind.

It's a very real place with very real people.

But as far as

you're concerned, it's gotta be either or, one or the other.

And

that's not fair at all."
She leans back into the couch, staring into the fireplace.
"I think there's a 'sleaze' factor creeping into your life.
And I'm not sure it wasn't there before we met.

I'm sorry, but

you wanted to hear what was wrong so I'm telling you.
like it when you stay out late.
the Miramar.

I don't

I really hate it when you go to

I realize you just want to have some fun.

And I

know you're looking for reinforcement of your attractiveness.
But I think you're hanging out with those losers to feel needed.
Because you think I don't need you.
own.

Well I can't.

things we share.

That I can survive on my

I want you here, at home, with me, with the

You shouldn't have to hit the bars.

something is wrong.

If you do,

And if we can't change it, it's gone.

it's boring sitting at home watching TV.

You'd rather be out.

But what's so wrong with spending some time with me?
know I don't like hanging out in bars.

Sure,

And you

I like my home.

Sure, we

may be watching TV, but at least we're in the same room for a
change."
She takes a furious drag, exhaling very, very slowly.
"Part of what I don't like about it is that you're drinking
too much.

I think it's avoidance.

You're not alone there.

We

Tyranny of the Downbeat

343

both drink too much and for all the wrong reasons.

It's easier

to have a few and go into neutral instead of worrying about the
fact that life's slipping by, that you're not doing what you want
to do, or any number of other things.
problem, too.

That's part of the

I think there's more emphasis in our life on

quantity not quality, on doing not being.

We spend more time

doing some things than being some things."
She agrees.
"What do I want to do?
angry and disappointed.

I don't know.

Look, I get hurt,

But I'm not ready to chuck it.

about you and I'd like to think we could make it work.
make mistakes.

People admit mistakes.

I care
People

People forgive mistakes.

Sure I should have thought of that before.

I just want to make

sure when, and if, I do leave, it's for the right reasons.

That

we've done everything we could and that I'm not making a mistake,
something I'll regret.

Maybe I have already made my decision.

I

don't think you should stay with me because I'm safe and
convenient.

That doesn't do either one of us any good.

Stay

because you want to, because you care about me and respect who I
am.

You have to decide if you want to be a part of my life, of

this life, or not.

If you do, you have to fight for it."

Her body flinches as it continues to take the body blows.
"You know, sometimes I wonder why you seem to dislike and
disrespect me so much.
don't cheat on you.
nice?
me?

I don't drink.

I don't beat you up.

I don't steal money.

You've called me 'The Saint' before?
That I can do no wrong?

You said it.

I

Am I just too fucking
Is that how you see
I've gotta live it.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

No, I'd like to know.

344

Do you really respect me?

I think that's

important, especially as a marriage gets older, more settled into
routine.
no sex.

Without respect, there's no love.
It's just fucking.

right now.

Without love there's

I'm sure you'd be glad to have that

Maybe you have already."

That get's a response.

These are the jibes that try our

patience.
"I trusted you and how did you repay me?
fucking around.

What I am supposed to think and do?

you figure I'll just sit and wait.
it.

With abuse.

I'm sure

That I'll just keep taking

And when I get fed up, I'll leave.

But that's fine, because

you think I want to leave anyway and go back to Ralston.
you can't blame yourself.

With

Then

It won't have been your fault."

She drains the last of her drink.
"Once I thought I knew you.

But I guess you really don't

know someone, because the more we talk, the more you tell me, the
more I think I know you better now than when we got married, the
more I realize I really don't know who you are or what you want."
Her lower lip starts to tremble.
"Look, if you're really my friend, you'd know where the
boundaries are.
can't give it.

Don't expect any more or less of me because I
It's inconsiderate of you to expect it.

You'll

find that just about everyone else in this world is a lot less
forgiving and a lot harder than I am.

And I really hope you

don't discover that too late."
The tears are beginning.
"All I'm trying to do is live my life the best way I know

Tyranny of the Downbeat

how.

I can't live yours.

not uncaring.

345

I'm not selfish.

There are no secret plans.

I'm not evil.

I'm

I'm just a kid trying

to get through this life without too many scars on his knees."
Suddenly, it's done.

We're staring at strangers.

truth has very few friends and those few are suicides.

They say
We are

obstinate in our silence, unbending in our ridiculous refusal to
embrace the other; to hold them and tell them that we care.
decides she can't stand the sound of the silence any more.
leaves the room.
refuge.

I know she's gone to bed.

put it to my temple and commit electronic seppuku.

She didn't recognize the
face at first
But then her eyes flew
open wide
She went to hug me and she
spilled her purse
And we laughed until we cried
We took her groceries to the
checkout stand
The food was totaled up and
bagged
We stood there lost in our
embarrassment
As the conversation dragged
We went to have ourselves
a drink or two
But couldn't find an open bar
We bought a six-pack at

She

To her emotional

I pick up the remote and turn on the television.

Met my old lover in the
grocery store
The snow was falling Christmas Eve
I stole behind her in the
frozen foods
And I touched her on the sleeve

She

Then I

Tyranny of the Downbeat
the liquor store
And we drank it in her car
We drank a toast to
innocence
We drank a toast to now
And tried to reach beyond
the emptiness
But neither one knew how
She said she'd married herself
an architect
Who kept her warm and safe
and dry
She would have liked to say she
loved the man
But she didn't like to lie
I said the years had been a
friend to her
And that her eyes were still
as blue
But in those eyes I wasn't
sure if I saw
Doubt or gratitude
She said she saw me in the
record stores
And that I must be doing well
I said the audience was
heavenly
But the traveling was hell
We drank a toast to innocence
We drank a toast to now
And tried to reach beyond the
emptiness
But neither one knew how
We drank a toast to innocence
We drank a toast to time
Reliving in our eloquence
Another 'auld lang syne' ...
The beer was empty and our
tongues were tired
And running out of things to say
She gave a kiss to me as I got out
And I watched her drive away

346

Tyranny of the Downbeat

Just for a moment I was
back in school
And felt that old familiar pain
And as I turned to make
my way back home
The snow turned into rain.
-- Dan Fogelberg, "Same Old Lang Syne"
ALTA CALIFORNIA
--------------------------------------------------------------WATER HEARINGS BEGIN
The fate of fresh water to be determined.
By Stephan Harrington
OF THE RECORD STAFF
"Riparian rights" became the phrase of the week as hearings
opened today on the issue of water in California. The state
began its investigation into its use, distribution, management,
and quality.
"Riparian rights": Anyone who owns the land running along a
stream has a right to use the water from that stream any way they
want. They can fish it, divert it for irrigation, or do nothing
with it. As long as what they do doesn't conflict with the
rights of others downstream.
The subject is critical because the state is reviewing the
sources that supply water for drinking and agriculture.
The list of participants includes officials from local,
state, and federal agencies; associations representing water
suppliers and users; reporters, experts, consultants, and, of
course, a league of lawyers.
The hearings are expected to continue over a three-year
period. It is anticipated that the findings will then form the
basis for new salinity, pollution and water rights policies.
It is very obvious from their opening remarks that the
opposing groups do not agree with the findings and evidence
presented by the other.
There are many points--some critical--that are simply
conflicting or downright contradictory. Which only proves, once
again, that when searching for, and compiling facts and
evidence--especially in science--one can invariably find what
one is looking for.
The opposing sides are well-defined and have been since the
first rivers and creeks were claimed and diverted to irrigate
fields back in the late 19th Century.
On one side are the water suppliers, like the state
agencies and associations of water contractors, and the
water-users, the factory farms, and municipalities, like Los
Angeles, who have something to gain, like water and more water.

347

Tyranny of the Downbeat
On the other side are the scientists, the
environmentalists, and the municipalities, like San Francisco,
who have something to lose, like good water and unpolluted bays.
And in between are the local, state, and federal agencies
who get their money and power from one side, but whose charter
and stated goals predispose them toward supporting the other,
like the Department of Water Resources and the Fish and Wildlife
Services, both state and federal.
And each side sees the issues very differently, sometimes
even among themselves.
One key issue moved to the forefront immediately and it
became obvious that it would likely be critical throughout the
hearings.
Not since the very first water rights were originally
determined has there been such a definite threat to water rights
holders, even those with riparian rights and appropriations
granted before 1914. They face nothing less than radical changes
and, possibly, loss of their rights to divert and use water.
So it will not take long for them to muster the political
and monetary forces necessary to avoid, or minimize, potential
losses.
The looming battle reminds me of the book "The Octopus": a
novel by Frank Norris about the war between farmers and ranchers
in early California. Instead of wheat, the two sides today are
line up over water. "The Octopus" was originally intended to be
written as a trilogy. Drought. Water. Flood. It did drought.
We were living water. Who would do the flood?
This anecdote says much to me about the attitude of those
now controlling the water out here. In Reno, gambling and
prostitution are legal. For years, one thing wasn't. Water
metering.

348

Tyranny of the Downbeat

349
CHAPTER 23

Night and morning are making promises to each other which
neither will be able to keep.
-- Richard Shelton
We were all grateful for the well-insulted walls of The Ice
Plant, and at least the illusion of coolness, while the sun
fried anything that moved outside.

Elliot had made the run down

the valley to see his parents and to update the rest of the
production team about the meeting with Borba.
Everyone was there who wasn't on the road.

He gave us

all a quick report before cautioning us that it was time to take
a few precautions; at work and at home.

He said he had strong

reservations about reaching into our personal lives, but
explained that these were unusual times.

He didn't want the

project jeopardized because one of his people--especially any of
the key staffers--were partying on the wrong side of the law
during their off-hours.

He didn't want anybody rung up on

charges of possession, DUI, or anything.

After the meeting he'd

just had, he was sure these people were not above crippling the
project any way they could.

So he asked that we all keep our

personal lives clean and just be careful out there.
Devereaux, Walsh, and I wanted to talk with Elliot so we
waited until the room had cleared.
--Western
action groups.

"We've been talking with some of the direct
'The Sea Shepherds,' 'Earth First,' and 'The John

Muir Brigade.'
--Elliot "I don't think I know them.

Are they

Tyranny of the Downbeat

350

monkey-wrenchers?"
--Walsh

"Some of the first.

They are deep ecology's

army."
--Devereaux

"Their goal is, and these are their words, 'to

subvert the dominant paradigm' through direct confrontation,
passive resistance, and vandalism."
--Western

"They started by tearing down billboards, pulling

up survey markers, clipping fences, lying down in front of
bulldozers, and spiking trees so they can't be harvested for
lumber."
--Elliot

"Hasn't that been happening a lot lately to

Georgia-Pacific?"
--Devereaux

"Yes.

The Sea Shepherds are their navy.

They

sank part of Iceland's whaling fleet."
--Walsh

"Now that they've had some degree of success and

media attention, they'll probably become more visible and more
confrontational."
--Elliot

"And more influential?"

--Western

"The John Muir Brigade is the most militant of

these Eco-Revolutionnaires.

It's likely they'll be the first to

really escalate this scattered ecological terrorism into a
full-scale environmental guerilla war."
--Elliot

"That means attracting more media."

--Devereaux
--Elliot
--Western

"And that means more supporters."

"Can they help us?"
"If we want to showcase romantic revolutionaries.

They're the closest thing this generation's got to the Yippies

Tyranny of the Downbeat

351

and Weathermen of the Sixties.
another dimension.

It just might give our show

Idealists fighting insurmountable odds.

Jeeps and bows and arrows against helicopters and semi-automatic
weapons."
--Walsh

"David and Goliath."

--Elliot
effective.

"It would be emotional and it could be very

Would they cooperate?"

--Devereaux
--Elliot

"Hard to say."

"Can they hurt us?"

--Western

"Even harder to tell."

--Elliot

"Can you meet with them?

I'd like to see if there's

any common ground."

Well, she's fashionably lean
And she's fashionably late
She'll never rake a scene
She'll never break a date
But she's no drag
Just watch the way she walks
She's a Twentieth Century Fox
She's a Twentieth Century Fox
She's the queen of cool
And she's the lady who waits
Since her mind left school
She never hesitates
She won't waste time on elementary talk
She's a Twentieth Century Fox
-- The Doors, "Twentieth Century Fox"
I wasn't prepared for what I encountered.

I don't mean the

location, which was in an old Wells Fargo way station in San
Andreas, but their leader.

As we talked, I found it difficult to

separate her reality from my fantasy.

I kept phasing in and out.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

352

Faysoux Starling is Duchamp-angular descending a staircase.
Her eyes are hypnotic.

(Bewitching, violet cat's eyes.

Hooded,

heavy-lidded arrogant angry eyes.)
Her mouth is large.

(A gaping bloody wound of vermilion

lips and lizard tongue held in a sneer.)
without blemish or break or crack.
comic-book perfect denture.
Her hair is jet black.
because it is more lethal.

They look like one continuous

She never smiles, only sneers.
Maybe blue-black.

Dyed I'm sure

It is razor short, running parallel

with the straight edge of her jaw.
the brows and into her eyes.

Her teeth are seamless,

The bangs hang long, below

(She could tease you from behind

them, peeking out seductively sideways or parting them and boring
straight into your eyes, smoldering with anger or passionate
heat.)

If you didn't look away you could be caught in her

widow's web, hypnotized by the unwavering steady stare.
She is not tall.

(She doesn't walk, she prowls, slinking

along walls, feeling the walls with her hands and shoulders.)
Her arms and legs are slender, faultless, pleasant.

(She

can stride, she can strut, she can slit you in two.)
Her skin is translucent alabaster opalescence.
goes out in the sun.

She never

And when she does, she wears long black

gloves and carries an umbrella.

(She has razor edges to her body

you want to be cut by, to lie bleeding there, to die.

Her

breasts are small; the breasts of a Catholic schoolgirl, enticing
in their innocence.

Excited, her nipples will slowly rise in

anticipation, upward turning, stretching, and straining their
pointed urgency piercing your bare chest.)

Tyranny of the Downbeat

353

Her finger-nails are scarlet claws she loves to slowly draw
against her forehead, drawing long, straight bangs out of her
eyes.

(Or slice along the inside of your thigh, tickling with

pain, in anticipation.
How does the song go?

She is dangerous.

And her men like that.

"If you like it now, you'll learn to love

it later.")
She wears black; a clinging second-skin mini-skirts over
leotards, black nylons, and patent leather shoes with ankle
wraps.

(An apache dancer.

A leotardess leaning forward on

elbows enticing with ass stuck high in the air.

A black siamese

cat in heat.

A cat, I mean.

A panther.

Perhaps she becomes one at night.

Stalking the streets at midnight murdering

unsuspecting sweat-scented sailors, then slipping back into your
bed without a sound.)
Did I say she is French?
Cajun, I think.

Deliciously, tantalizingly so.

(The accent, the way she tongues the words could

melt the silver on a rodeo rider's buckle.)
here.

There is no humor

Only business.
"We named The Brigade for John Muir.

leader.

He is the father of our movement.

environmental activism.
left us.

He is our spiritual
The father of

We do not all agree on the legacy he

We do agree on what he began."

"Who are we?"
"Our movement ranges from conservative groups like the
Sierra Club to radicals like 'Earth First!'."
"'No compromise in the defense of Mother Earth!'"
"You know of them."

Tyranny of the Downbeat

354

"I've done some reading.

Where do you fit in?"

"It will be hard to believe, perhaps.

We are more militant

than 'Earth First!'."
"Why can't you let the Sierra Club and some of the other
mainstream groups lead the battle?

You realize that violence is

going to compromise your effort?"
"They became soft.

They became what they beheld.

became what they once fought.
react.

They fight brush fires.

They
They

They no longer act."

"How are you and 'Earth First!' different from the Sierra
Club or the Environmental Defense Fund?"
"We have rejected science and technology.
rationalism for a love of nature.
the material.

We have abandoned

We accept the aesthetic, not

We allow Nature to exist for its own sake."

"Sounds semi-religious."
"Perhaps it is.

We are all connected.

Nature, you must be a part of it.

To understand

It can only be found in the

wilderness, not in science books."
"Where do you find your people?
"Many are college students.

Where do they come from?"

Disillusioned with the system.

Many more were recruited from the ranks of the California
Conservation Corps.

For them, the damage was personal.

lived it every day as they worked in the national parks.
have members of the Peace Corps.

They
We also

They have also witnessed the

crimes of corporate America across our borders."
"Who else?"
"Our compadres from 'La Raza.'

Those who tired of peaceful

Tyranny of the Downbeat

non-violence.
system.

355

The ones who grew weary of working within the

The ones whose heads were bloodied.

the pesticides.

The ones who breath

The ones whose children may one day have

cancer."
"Do you consider us an ally or an obstacle."
"We have little use for your slow-moving, ineffectual,
pedestrian techniques.
way.

We will pursue our own plans in our own

If we benefit each other, so be it.

But don't count on

it."
"So I guess dinner is out of the question?"
She smiles and the light glints.
It was her business not to compromise the movement.
she hadn't.

But she didn't mind compromising me.

And

I was real

easy, especially then.

We had Chinese, then I followed her back to her small house.
I waited while she parked her car.

As she walked toward me, I

could see her inside thigh muscles rippling.
mini-skirt just covered the minimum.

Nutcrackers.

Her

The streetlight shined

brightly between her legs.
It was her ass that moved me.

It sashayed, working against

the second skin of her skirt, sending off sparks of static sexual
electricity.

It might have been oversized for her body if it

weren't so perfectly shaped and tight.

Any man who saw it could

only dream of her before him, down on all fours, that lush and
luscious butt moving in circles, her face turned back and staring
with those eyes glazed over, like a cat's membrane eyes.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

356

Taunting, tempting, teasing, inviting, daring you to enter.
It was hot inside.
was oppressive.

Very hot.

Her skin was sizzling.

We couldn't breathe through the heat.

It

Her

nakedness wrapped within the loose garment, brushing lightly
against stiffening nipples.

Her kimono swayed open slightly, a

glimpse round and soft; the smooth line of a long leg ending in
dark curls.

She touched herself where my eyes rested, seductive

and beckoning.

Her eyes, heavy-lidded, seeing and not seeing;

her attitude influenced by emotion no longer rational.
sweating teeth were bared in orgasmic grin.

Her

Dusky, musk-scented,

dangling breasts and swaying hips, moved moistly with the music.
She lay on her back, face turned to the window hoping for a
breeze.

I stood over her, legs apart.

the drop plopped on her nipple.
an erotic water torture.

She shivery-flinched as

I held the ice high above her;

Tired, I stooped to lick salted sweat

from behind her knee, inside her elbow, at the back of her neck.
Sweet breath blew warm against my neck and the tide began to
rise.
She sensed pale fruit, scimitar-shaped and slender,
peeled back.

She cradled the cactus, watching the smooth purple

crown dilate and stretch and strain.

Uncontrolled spittle-speck

at the corners of her mouth, her tongue too stuck to bared teeth
to care.

My fingers slid in and out, along and around.

pressure continued to build.

She took a sip of ice water,

filling her mouth with crushed ice.
She filled her mouth with more water.
off mine.

The

She began slowly sucking.
She never took her eyes

Tyranny of the Downbeat

357

All I could think of was "psychogenic polydipsia."
Compulsive water drinking.

You drank until you died.

I hope she

suffered from it.
She was gone the next morning.
I took her message with me.

Reality is bad enough.
-- Patrick Sky

I was left with the fantasy.

But I don't remember what she said.

Why should I tell the truth?

Frank Cunha is a Portuguese rancher.
sweat-stained, beat-up Stetson hat.

He wears an old brown,

The creases in his

weather-beaten face, across his forehead and around his eyes, are
as deep as the cracked earth.
have lived on this land.

Four generations of his family

Now he has to leave.

of the reasons in the background.
and whistling explosions.
the San Joaquin River.

You can hear one

The crack of shotgun shells

His ranch lies between Masterson and

Bookended between toxic flows.

When the

wind blows his way, the stench is overwhelming.
Ambling in his sagging-butt Levi's and brown, rough-out Acme
cowboy boots, he points to where some of the water has percolated
onto his property and into his well.

After months of headaches,

upset stomachs, and nausea, he and his wife moved into town.
Most of his horses and cattle died.
anything for his property now.

He doubts he can get

And the local and state officials

laughed in his face when he asked them about compensation.

He

couldn't believe that they would turn their backs on him--a
veteran and a patriot.
There is a family living in a small central valley town who

Tyranny of the Downbeat

had eight girls.

Not unusual for a good Italian family

scratching out a living.
contracted cancer.

358

What is unusual is that seven

Six died.

One is in remission from leukemia.

Their father claims there is a cluster of cancer in his town.

A

chemical spokesperson said there was no hard scientific data to
support that there are cancer clusters in the valley.

The father

suggested that she should go to the hospital and hold the young
girl down when she screams out in pain from the leukemia
treatment.

He wants to know what makes her think there's no

reason to suspect cancer when the best scientific minds still
don't know what causes cancer.
County health officials traced them to their home--a
collection of holes dug into the side of a low, rolling hill.
Their youngest, a sixteen-month-old girl was dead.
cried.

For a long time.

They couldn't stop her.

know why she cried so much.

They had no money.

She had
They didn't

They were

migrant workers, once homeless street people, chased from the
city by violence and drugs.
they let her cry.

They couldn't pay for the doctor, so

Then she was dead.

The autopsy later revealed

it was leukemia.
When county public health officials interviewed the family,
they complained of headaches, nausea, and stomach problems.
Asked when the problems started, they thought, looked at one
another, and replied it was pretty soon after they arrived.
they eaten any tainted food or water?

Had

No, they'd eaten a few

ducks they'd snared from the wildlife refuge downslope.

And the

water they drank was from a well on the ranch where he worked

Tyranny of the Downbeat

part-time.

359

The foreman allowed him to take home a canvas

bag-full each day.
These three cases are but a few of the many similar cases
in the files of Dr. Donald Lazarus, a physician in Merced County.
He believes without a doubt that the last priority of public
health officials and the government is defining what the public
health consequences are, and will be, of what these agrichemical
companies and corporate combines are doing.

He feels there's a

public health problem here that's not being properly defined and
addressed.

And compounding the problem is the fact that public

health records are a "Bermuda Triangle"; a black hole of
non-information.

Records were never kept on the number and types

of cancers, or their possible causes.
There's a cover-up, he claims, because counties like his
want to attract new and more diversified industry.

They can't do

that if word gets out that the water is tainted and children are
dying of cancer.

Lazarus tells me how the health officer for the

county recently suggested that he use a little "creativity" in
interpreting his test results so the county could get a clean
bill of health.

Lazarus wanted to conduct more tests.

health official said no, finish the report.

The

Lazarus resigned.

As evidence, he points to a recently published study of
cancer rates in nine central valley counties.
no surprises and no answers.

Their findings:

Though it's considered "the most

accurate and comprehensive report ever produced on San Joaquin
Valley cancer," the study's director compared it to a "snapshot"
of cancer rates in one year.

He mutters that government

Tyranny of the Downbeat

360

officials are using statistics again to camouflage what is really
happening in the valley.
He points out that people are being exposed to toxins in
their food and water, or they're being hit by drifting
pesticides as they play or work.

The synergistic, or combined,

effect of all those exposures could very well be deadly.

The

problem is, we aren't testing for these kinds of combined
effects, nor do we know even where to begin.
"Pesticides were designed to have an adverse effect on
living, metabolizing organisms."
"In straight talk, they were designed to kill living things,
including humans?"
"Quite right.

There are both acute lethal doses and chronic

lethal doses for all chemicals.
body fat.

DDT kills by accumulating in

Organophosphates--pesticides--can kill almost

immediately, in the proper concentrations, by overloading the
nervous system.

Other pesticides, called fumigants, specifically

EDB=Ethylene Dibromide, causes testicular cancer in almost
100% of all cases exposed to it."
"Sterility?"
"Yes."
"How do these chemicals enter the body?"
"Chlorinated hydrocarbons can be absorbed into the body
through the lungs, the gastro-intestinal tract, or the skin."
"So you could even be contaminated while showering?"
"Very definitely.

Chlorinated solvents and pesticides can

be absorbed readily through the skin, yet bathing is rarely, if

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361

ever, taken into consideration when levels are set.

Since

volatiles evaporate quickly, one fifteen-minute shower can provide as
much chemical to the body as drinking eight glasses of
water.

Infants are especially vulnerable."

"Why's that?"
"Fetuses and children are at greatest risk because their
systems are working at full pace while growing and the chemicals
interfere with that process."
"What happens following exposure?"
"Like I said before, when absorbed into the body, some of
the chlorinated hydrocarbons are not metabolized rapidly, but are
stored in the fat."
"What are the symptoms of poisoning?"
"Regardless of type or route of exposure, the symptoms are
similar, but vary in severity.

Mild cases are characterized by

headache, dizziness, gastro-intestinal disturbances, numbness,
and weakness of the extremities, apprehension, and
hyperirritability."
"What about more severe cases?"
"Muscular fasciculations spreading from the head to the
extremities, followed eventually by spasms involving whole muscle
groups, leading finally to convulsions and death from cardiac or
respiratory arrest.

The severity really depends on the

concentration of toxins in the nervous system, especially the
brain."
"We've learned from asbestos that exposure may not show up
right away."

Tyranny of the Downbeat

"That's correct.

362

Short-term effects include dizziness,

nausea, a condition called 'pin-point pupils,' and severe skin
rashes.

Long-term might include sterility, cancer, and birth

defects."
"You were speaking of cancer clusters.

I'm sure you're

familiar with the cases of Matt Hazeltine and Bob Waters?
men who played football for the San Francisco 49ers?
died of ALS and Waters is suffering from the same.
Disease.

Two

Hazeltine
Lou Gehrig's

Both men practiced on a football field sprayed with a

fertilizer/pesticide containing cadmium, a heavy metal.

One is

dead and one is dying, some thirty years after exposure."
"That's how long it sometimes takes."
"But the symptoms could appear in a much shorter period of
time?"
"Yes.

In fact, another case again involves football.

Three

players for the New York Giants were diagnosed as having cancer.
One died.

The other two are receiving treatment."

"And the source of the problem?"
"The stadium in New Jersey where they practice and play was
built on the site of a former landfill."
"A landfill that was probably used for illegal dumping of
toxic waste?"
"Probably."
"I understand that a lot of cities are now adding chlorine
to their municipal water supplies to make the water safe to
drink.

Does it work?"

"Yes and no.

It purifies the water, yes.

But if there are

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363

any agriculturally produced materials in the water,

...

"

"Agriculturally produced materials?"
"Pesticides, herbicides, selenium, boron.
captured in the runoff from irrigation.

Any chemicals

They can combine with

the chlorine to produce potentially harmful substances like
trihalo methane."
"In one of my interviews, a spokesperson for the Western
Agricultural Chemicals Association assured me that the newer
pesticides break down rapidly and completely in water."
"They once said that about the earth, too."
"That person also said that people have absolutely nothing
to fear from the levels of pesticides in their food and water.
While one corporation's vice-president for engineering and
environmental affairs said there was no scientific evidence that
chemicals caused childhood cancer."
"So why is the Valley Children's Hospital's cancer ward
filled with children dying of leukemia?"
They don't know because they really don't know.

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364
CHAPTER 24

Years grow shorter not longer
More you've been on your own
Feelin's for moving grow stronger
So you wonder why you ever go home
Wonder why you ever go home
You wonder why you ever go home
People are moving so quickly
Humor's in need of repair
Same occupations and same obligations
They've really got nothin' to share
Like drivin' around with no spare
Years grow shorter not longer
More you've been on your own
Feelin's for moving grow stronger
So you wonder why you ever go home
Wonder why you ever go home
You wonder why you ever go home
-- Jimmy Buffett, "Wonder Why We Ever Go Home"
The corporate headquarters of the DiGiulio Winery straddles
a small, rolling knoll overlooking John Muir Creek.

The creek is

dry most of the year, but it still creates a very serene, pastoral
scene.

The building itself has been referred to, in jest and praise,

as "Parthenon West."

It is stately, if not overwhelming.

definitely out of place.

It is

But it satisfies the conqueror in its

owner.
The executive dining room is not overwhelming.
elegant and comfortable.

It is

It is here that heads of state and

multi-nationals, celebrities and Popes are dined and wined with
the latest vintage.

It is here that guests are lulled, by the

setting and the grape, into confessing or volunteering
information, under the gracious, but probing interrogation of
DiGiulio, or one of his lieutenants.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

365

When Laura received the invitation to lunch, she assumed it
was to discuss the international trade conference she had just
attended in Canada.

Much of what was discussed there would have

an impact on the DiGiulio operation.

She was sure all the

division heads would be there to charm the information from her.
She smiled at her own subliminal thought.

They were all men.

Not one woman executive in the entire company.
history.

Ever in its

I guess I've got them outnumbered.

Phil Seidemann, VP of Public Relations, met her at the
reception desk, situated near the entrance to the vaulted inner
court and the lush and lavish koi pond, and escorted her to the
dining room.

Everyone else had arrived and were enjoying a new-

release Pinot Noir.

She nodded hello to those she knew as she

was guided to the center table.
and motioned for her to sit.

Phil pulled out the center chair

Arrayed down both sides were

executives of varying title and importance.
head table was filled except one.

Every seat at the

The one directly across from

her.
She recognized the scene.
a few times before.
"passing lunch."

She had survived this gauntlet

It was an ordeal affectionately known as

Many would-be and current executives, as well

as consultants and heads of ad agencies, had been in this seat.
Some had passed.

Many had not.

This was where "the velvet fist"

of Robert DiGiulio could make your career or break you.
She really didn't expect a personal appearance from The
Padrone.

Oftentimes, the seat remained empty.

Part of the mind

game he played to soften up whoever sat sweating in that chair.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

366

A person might suffer through several unappetizing lunches, not
because the food was bad, but because their stomach was boiling,
in fear and dread anticipation of "the appearance."
Laura had sat through a handful of chaired lunches, because
she often had information he needed.

And apparently she had

something he wanted this time, as well.

Robert DiGiulio quietly

settled into his chair before the salad was served.
thought hit her.

A panicked

Perhaps he knew she had visited Elliot.

He poured her some wine.

Asked her how she liked it.

His

old world charm and grace releasing the tension; his Italianesque
English soothing.
Penetrating.

Then he began his questioning.

His eyes never wandered from hers.

about the conference.

Very precise.
They talked

Discussed tariffs and embargoes.

Reviewed

what it would mean to the wine grape industry.

It didn't take

long.

He tasted his

He knew exactly what he needed to know.

salad.

Took a sip of wine.

She relaxed.

That was the usual

signal that the session was over.
He caught her off guard.

"Laura, I understand you might be

involved in a project of some interest to me."
Her hand trembled slightly as she placed the wine glass on
the table.

Her voice was steady.

things now, as you know.

Some affect you.

He changed the subject.
and I were very close.

"I'm involved in a variety of
Some don't."

Never a good sign.

"Your Father

Did you know that, Laura?"

She nodded, but couldn't speak.
"Very close.

On more than one occasion, he was very helpful

to me and all that I have built here.

Just as you have been

Tyranny of the Downbeat

helpful.

367

I would like to keep it that way, wouldn't you?"

Her lips tightened.

She put her hands together in her lap

so he couldn't see them shake.
"I would also like to keep the memory of your Father and the
kind of man he was intact.
She leaned forward.

Without blemish, wouldn't you?"
Her anger at this man's words about her

Father overpowering her fear.
about my Father.

Maybe he did some things for you he shouldn't

have, I can't say.
man.

"Don't you ever talk that way

But he will always be known as a good, honest

You will never change that."
"Perhaps.

Perhaps not.

I hope we never have to find out.

It might embarrass your Mother.
sometime.

You might even ask her about it

She and I were once very close."

reaction he knew that would make.

Responding to the

"I guess you don't know

everything, do you?"
This time the conversation was over.

He picked up his wine,

swirled the glass, sniffed the aroma, smiled, put it down, and
quietly left the table.

Elliot, Walsh, and I were talking politics.

Generally

dangerous ground for people who were colleagues rather than close
friends.

But even friends can disagree on this turf, as I had

learned a number of times talking with Pat.
"Borba's an anomaly.

But he's also a weather-vane."

"Would you mind explaining that?"
"The Democrats are working class reformers.

They want to

create a better world for the most people, but they insist on

Tyranny of the Downbeat

368

doing it without the assistance of the elite and the wealthy.
And yet, they can't achieve the kind of radical change they'd
like without money.

So they've changed their tactics.

Now the

picture you get is this Democrat standing at the podium,
bad-mouthing special interests, while behind his back he's
holding out his hand to take money from the same PACs he's
condemning."
"Might make you a little schizophrenic."
"The dichotomy doesn't seem to bother them.
legitimized it by devising a new phrase for it.
it in a wonderfully confusing term.

They've even
They've clothed

They call it 'interest group

neoliberalism'."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"It means they've abandoned their tradition of liberal
constituencies and values, not for a better way to serve the
general good, but just to get close to the special interests and
get at their money."
We were talking politics because one of Borba's biggest
opponents had just offered his support to the project.
Stewart Grossman, congressman from Beverly Hills,
represented the interests of the well-intentioned and idealistic
rich of Southern California and the philanthropists of Long
Island; those with a tradition based in history, culture, and
religion of caring for the less fortunate.

The two things he

cared the most about were the environment and health care.

He

was especially vocal when it came to the care and confidentiality
of AIDS patients.

He was also a supporter of family planning and

Tyranny of the Downbeat

369

migrant health care.
A graduate of Stanford and Harvard, he did a short stint in
the Peace Corps before turning his legal skills to such unpopular
causes as the environment, the farmworkers strike, illegal
dumping of toxics, wild and scenic rivers, against the Peripheral
Canal and for Planned Parenthood's pro-choice position.

He was a

leader of the attempts to save the Estanislao, Lake Tahoe, and
Mono Lake.

Now, he's the current chairman of the House

subcommittee on water and power resources.
He, and a handful of like-minded liberals, controlled one of
the most powerful Democratic machines in the country, located in
the Beverly Wilshire Hotel at the foot of Rodeo Drive.

Their

machine ran on three things:

a power base in west LA, liberal

politics, and lots of money.

He was entrenched.

Like many of

the rest of the California delegation, there had been no serious
challengers to his seat for years.

And thanks to a little

incumbent gerrymandering and an unblemished electoral track
record, they had created a number of safe districts whose power
was also unassailable.
Their liberal politics were closer to New Deal Roosevelt
than New Frontier Johnson.

Grossman's machine existed to promote

liberal causes, whether it was supporting Israel ,or raising
money for the poor and for protection of the environment.
And then there was the money.

Plenty of it, courtesy of

their wealthy Jewish constituency and the entertainment industry.
Enough for themselves and enough to spread around to other
candidates to assure additional support and power.

He liked the

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370

political power his machine, or "coalition" as he preferred to
call it, gave him.
He and Borba had both called up to the big leagues at the
same time, representing the two valleys that ruled California:
the San Fernando and the San Joaquin.

And they had been going

head-to-head ever since.
The two men were very similar.

Neither liked to lose.

Nor

did they mind making a few enemies if it meant protecting the
right issues.

They were both ruthless in their impatience.

They

really didn't like each other and they certainly didn't trust the
other.

That's why there were bitter political enemies.

Plus the

fact that they were on a collision course to see one of them--and
only one--the future Speaker of the House.

One had built a

powerful PAC, the other an influential Machine, with this
ultimate goal in mind.
years.

They had danced around each other for

Now they would be locked in a battle that only one would

survive.
Elliot knew of him; had met him at various industry parties
and fund-raisers in L.A.
causes.

He had even contributed to some of his

They really didn't know each other.

never really discussed politics.

They certainly had

Now they were.

realized they felt the same about a lot of things.

And they
Farmworkers

and pesticide poisoning were issues that cut as close to home for
Grossman as any.

Especially when Borba was standing on the other

side of the line.

He was ready to back his commitment with time

and money.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

371

Not since those late nights in the apartment house on Fulton
Street, when Laura was still married and Sandy was about to be,
had they taken the time to just sit and talk.

They had been

friends now for a number of years, having first met through
Laura's sister while they both were still in college.
had spent a lot of summers and holidays together.

They

Then, when

they both moved to San Francisco--Laura to law school and Sandy
to work--they both moved into the Fulton building.
Francisco years lasted a few.

The San

Sandy married me, Laura separated.

Sandy stayed in the city, Laura returned to Ralston.
Maybe Sandy was feeling something in the air and she needed
reassurance; someone to listen.

But Laura was doing all the

talking.
"We had problems.
marriages do.

I'm not going to hide that fact.

But why he just left, I'll never know."

"There wasn't any warning?
"None.

Most

No clues?"

And if there were any, I ignored them.

believe we weren't having any troubles.

This isn't the first

time I've talked, or thought about it, either.

I've played it

over and over again in my mind, looking for reasons.
Sunday afternoon.

It was a

I was reading the Chronicle and he was

wandering around the house.
something was wrong.
even look at me.

I wanted to

Finally, he sat down.

He played with his coffee cup.

I could tell
He wouldn't

Then he mumbled this torrent of words, like

he'd been holding it back for years.
There's nothing to talk about.

'We've got problems.

Nothing you can do.

want to be married to you anymore.

I just don't

I'm leaving today, this

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372

afternoon.'"
"That was it?"
"I felt like I'd just been kicked in the stomach.

He got up

and I couldn't move."
"And he was gone?"
"I blamed myself.

I tried to find all the things I might

have done that would have forced him to leave.
myself up.

I felt like dirt.

I really beat

Then, once I felt strong enough to

start dating again, I punished myself by going out with real
losers.

It was very ugly."

"That really scares me because I don't have a fraction of
the confidence you have."
"I've perfected that cover.
The rejection really hurt.
His indifference.
shared anything.

But you know what cut the deepest?

It was like we never lived together, never
He was so coldly indifferent."

"Did you see someone?
"Certainly.

But it didn't help me much.

Did they have any ideas?"

One counselor attributed it to panic.

His

father had married young and had a large family right away.

He

had planned to go to college, but had to give it up to support
his family.

He always regretted that decision and probably held

it against his wife all those years.
He could have done well.

He was an intelligent man.

He could have been something more than

an insurance salesman, which is what he became.
to be something had been taken away.
life frustrated and unfulfilled.

His one chance

He lived the rest of his

He never said anything, but his

wife sensed it and so did the kids, especially my John, who was

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373

the oldest."
"So, what did that have to do with his leaving?"
"The counselor said that one day John probably realized that
what was happening to him was the same thing that had happened to
his dad.

That he was living a life of compromise; a life he

didn't want to live.

So he panicked and ran.

For himself and

his father."
"Did the two of you ever talk about it?

Try to change

things?"
"Not really.
feelings.

Men aren't too good about discussing their

Despite what we women have done to liberate them."

They smile at what they both realize is part of the problem
and part of the solution.
"So, by the time he decided to leave, he had convinced
himself that communicating his desperation wouldn't help,
wouldn't change anything."
"Maybe he just didn't want to look that closely at himself
and how he felt?"
"I really think that was part of it.

Being the oldest, the

burden was on him to take care of the others; to be the one in
control.

Feelings only got in the way.

distractions.

They were unnecessary

It was easier to ignore them and get on with life.

But, again, I blamed myself because he didn't feel comfortable
enough to talk with me about what he was going through."
"Did he ever talk to a counselor before or after?
ever understand why he left?"
"Not that I know of."

Did he

Tyranny of the Downbeat

374

"So it's possible he could do the same thing again?

That he

could make the same mistakes again?"
"And blame it on the woman again."
"I think we've taken the 'disposable society' a little too
far, don't you?

It's becoming as easy to dispose of a mate as it

is to discard a can."
"I don't think people can be recycled as easily."
"There are a lot of damaged people out there right now.
They look fine on the outside, but once you try to get close,
they act like you've pulled a knife on them.

They can't back up

fast enough."
"Why so curious about my ex?

Do you think that's what

Travis is feeling?"
"I don't know.

He's certainly capable of it.

You know how

much he hates confrontation."
"Are you at least talking about it?"
"We're trying.

But there's a lot of anger."

"That's a defense."
"I know that.

But I guess it's just easier to break loose

if you convince yourself you really don't care."
"But you seem to have the perfect marriage.
you still care about each other.
you down.

He touches you.

You look like
He doesn't put

He even cooks and does the housework."

"That shows how little people really know.
the surface.
bedroom door."

All you see is

You see the smiles, but you can't see behind the

Tyranny of the Downbeat

As part of his ritualistic, month's-end file purge, Stephan
Harrington ran this series of observations; his attempt at "three
dot journalism".
ALTA CALIFORNIA
----------------------------------------------------------------WHAT'S NEW IN THE WAR?
A grab-bag of water politics
By Stephan Harrington
OF THE RECORD STAFF
Where's the Dirt?
Everyone's got a little dirt under their fingernails, even
our eldest senator, the leading liberal in the Senate.
Here's a man who has battled vested interests, fought for
the rights of the disenfranchised, staked his reputation on
unpopular causes, and what has he done? He has teamed up with
the rest of the ag and water lobby to get more water for the
biggest factory farmers in the state; the ones that have made no
attempt to hide the fact that they are way over the acreage
limit.
Basically, he has used his power and influence to legalize
the illegal: to sell more subsidized water to the factory farms.
The sad thing is that it is water that should be going to
the small farmer who was supposed to get it in the first place
and who has the legal right to it.
By taking the water, he's denying the people he supposedly
champions, their right to make a living.
Did You Say What I Thought You Said?
A couple near Masterson presented data to federal officials
long before they filed a complaint with the State Water Resources
Control Board. They were sure a terrible mistake had been made
on the potential effects of the agricultural runoff draining into
the refuge.
When they were told to keep quiet, or it would cost them
more than their ranch was worth, they had their first inkling
that this problem may have been what one California congressman
called a planned accident.
The Real Bottom Line
Here's the real bottom line on ground water contamination.

375

Tyranny of the Downbeat

376

Most of you "experts" just don't know what is going on.
They say the selenium problem at Masterson is a dead issue.
That there is no contamination in the ground water below the
refuge.
Certainly there isn't. That's because it has moved on and
into the aquifer. Water flows you know.
We can see it in your eyes and hear it in your words.
You're scared. You fear the worst. Many of you believe, but
will not go on record to say that in the next decade we will
begin to see the first of the real catastrophes.
Compared to what's coming, "Love Canal" and "Bhopal" will
look like walks in the park.
Some dance to remember, some dance to forget.
So I called up the captain: "Please bring me my wine."
He said, "We haven't had that spirit here since 1969."
And still the voices are calling from far away;
Wake you up in the middle of the night just to hear them say:
"Welcome to the Hotel California.
Such a lovely place, (such a lovely place) such a lovely face.
They livin' it up at the Hotel California.
What a nice surprise, (what a nice surprise) bring your alibis."
-- Don Felder, Don Henley, & Glenn Frey, "Hotel California"
Canadian-born forty-two years ago, but now stars and bars
through and through, Dewey Palmer was in search of the latest
cause.

He had been a part of the "No Nukes" MUSE (Musicians

Against Nuclear War) concert.

He had performed for Amnesty

International and helped organize "Farm Aid."
He had always been active, always been involved, always been
aware.

At least one song on every album he'd done since going

solo had a message, whether it was against drugs or against
musicians selling their art to the highest bidder.

And when he

decided to become part of a group again, with his old band-mate
Stephen Young, their band became the political, activist voice of
the Woodstock generation.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

377

As with everything, especially in the music business, timing
was everything.

And, coincidentally, Elliot needed another

highly visible, highly influential supporter.
audience might listen to.
different angle.

Someone a younger

Someone who could attack from a

Through the radio and on record.

It was a

natural alliance, especially since Dewey was now living and
recording down the San Francisco Peninsula, near La Honda.
Whenever an interviewer catches up with him to do a session,
it's usually rolling down the road in one of his restored
hearses, which is where I found myself at the moment, doing a
little front-end for Elliot.

We were talking about monkeys and

selling out.
"Would you sing for a product?"
"No fucking way.

I mean, that's the line I will not cross.

It's nothing more than singing for money."
"Why have you become so active lately?

Other than Woodstock, I

don't remember you being particularly political."
"I never stopped doing stuff.

Most people never saw it.

But, recently it's because of the excess.
traded ideals for bucks.

And that bugs me.

If you ask me, we've
Whether it's drugs

or dollars, any monkey that's bigger than you are, I'm ready to
take to the floor."
"What does your audience think about this outspoken
attitude?"
"I don't know.

I've got a lot of audiences now.

me as an old hippie still trying to play folk music."
"Like your record company."

Some see

Tyranny of the Downbeat

"Like my past record company.

378

My newer audiences, I think,

or at least hope, see me as someone who cares about where we're
going.
future.

I think it's important that we take charge of our own
I'm not talking communes.

community.

I'm talking family and

We've got to stop relying on the feds and the state

to keep an eye out for us because it ain't gonna happen."
"Why you?

There are plenty of other political musicians and

bands out there?"
"I've always felt that I was singled out to make things
happen.

That I was in the right place at the right time.

And I

feel that way about what I understand Elliot Lincoln's trying to
do."
"We're taking on some pretty heavy hitters.

Do you think

we've got a chance?"
"I think you've got to be aggressive.
the high ground.

You've got to take

If you don't, then you're trying to bargain and

persuade from a position of weakness.

And that's never worked."

"What do you think of collaborating with Elliot?"
"I've always been fascinated by his films.
pure storytelling.

The creation of new myths.

By his return to
I even stole an

idea for a character or two from one of his movies for one of my
road shows."
"How much do you think you have in common?"
"He and I cross paths in a lot of ways, but especially one.
We're both intrigued and repelled by machines and computers and
the thought that they may take over our lives.

It bothers me

that people think they can live their life by pressing buttons.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

That they can talk to people using computer voices.

379

We both need

machines to do our work, but we won't let them run our lives."

Tyranny of the Downbeat

380
CHAPTER 25

I am a child
I last a while
You can't conceive
Of the pleasure
In my smile
You hold my hand
Rough up my hair
It's lots of fun
To have you there
I gave to you
Now you give to me
I'd like to know
What you've learned
The sky is blue
And so is the sea
What is the color
When black is brown?
What is the color
Of the rain?
You are a man
You understand
You pick me
And you lay me
Down again
You make the rules
You say what's fair
It's lots of fun
To have you there
I am a child
I last a while
You can't conceive
Of the pleasure
In my smile
-- Neil Young, "I Am A Child"
When Elliot and Dewey finally met, they liked each other
immediately.

For two people who had become very successful in

two separate branches of the entertainment business, they were
understandably wary of anyone, and of one another.

They had both

Tyranny of the Downbeat

381

been taken advantage of, had been lied to, had seen their visions
compromised by the deal-makers and marketing mavens.

But now

that they were both hugely successful and independent, they could
follow their muse and tell the rest of the parasites to kiss
their asses.

They were both artists with a vision that had

weathered the lashings of commercialism.
each other and appreciated it.

They recognized it in

The bonding created by this

common experience was immediate and soon ran very deep.
As they talked, they found yet another chord that struck
responsive and profound.

Unlike Elliot, Dewey was a father.

had two children, both boys.

And both had cerebral palsy.

He
Of

course, Dewey and his wife had been devastated each time and had
spent a lot of time and money working with their sons and working
with specialists and private schools to seek a cure.
It was difficult, but they never gave up trying to bring
some joy and enthusiasm into the lives of children who spent most
of their days frustrated when their active and healthy minds were
thwarted by the dead shell they inhabited.

Dewey was always

available to perform at benefits, even to cook pancakes at an art
fair held annually by a local volunteer fire department.
Anything to raise funds and lighten the guilt and anger he felt.
Something Elliot knew about.
Dewey blamed himself because he was the common denominator.
Each son was the child of different mothers.

So the lives of

quiet desperation his sons were living had to be his fault and
his alone.

He had seen the specialists, been probed and

punctured, but they had found nothing.

The doctors told him

Tyranny of the Downbeat

382

there was no explanation, no rational reason.
what caused it.

No way to tell

That it really had nothing to do with anything.

Which was hard to accept considering there was so much, and yet
so little, in this world that couldn't be explained
scientifically.
For a long time following the birth of his second son, Dewey
performed less.

He didn't totally abandon his music, but he

chose to spend more time with the family.

During that time, he

began to recognize the inter-connectedness of it all, the entire
planet, and its people.

He felt the need to believe, to care, to

promote our common humanity.

That's when he hooked up with

Amnesty International and "Farm Aid".

He realized then that it

was up to the individual, the family, and the community to come
together and take care of themselves at the local level.
As he spent more time with Elliot, he knew it was the
absolute truth.
phrase:

Because the attitude that once hatched the

"What's good for General Motors is good for the

country!" had re-surfaced and seemed stronger than ever, though
it probably had never really disappeared.
And now that he's discussed Elliot's sterility and what
caused it, Dewey began to wonder if maybe there wasn't some kind
of connection.

Perhaps he too had been exposed to something

during his childhood in Canada, in the streets of Los Angeles, or
in the hills of Northern California; something that had grown
inside him over the years and had spawned a bad seed that
deprived his children of an active, productive life.

Here were

two men, one who couldn't have children and one who could and

Tyranny of the Downbeat

383

did, who were linked forever by the real possibility that someone
they didn't know had knowingly and without remorse polluted the
water they drank and the environment they lived in simply for
profit.
Dewey and Elliot were linked in yet another way; one that
would affect their lives immediately and likely for years to
come.

They were both fatalists.

They both had commented many

times since meeting that their paths were meant to cross.

And

they both felt they had been singled out, that all of their life
experiences to this point, were orchestrated and building to an
unknown cataclysm, an unforeseen climax.

They both spoke of

overcoming obstacles, of believing, of turning the negative into
the positive, of experiencing a sense of destiny.

They both

sensed that they were now on that path, embarked on that journey,
that would reveal their fate.
Dewey was no novice when it came to film and video, or
propaganda and the manipulation of media.

Early in his solo

career, he had experimented with visual montages and anthologies
for his songs.

He had even affectionately lampooned some

characters from Elliot's first really successful movie.

He had

already produced two of his own films when he became fascinated
with the new electronic technologies assaulting both music and
the motion media.

He produced an entire album of electronically

manipulated songs and themes, and then produced his own road
picture; a rough-edged chronicle of video verite.
Dewey Palmer would write and perform the soundtrack for the
documentary.

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384

Stephan Harrington had first met Len Maddox when Maddox won
the congressional seat in Fresno.

He had campaigned for all the

"right" issues; all the issues supported by the local power
structure:

more water subsidies, agriculture subsidies, tariffs

against foreign imports, and relaxed environmental standards for
pesticides and water pollution.

He had served for two years,

expanding his own power base and consolidating control for the
Westlands Water and Power League.
Then, one day, he suddenly changed his views.

He softened.

He stopped backing most of the issues he had previously
supported.
meet.

That was the second time he'd invited Harrington to

Maddox had just had a heart attack.

his age.

Too early for a man

While he was in the hospital, he began evaluating his

life and his accomplishments.

He started questioning his

priorities.

He found he didn't really like himself as a

politician.

So he decided to change things in the two years he

had left in his term.

The man who had once been John Borba's

strongest ally--who had handled Borba's bid for majority
whip--had now turned on everything he and Borba had fought to
achieve.
That was over a year ago.

In the time since, he'd angered

and alienated almost all the members of the League.

He had

pushed hard to reduce the acreage limit for subsidized water.
He had succeeded in stopping bills to authorize more unnecessary
dams; dams that would destroy the few remaining wild rivers and
would create holding ponds for water only the rich farmers would

Tyranny of the Downbeat

get.

385

But he'd been toughest on the polluters.

He seemed

determined to single-handedly clean up the drinking water in his
district.

No matter who it implicated.

No matter who suffered.

And, invariably, it was the League and the big farmers that took
the

heat.

And they, in turn, spent money and time trying to

undermine his power.

They even tried to get him recalled.

But

his constituency had rallied behind him.
Then the threats began.
family.

He had been threatened and so had his

He'd even been run off the road one day.

When he had the

DMV trace the plate, he found out it belonged to a small
rancher who sold his cotton to the League.

That's when he called

Harrington again, to give him an exclusive interview.
asked that it be kept confidential.
himself and his family.

He had begun to worry for

More for his family.

had resigned him to his own mortality.

His heart attack

But his family was young.

He wanted people to pay if anything happened to them.
named names in the interview.

Maddox

So he

And he asked Harrington to vault

the tape until it was time to let the other shoe drop.
Now he was dead.

Harrington had to admit the bastards had

an ironic sense of humor.

Maddox had drowned, or been drowned,

in his own swimming pool.

The coroner explained to

Harrington--and to me, since Stephan had called, thinking I might
be mildly interested--that it looked like an accident.
"A lot of alcohol in his body.
Literally falling down drunk.
pool."
"Sure it was an accident?"

Way past tolerance.

Hit his head and rolled into the

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386

"Very professional murder if not.

Very well orchestrated."

"But possible?"
"Sure.

Anything's possible."

Maddox was an obstacle that had to be removed.
stopped the flow of water.

He had blown their cover.

farmers were like addicts, he said.
and didn't even know it.
robbery.

He had
The

They were self-destructing

They had been getting away with

The biggest growers in the state; with the help of the

BuRec and the Army Corps.
almost nothing.

They were getting all the water for

There was too much money involved to even think

about regulation.

And anyone who mentioned it, even if he was a

highly visible and outspoken politician, was a threat.
Now, he was the first casualty of the war for water.
Harrington's confidential interviews were mine.

And, had Elliot

been there, he would have related it to his own reality; to
something in the movies, like he always did.

He'd say it was

like something out of 'Chinatown.'

96

OUTSIDE MORGUE

Gittes stops by a body on the table, the toe tagged with Mulwray's
name. MORTY is standing near it in a doorway to an adjoining room.
A RADIO is on, and with it the announcement that they're about to
have another chapter in the life of Lorenzo Jones and his devoted
wife, Belle. Another Coroner's assistant sits at the table,
listening to the radio and eating a sandwich.
97

Gittes ambles into the room.
MORTY
(a cigarette dangling out of
his mouth)
Jake, what're you doin' here?

Tyranny of the Downbeat

387

GITTES
Nothin', Morty, it's my lunch hour, I thought
I'd drop by and see who died lately.
Gittes picks up the sheet and pulls it back. CAMERA GETS ITS FIRST
GLIMPSE of Mulwray's body -- eyes open, the face badly cut and
bruised.
MORTY
Yeah? Ain't that something? Middle of a
drought, the water commissioner drowns -only in L.A.
Politics everywhere, but especially in a continental and wired
nation, is part theater, an art of communication with gestures.
-- George Will/Commentary, "Television and the Image Tuners"

GRAPHIC DESIGN AND LAYOUT WILL CLEARLY IDENTIFY THIS SECTION AS A
SCENARIO DESIGNED BY THE INSTITUTE. IT MAY BE DESIGNED AS STORYBOARD
OR COMIC BOOK PANELS.
The Fractus screens dance with disparate images.

The

engineer is umbilicalled to the engine through Sony headphones.

He

watches perfect leaders marketed to the masses, consumers wired to
electronic fireplaces, newscasters emoting entertainment as news, and
men in shadows, men in flames.

He videolas through the encyclopedia

of images, re-editing, and refining a potential
future scenario.
SCENARIO:
CLIENT:
ENGINEER:
STATUS:
CLASSIFICATION:
DATE:
TRT:
WORKING TITLE:

#880808
INTERNAL
D. DOLAN
IN-PROGRESS
PRIORITY
08/08/88
TBD
"THE ENGINE OF CHANGE"

SCENARIO OUTLINE:
It is the Fall of 1991. The world is in a state of flux. The power
elite of all nations is beginning to sense that real social change is

Tyranny of the Downbeat

388

about to take place.
A group of visionary terrorists determines to use the power of
the electronic media to alert the American public to dangers posed by
the existing economic/political power structure. They
choose the 1992 Presidential election as their electronic platform.
During that event, they plan to take control of the
nation's airwaves.
For some time now, there has been paranoid speculations about the
possibility--ever since business and government began dealing
with each other. The connection between economic and political
elites. The military-industrial complex. The influence of the
corporate-military matrix. People have long speculated about the
notion of a select group of privileged men orchestrating events
around the world to benefit and consolidate their own power and
wealth. Writers, reporters, philosophers, scientists, and
academicians had all seen interconnections and intimacies that
led to coups and revolutions.
Combined with this specter of the power elite is another
Twentieth Century phenomenon that has become very real. The
Global Village. With every home wired to a telecommunication
grid, many have begun waving the Orwellian flag anew, claiming
that it is now far easier, and more effective, to control opinions
and populations. For these people--and their numbers
are growing--manipulating the media means controlling the public.
With more avenues of access to information available through
mass media, especially electronic media, and with the advent of
narrow-casting, there is a trend toward demassification and media
specialization. The result is sometimes confusing, oftentimes
conflicting views, and a fracturing of public opinion; a strict
segmentation of philosophies.
Into this void steps what one commentator terms "the most important
institutional innovation in recent American politics".
The Political Action Committee, or PAC. The PACs, with the aid
of the electronic media, have assumed the responsibility once
played by the political parties, that of informing and motivating
the voting public.
In these last years of the Twentieth Century, the primary means of
communication, whether used for commerce or politics, is controlled
by a wealthy and powerful interconnection of corporations and
government officials. And their conspiracy is
being masked by, and controlled through, equally influential PACs.
In this world, in this time, the established civic, social,
political, and economic elite is the recognized Order of Things.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

389

Electronic media, especially television, has made markets and
money for people in business and government. It has given these same
people unprecedented power and influence. And they use this control
and wealth to manipulate the system and perpetuate their own
predominance. Because they realize that this network of
teleconnections is vulnerable and could be used against them, they
take steps to prepare the tools and resources to short-circuit any
attempt to broadcast something other than the party line, or to
topple them from their position of control.
In this society, the integration of television and telecommunication
technologies has created a consumer society
without precedent and without parallel. Entertainment and
commerce are interchangeable and are the primary focus in the
lives of the majority of the nation's citizens.
In this time, television has created markets and unimaginable
fortunes for the elite of government and commerce. It has given
The Order the influence and access to assure its position no matter
who holds official power.
The Order owns the hardware of telecommunication, defines its
uses, and reaps great wealth from the avenues of influence it
offers the corporate/political matrix of the nation. The Order
has grown accustomed to the luxury of buying technological access
to the nation and using it as a one-way conduit of impressions,
images, and pseudo-information.
To The Order, telecommunications, in all its forms, is their prize
and their means of self-preservation. That is why the
window on the world presented by television provides such a
limited vision of the world.
A significant, and potentially dangerous, aspect of the rise of
electronic media is the power of The Order to present citizens with
their own picture of the world. To create perceptions that
sometimes go counter to firsthand experience, yet supersede it in
people's minds. The Order has designed and perpetuated this. Far
better, they think, that the public confuse images with
truth.
Though the world is on the brink of transformation, the
representations of reality by the political and marketing elites
become even more rigidly and narrowly defined. The Order perceives
change as a mechanism of marketing to stimulate profits, not as a
process of social evolution.
In reality, electronic media is a secondhand form of
communication. That is both its appeal and its danger.

What

Tyranny of the Downbeat

390

people see and hear has already been perceived, interpreted,
translated, packaged, and re-transmitted by someone else, as
objectively as they can manage, with as few of their own biases
and prejudices as possible. But it is, nonetheless, someone
else's view of the world. And the majority of the public takes
it as reality. Because reality is what we perceive.
It has been rumored by some experts and analysts that the
existence of certain political movements, or martyrs, continents
away may be nothing more than electronic fabrications, like the
shadows on Plato's cave walls. For all the media participant
knows, because he is not experiencing their existence directly,
these philosophies and people are a reality because that is what
they believe they are perceiving as they passively participate in
world events comfortably encased in their armchair.
There exists a group of men and women who work hard at blurring the
line between real and perceived. They are the professional image
manipulators. They sell canned foods as well as they sell
predictable Presidents. They clearly understand the capabilities and
powers of the electronic arts, including video and computers,
telecommunications, and marketing. Their imagination and skill
create the images of the marketplace, the political arena, and the
social-civic orders. Utilizing leading edge technologies, they
process, edit and link together fragmented ideas, places, and things
into common perception.
They sift through the daily avalanche of "information" in search of
any facts that might link disparate events into continuity. They
represent a spectrum of experience, talent, imagination, and command
of their respective crafts at the leading edge. The power elite pays
them well to target the public's perception of reality and create
images to cater to that perception.
Their first-hand knowledge of creating and projecting images
and ideas in a technologically complex society gives them a special
vision of The Order and the powers used to shape the
opinions and emotions of a people. They recognize that The Order
has long abused the privileges of their wealth and has used these
electronic tools and images to achieve narrow and selfish motives.
In a world in dire need of leaders capable of perceiving the motives
and emotions below the surface and outline of events, it
is a tragic paradox that the two-dimensional vision of The Order
commands the equipment, finances, and implementation of such a
powerful tool.
In spite of the short-comings inherent in the "packaging" of news and
information, certain telejournalists begin to enjoy a credibility
that the populace has rarely granted to other spheres

Tyranny of the Downbeat

391

of influence within the society. Though this network of continental
teleconnections is a selfishly manipulated giant of
social and economic influence, it is vulnerable.
The Order understands, and fears, the power of the electronic
media and its popular personae. In an information-rich and
-addicted society, the news and its telecommentary might be used
against The Order, should the attitudes of these popular
telejournalists come to resonate, or reflect, the aspirations of
the populace.
In anticipation, The Order has readied avenues to by-pass the
interpretive processes of the fourth estate should the need arise.
They have special knowledge of the tools they will need
to keep their image of the nation in place. They will be ready
with any means to short-circuit the channels of information access to
their advantage.
BREAK POINT IN SCENARIO.
It gradually becomes clear to this group of common conscience, that
only through their own imagination and special knowledge of
these tools, and their ability to recognize new purposes for them,
can there be any hope of deflecting the momentum and
dethroning the power of The Order. These individuals also share
a perception of the possibilities and dangers the telecommunications
matrix might offer to a specific message at a
critical juncture.
This committed group of diverse, yet commonly inspired individuals,
join purposes to become "The Info-Visionaries".
They band together to weld the technologies of communication,
computers, and video into a new tool; one capable of piercing the
veil of shallow perception that controls, in many subtle ways,
the scale of imagination for a people.
Many special pieces of information and equipment are gradually
combined into the working schematic of a revolution in perception.
As the pen proved mightier than the sword for
generations previous, an event of real time images and
imagination will rise above the existing Babel of
Telecommunications.
The Info-Visionists will create a resonance between the power of
ideas and images and use that synergy to trigger the imagination
and vision of a nation.
The Info-Visionaries realize, despite the intimations and
accusations of a shadowy puppetmaster organization, that in a
democracy, public opinion is still the most powerful force. To

Tyranny of the Downbeat

392

mobilize the power of the people and bring it to bear on one issue,
they have to use their own skills, and those of people
like the image-makers.
In the end, victory for the Info-Visionists and the power of
human imagination will be measured by a people's ability to
recognize, and step back from, the "electronic hall of mirrors"
they have come to look upon as truth. In a time of change, in a
time of confusion, it will take one voice to pierce the veil of
shadows.
BREAK POINT IN SCENARIO.
As is the case with many of the technologies which have changed
the workings of this world over the last quarter century, the
application of scientific research to war and defense strategies
has opened unimagined avenues for the development of new processes
and innovations.
Defense researchers become aware of a nuclear blast effect
called the "Electromagnetic Pulse," or EMP. EMP soon becomes the
ultimate threat to effectively waging technologically intense
warfare because a single nuclear burst could neutralize much of
the computer and telecommunication matrix our defense system and
economic order depends upon.
In the process of developing a technique to shield this delicate
electronic dependence, researchers discover an effect which becomes
known as the "Pulsed/Polarity Inversion Threshold," or PULPIT.
The power of this unique discovery resides in the fact that at a
certain signal threshold, a waveform could be propagated which
could dampen and neutralize all radio, television, and radar
signals within an effective radius of one thousand miles. If
located properly, it could affect three quarters of the continental
United States. At the same time that it suppresses
any and all signals within its sphere of influence, the PULPIT
waveform could also act as a universal open channel to all
receivers for any transmission coupled to it.
BREAK POINT IN SCENARIO.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

393
CHAPTER 26

I used to see you on every T.V.
Your smiling face looked back at me.
Then they caught you with the girl next door,
People's money piled on the floor,
Accusations that you try to deny,
Revelations and rumors begin to fly.
You wake up in the middle of the night.
Your sheets are wet and your face is white.
You tried to make a good thing last,
How could something so good, go bad, so fast?
American dream, American dream.
American dream, American dream.
-- Neil Young, "American Dream"
John Anthony Borba shared an affliction with many of his
fellow Democrats.

Unlike the Republicans, who always seemed to

get into trouble over money or abuse of power, the Democrats
always became ensnared because of women.

Like many of his

compatriots on Capitol Hill, Borba was a hopeless womanizer.
was obsessed with their pursuit.

He

This preoccupation had often

been attributed to men with immense egos; men who enjoyed living
on the edge and boys who were frustrated race-car drivers.
Perhaps it was the search for adventure; a way out of boredom or
an escape from routine that drew them to the flame.

Or maybe

they simply enjoyed the attentive applause of women.
Whatever the initial attraction, it was perpetuated by ego,
power, pride, and discretion.

At first, such men were protected

from embarrassing exposure by their staff.

The more they were

able to succeed without detection, the more daring they became.
The transition from tentative experimentation with the unknown to
blatant disregard of conventional behavior was very swift and

Tyranny of the Downbeat

often undetectable.

394

Before long, emboldened by their success and

sheltered from the whispers, they began to consider themselves
invincible, sexual supermen, above the law.

Their hubris, their

sense of self, became overwhelming and, eventually, became their
downfall.
In Borba's case, the applause was flattering, but the
conquest was the name of the game.
arrogant and full of himself.
him.

When it came to women, he was

He felt they were there to serve

He tolerated little independence, except in his wife who

had painfully carved it out for herself.
dangle; to twist in the wind emotionally.
them, to lead them on, then leave.

He loved to let them
He liked to play with

This disdain, coupled with

his power and influence, made him irresistible.

Even to his

wife, who loved him still--and who, rumor suggested, had been
subjected to more than emotional abuse--silently suffered and
helplessly hoped he might soon stop, or at least wouldn't
irreparably scandalize himself before he did.
The number of notches on Borba's bed was known only to his
closest aides.

There was one he preferred to forget, not because

it was unpleasant, but because it was one that had started as a
result of business and now couldn't go away because of business.
Affairs were one thing.

Affairs with co-workers another.

Affairs with clients, something to be completely avoided.

But

the timing had all been in Tony's favor and against Laura.
was willing, rebounding from divorce, ragged and ready.
able.

She

He was

It had begun following a week of hearings in Sacramento.

They had worked closely for the month prior, then spent almost

Tyranny of the Downbeat

395

fourteen hours per day together for a solid week.
exhausted.

She was lonely.

They were

He was horny.

The night the hearings ended, they had a quiet dinner at the
Sutter Club.

They laughed in relief of the pressure and the fact

they actually enjoyed each other's company outside the office.
For a while, they seemed to have gotten beyond the masks each
presented the other.

And they liked what they saw.

When they

returned to her room, she invited him in for a brandy.
gratefully accepted.

He

The grueling week and the wine were

beginning to take effect.

They slumped down at opposite ends of

the couch and began talking about future plans.

Each time one or

the other got up to get another glass or open a window, they sat
down nearer to the other.
looser.

As they got closer, their clothes got

He touched her arm, she touched his face.

The next morning, as they gathered up the debris of the
night and prepared to carry on with their routine, there were no
apologies, no remorse.
see one another.

They still liked each other and wanted to

And so they did.

Sacramento, D.C., and New York.
calling.

For six months.

In Ralston,

Until he suddenly stopped

When she finally confronted him, he just told her he

couldn't see her anymore.
of story.

No explanations.

It wasn't that hard for her.

No apologies.

End

She was already

beginning to dislike a lot of what she saw.

They ended it with

no regrets and some additional knowledge of the other.
Women.

Mysterious, exotic, deadly.

You could live a

lifetime in their eyes, or die broken, still anxiously trying to
please them.

In the mythologies of civilizations, they

Tyranny of the Downbeat

396

represented the totality of could be known.
himself the hero who would come to know.

Each man fancied

Seductive, exotic

sirens, they beckoned, urging you to break the bonds of the
day-to-day, the expected, in anticipation of the unknown; to
undergo another trial along the trackless journey.
Musing on this, John Anthony rationally knew the risks-realized the threats--but remained furiously attracted
nonetheless to the forbidden.
assistant to Daedalus.

She worked at Carver Labs;

He was there because DiGiulio wanted him

to be; he needed some background for one of his press releases.
She was happy to give him what he needed.
business.

Their meeting was all

The single drink afterwards was justifiably a way to

get to know the other better.

But to leave together would be

stepping over the line, crossing the threshold.
risk?

Was it worth the

Was it ever?
Barbra Sue Darwin was a woman of syrupy beauty; languid

golden honey.
wake.

She moved slowly and sweetly; a sticky odor in her

Lounging, languorous, she was a Renoir crossed with a

Helmut Newton model.
sensual.

Her body was smooth, voluptual, earthy,

And her liquid was made sweeter by the melodic South

Carolina accent that oozed out of her rounded lips.
with it and had made it more affected over the years.

She was born
It matched

well with her lethargic sensuality.
She was neither short nor tall and certainly not dumpy.
Ample, but not wasteful.
but solid.

Solid.

An Amazon.

She was full-bodied

Her breasts were large, full, heavy, brimming with

unselfish love and waiting to suckle.

Beneath a nylon bathing

Tyranny of the Downbeat

397

suit, stretching her arms to the sky, they didn't sag, but stood
proudly, firmly at attention.

The areola were large and round

and very sensitive to touch.

Unlike many large-breasted women,

she liked being touched there most of all.
amazingly small; her butt full, but firm.

Her waist was
She was someone you

wanted to fall into, to be swallowed up by, never to come out.
The ultimate earth-mother.
Her skin was lightly tanned, as if she spent just enough
time in the sun to keep it healthy-looking.

There was a fine

fuzz of golden-brown hair on her arms and legs, and in her
armpits when she chose not to shave.

Her hair was also

golden-brown and cascaded to her waist, but she usually wore it
in a long pony-tail, caught half-way down her back in a casual
bow, or piled luxuriously on top of her head.
She was the most patient and forgiving of lovers, almost
mothering her men to death.
little in return.

She gave and gave and expected

Because she was so honest in her selflessness,

men were disarmed and never took advantage of her.

They could

perceive no other motive in her generosity but the desire to give
pleasure.

And she gave it gladly and often.

The air was barely moving.

And after the summer's rain,

unusual for that time of year, it was humid.
moist fertility of the earth.
surprise summer's storm.
earth is the valley.
Sultry, yet dangerous.

You could smell the

There was something about a

That moist, decomposing scent of wet

In it is the smell of water and life.
Something was going to happen this night.

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398

He had a tequila, straight with a lime.
this night.

It felt like Mexico,

She chose champagne, fluted tulip glass, and a short

snort of snow.

Deliberately, she slipped on some music.

passionate rhythms of reggae.

Dark,

No matter where she was in the

room, she stared into his eyes.

She began to dance.

He could

see every bulge and curve and cutting line beneath the white silk
dress she wore.

He was staring at her waist, working his way

down her legs, when the dress dropped away.
As she danced, she watched him watching her.

She reached

up, rubbing her stomach and then her breasts and then began
tugging at her nipples.
eager.

They responded as he did, stiff and

She danced closer, gazed more deeply.

on his shoulders, his on her breasts.

She put her hands

She tasted of wine.

opened his eyes and she was still watching.

He

She took off his

coat, his shirt, and his belt, still moving to the music, still
licking the back of his throat, still digging into his eyes.
Her body felt warm as she slowly straddled the chair and
him.

One hand rubbed his nipples, while the other rubbed him

against her, in and out, up and down and around.
hand to touch her ass.

They moved back and forth.

He reached one
She

shuddered, then smiled a wide smile, as she pushed him back on
the chair.

He flinched as she scraped her claws along the inside

of his thigh, nicking the flesh.

Then there was no air blowing,

only her, only a feeling of lips, tongue, and mouth moving warm
and tight.

He wanted to see her, watch what she was doing.

he saw were wide-open eyes.
He told her he couldn't wait.

She said he should.

She

All

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tipped a spoonful onto the top of his straining cock.
the eye of the rooster.

His back almost snapped as it arched

forward, spraying the silk.

Then he doubled back, eyes slammed

shut, just trying to catch his breath.
said.

Cocaine in

Now, it's my turn she

She placed the powder between her open legs and pushed it

toward him.

Rub some on me.

Right here.

She reclined on her

elbows and lifted her legs, never once letting go of his gaze.
He touched her, kissed her lips and breasts, teasing before the
finish.

His fingers, honeydrippers, adhering with white

fingertips, gently grabbed her clit, rubbing and squeezing, but
not long, before she yowled and screeched, closing her legs and
turning her body away from him.

But not those heavy-lidded eyes.

When the sun hit his eyes, she was already gone.
dressed, satisfied with his night's work.

He

As he pulled onto the

frontage road leading to the freeway and passed the Holiday Inn,
he didn't see the white limousine parked near the pool.

Or her

car standing next to it.

Each moment is a place you've never been.
-- Mark Strand
A seed of dissension was seeking light.

A rebel that would

shatter the facade of unity and control that DiGiulio, Delancy,
and Borba had carefully cultivated.

He was a transplanted local

boy, born in Wisconsin and raised in Ralston.

He went to law

school back East, specializing in environmental law, and
practiced there for several years before returning home and going
to work for Delancy & Reed.

He had been the point man on most of

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400

Delancy's cases dealing with the environment, including
Masterson.
going on.

His name was Michael Olbrantz.

He knew what was

He didn't like what he was seeing.

disillusioned.

He had become

And he wanted to do something about it.

Michael Olbrantz and I had known each other since third
grade, when he moved out from Wisconsin.

His Father had been

transferred by Marathon paper company, a subsidiary of American
Can, to their plant in Ralston.

Western could still remember

Michael's lunch sandwiches wrapped in the Rainbow bread paper his
Dad had gotten from the plant.

I still remember riding home

after school, going over to Mike's to watch American Bandstand)
and plan our future.

It was only fourth grade, but we'd already

decided we were going to be friends forever.
up, we'd raise thoroughbred racing horses.

And when we grew
We'd own a huge ranch

with weeping willow trees and white board fences.
We had competed against each since the day we'd first met.
It was friendly, but it was fierce.

Whether it was doing the

most book reports, getting the lead in the school play, or being
the best baseball player, we always seemed to be going
head-to-head; through elementary school, junior high, and high
school.

Even when we went our separate ways to college, we still

used the other as an absent antagonist.

It was never malicious,

never vindictive, because we were bound together by who we were
and where we came from; what our family background was and the
schools we attended.

Although we both succeeded, and well, at

everything we attempted, we could never become part of the elite;
equals with the kids who got there because of their parents'

Tyranny of the Downbeat

money and position.
people.

401

Our parents were lower middle class working

Our fathers were laborers, our mothers stayed home

and raised a house-full of kids.

There was always just enough

money for food, but not enough for extravagances.
hand-me-downs.

Clothes were

Luckily for both of us, we were the oldest.

The competition we both remember well was the competition
for our little league coach's approval and affection.

Though

we both had loving, caring fathers, the coach was our hero.
only was he our teacher, but he was an athlete.
like him.

Not

We wanted to be

We went out to all his games and cheered for him.

We

jostled for the right to ride home in the back of his sports car
We laughed now at the memory as we finished our drinks.

I

was really enjoying the memories.
"Remember when we played the last game of the 'A League'
playoffs?"
"And he called a balk against their pitcher?"
"And all the parents and kids threw rocks at his car."
"They did not know what a balk was.

Nobody had ever called

a balk in Little League."
"He did."
"He certainly was competitive, wasn't he?"
"And we're not?
other night.

You know, I played softball with him the

I was scared to death.

I'd been wanting to play

ball with him ever since he coached me on the Babe Ruth All-Star
team."
"Did you pass the test?"
"I think so.

It's funny.

I was telling some other people

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402

about the game and my Dad was there.

I was goin' on about how

it was my dream to play with the coach.
me everything I knew about baseball.
not listening anymore.

How this guy had taught

And I notice that my Dad's

That's he's talking to someone else.

And

I suddenly realized that during all those years I'd been saying
how the coach had been my hero, I was cutting my Dad to the bone.
I was really hurting him.

He had spent as much time, maybe even

more, not only teaching me the game, but teaching me how to deal
with winning and losing.
combative.

How to be competitive without being

It had never dawned on me."

"That's because we both took our parents for granted.
expected them to be there.

To help us.

To teach us.

We

And then

we left them."
"Well, at least I can make it up to my Dad."
"I can't.

At least not that way."

I realized the conversation had changed direction and his
face said it had changed emotion.
"I am extremely concerned."
"About?"
"What is taking place at the office.
hasn't slept in weeks.
tense.

She's very jumpy.

Laura looks like she
Things seem very

And it becomes especially so every time John Borba comes

by to see Thomas.

Now they meet behind closed doors.

That never

happened before."
Mike was an old friend, but I wasn't about to help him
through his concern right now and maybe compromise Laura's
ability to help us.

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403

"Maybe I'm overreacting.
isn't there.

Perhaps I'm seeing something that

But I do not like what I am sensing.

I went to

work for Thomas Delancy because of his reputation and his
commitment to certain issues.

I'm not sure his priorities are in

order any longer."
"I wish I could help you Mike.
don't.

I wish I knew more.

But I

I see Laura very seldom and I really don't talk to anyone

else in the office but you."
"But we both know that the project you're working on has
something to do with Delancy and Borba.

So you must know more

than you're telling me."
"Sorry.

If you're concerned, you've got to decide for

yourself what you need to do.

I can't decide for you."

"And you won't have to."

Robin Devereaux had invited me to breakfast at "The Vintage"
restaurant.

The coffee had arrived and we had ordered before

Robin got to what was bothering him.
"They never give up.

Don't you see what they're doing?"

"Who and what?"
"The League and the rest of the big farmers.

They're

undermining our position, compromising our allies, dividing and
conquering."
"Wait.

Can you back up a bit?

It's still early and you're

way ahead of me."
Leaning back, taking a breath, he starts again.
Slowly.

From the top.

"All right.

You've heard they're thinking about

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404

closing Hetch Hetchy?"
"Yes.

Something about draining it."

"And adding it to the National Park Service."
"Not a bad idea.

I'm sure most people in the state will

love it."
"That's right.

So when we, and the other environmentalists,

start bitching, we won't have any support at all.

How can

we, who fought to save the Yosemite Valley from development and
pollution, complain when the government's going to set aside more
of it.

To preserve and protect it so more people can enjoy it?"

"You can't."
"But it's only a diversion.

A red herring."

"I'm lost."
"What happens when they drain Hetch Hetchy."
"You already told me."
"Not that.

What about the people of San Francisco?"

stops as the waitress brings our food.

He

"The people who get most

of their power and drinking water from Hetch Hetchy?"
"I guess they'll it get from somewhere else?"
"Where?"
"I don't know.

You're the expert."

"That's right.

And I know it's not going to come from

anywhere because they've got no place to get it.

All the water

that's stored behind existing dams is already claimed.

It's

already being used by cities for drinking, industry for
production, and agriculture for irrigation.
yelling for more."

And everyone's

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405

"But there's enough water, isn't there?

Between rainfall,

snowmelt, river runoff, and the ground water?"
"Sure there is.

But it's not controlled.

It's wild.

people want more water, they've got to have more dams.

If

With

Hetch Hetchy closing and all the others maxed out, some new ones
have to be built."
"But no new dams are even under construction.

Are there

even any on the boards?"
"There are plenty on the boards, including the Auburn
Dam.

But each time they've come up for funding, or been placed

on a ballot in recent years, they've been defeated.

Narrowly,

but stopped nonetheless."
"Because of lobbying and pressure from environmentalists and
public opinion?"
"And because there wasn't an overwhelming need."
"Except Los Angeles.

They keep trying to get the Big Ditch

built, or some variation of it."
"Right.

But they've never had enough allies, especially in

Northern California.

And they've never really had sufficient

public support to pass any of their water grab attempts."
"So, if all of a sudden there's one less dam and a lot less
water for San Francisco,

...

"

"And you combine that with a drought."
"Which we've had a few of in the last couple of years.
Los Angeles runs up the flag to build the peripheral canal,

And
..."

"Or they graciously offer to compromise and settle for a dam
or two."

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406

"Then they've got all the allies they need and you can't
stop them.

San Francisco gets the water.

park land.

Jobs are created.

to build.

The public gets more

The BuRec and Army Corps get a dam

And Los Angeles gets even more water."

"Most of which will go to the big farms in the San Fernando
and San Joaquin Valleys.
thing to begin with.
politicians.

To the people who started the whole

They lobbied for it.

They pressured the

And they paid for everything."

"One dam goes away and several others take its place."
"We trade Hetch Hetchy for a few more rivers."
"You're right.

They've got us."

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407
CHAPTER 27

It's a man's world
It's a man's world
But it wouldn't be nothing, nothing
Without a woman or a girl
Man made the car
That take us over the road
Man made the train
To carry the heavy load
Man made the electric light
To take us out of the dark
Man made the boat for the water
Like Noah made the ark
Man can make everything he can
But a woman makes a better man
-- James Brown, "It's A Man's World"
Walsh and I had spent most of the morning meeting with
ground water experts from the Water Resources Center at UC Davis.
We had both volunteered to do the interview just so we could
spend a day hanging out together in our old college haunts.
Some were still around.
small.

Many were not.

Most seemed awfully

Following the interview, we cruised the campus, checking

out the co-eds, then headed over to "The Graduate," shot some
pool and some beers, then went downtown.

As we passed the site

of what used to be "The Lantern," a student, or someone at the
right age to qualify, walked between us, resplendent in his
tie-dyed shirt, lost and listening to his headphones.
I sniffed the air, then sniffed again.

"Holy shit!

Patchouli Oil!"
Walsh turned, then looked back at me and broke out in his
hyena laugh.

"Fuckin' pop into the Twentieth Century, dude!"

We both laughed at this mutual exorcism of our communal

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408

past.
"Probably listening to the Grateful Dead."
"No, I'd say it's some of that 'New Age' shit.

Fucking hot

tub muzak for Yuppies."
"Give me a break."
music.

"I like it.

We didn't always agree on our tastes in

It's cinematic."

"Take some more drugs, dude."
"Better'n Dwight Yoakum, cowboy.

How's it so different from

Respighi's 'Pines of Rome,' or Vaughan Williams' 'The Lark
Ascending?'

Or Rodrigo or Stravinsky?"

"Who are they?
who they were.

Harpists?"

He knew

He was just busting my balls.

"It's backlash.
boom monopoly.

He laughed that laugh.

Those who can't participate in the baby

They're envious of what we supposedly were.

we supposedly accomplished.
figure, then trash it.

What

If you can't be a part of it, they

Trivialize it.

"I'll help it get on the bus.

Maybe it'll go away."

Just give me Merle any old

time."
I sucker-punched him in the ribs as we swung into "The
Club"--the last bar on our last tour--and heard "Silver Wings" on
the juke box.
We settled into a couple of seats at the bar, ordered two
long necks, and turned to watch the pool players.

Being back a

the site of much of our "coming of age" pranks had us both
thinking back on how it was we got here and what had happened
along the way.
Sometimes I think I think too much.

I over-analyze.

I'm

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409

always thinking about my life and what I'm doing that's good or
bad.

I should probably just leave it alone.

keep picking at it.

But I don't.

I

It's like having a chipped tooth, or a piece

of food stuck in your teeth and your tongue keeps playing with
it, touching it, exploring it, aggravating it.
leave it alone.

I can't seem to

And here I was again, picking at it, Wilson.

"Are you lonely, Wally?"
"In what way?"
"Alone.

On your own."

"That's pretty difficult.

I've got a family.

I can't even

take a shit without an audience."
"Well, when I look at Jorge, Billie, me, and others our age,
I see a lot of lonely men and women.

Disillusioned."

"Shit, you shouldn't be lonely.
buyer's market.
mature.

You're a seller in a

You're in your prime.

Just forty.

A successful professional with money.

Attractively

And you're only

semi-ugly."
I flip him off.

"So why aren't I selling?"

"Too much of a hassle, I guess.

Too much of an emotional

drain."
"Anticipation and expectation.
They expect too much.

That's what I told Jorge.

They want something I'm not.

So, if I

like someone and want to stay with them, I've got to accommodate.
And, right now, I kind of like not having to tell anyone about
anything I'm doing."
"It's easier just to have a few beers with the boys."
salutes me with his Bud.

He

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410

"While she sits at home wondering why I haven't asked her
out."
"You don't mind being alone?"
"No.

And why should I?

The only one it should bother is me

and I really don't give a flying fuck.
there, men and women, living alone.

There's a bunch of us out

The one's who would be doing

the judging are the ones who are doing it alone.
problem any more.

It isn't a

The days of the spinster aunt and kindly uncle

are long gone."
"You were talking about expectations.

That's part of it.

The problem is that when you expect things to be a certain way,
you're not as likely to compromise.

And that's got men and women

sleeping alone at nights."
"I think that's why I like being around my family, and
friends like you so much.

And that's probably why Sandy resents

all of you."
"Because we accept you the way you are?"
"That's right.

It's non-threatening.

I have too few

expectations and she has too many."
"But your family's pretty unique.

You all seem to really

like each other and really care about the others.
it with the extended family.

And you share

People like me and Jorge and Gover.

Even assholes like Stevie."
"That was my Mom."
"Don't discount your Dad.

I'm sure he had a lot to do with

it, too."
"Didn't it use to be simpler?"

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411

"Hey, when it comes to men and women, it's never been
simple."
"Maybe I just don't want to understand them.
easier to not explain the unexplainable.
A way to maintain the mysterious.
an effort.

Maybe it's

That gives us an edge.

That way I don't have to make

I can just sigh and say it's impossible to know them,

or know what they really want."
"Sure.

Besides, a lifetime commitment was easy when you

married at eighteen and died at forty."
"The myth of Helen Gurley Brown and the "Cosmo woman".
It's emotional masturbation.
themselves.
women's lib.

They did it to themselves and for

You know, I really had no problem with the spirit of
I believed it.

Guess I still do."

"Then they changed the rules."
"Right.

They wanted room to be themselves.

To be

independent."
"We said fine.
"Great.

Then they wanted to get close, intimate."

They wanted freedom, then got pissed when we

wouldn't get close and wouldn't commit."
"And when we finally did, they freaked out when it went
sour."
"And they say we're confused."
"It's their own damn fault.

They're sending out the

smokescreen."
"I sometimes think they forget that everything they're
saying, we're hearing and believing."
"And when we talk to them about it, they're only seeing our

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lips move.
"Yea.

412

They're not hearing a word we're saying."
They never talk with us, only at us.

Maybe if they

started talking, we might finally get a better idea about what
they really wanted.

Then we could get close and they'd stop

getting angry."
"You know what they say?

The trouble with men is men and

the trouble with women is men."
"That's good.

You know, I really don't feel believe they

feel deep down that we like them or want to be with them.
what's so frustrating about their anger.
with them.

That's

Because I do like being

I don't know about you, but it's a broader landscape

seeing the world through a woman's eyes.
games, it's time to go home to mama.

I mean, after the poker

Living only with men, in a

man's world, in spite of what James Brown says, is pretty
boring."
"And smelly."
"You know what I still like in a woman?
That's number one.

Intelligence.

Clever, with a good sense of humor, is a

close second."
"Danger zone."
"Why?"
"Now you've got a competitor who doesn't feel or smell like
one.

Better pocket your self-image.

It may not be where you

left it when you get done."
"Sure, it takes a little more work to live with a strong
person.

But that's part of what attracted me to Sandy."

"And me to Jane."

That one caught me off guard, but wasn't

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413

a total surprise.
"Right.

Their independence."

"But that's part of the problem isn't it?"
"Sure.

She doesn't want to be barefoot and pregnant.

don't want her to be.

And I

She's got the freedom, money-wise and

mind-wise, to leave when she wants."
"That's a double-edged sword.
but you also want them dependent.

You want them self-reliant,
You want to be able to take

care of them so they can tell you to go to hell."
"I want a co-conspirator, not a concubine.

We can both

contribute friends and money to the relationship without cashing
out our individuality.
me.

Besides, Sandy's not totally dependent on

But I don't think she's independent enough yet to live on

her own."
"Jane is."

He obviously is looking for a conspirator and a

confidante on this issue.
"Sometimes I wish I'd married someone without any brains or
ambition.

Someone whose entire life revolved around me.

wanted to eat, she'd fix it.

When I

When I wanted to screw, she'd ask

how."
"Oriental women."
"It can get suffocating, though.

There's no place to go and

they're always there."
"What a fantasy, though.

I'd at least like to try it."

"Here am I worrying about my own sexuality, my own adequacy,
my own ability to please them and yet they're the ones that
fucked everything up."

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414

"They get angry and they want us to deal with that, but we
have to do it with tenderness and sensitivity."
"They want to kick our ass in racquetball, then they expect
us to open the car door for them."
"Why do they get so angry?
because we're men?

What do they want?

Is it

Because we supposedly have it made and

they've been denied admission to the club?"
"It's their own conflict.
distance.

It helps them keep their

It keeps them from becoming too dependent on us.

it's also part of their own conflict and frustration.
society.

By us and by themselves.

But

Created by

We want 'em smart and

pretty."
"Tough career women by day.

Doting mothers and gentle

lovers by night."
"Do they want kids or a career?

Commitment or freedom?

I

feel I've really tried to understand her needs and do what I can
to make it work.

But then so does she."

"And you keep defending her just like that.
please her and she kicks you in the nuts.

You try to

Do you think she, and

the rest of them, appreciate what you're doing?
to please them and they think you're a pussy.

No way.

You try

It's a no-win

situation, cowboy."
"What am I supposed to do?

Take my marbles and go home?"

"I'd take my nuts, instead."
"Okay, so I leave her.
singles scene.

There's no way I'm going to hit the

I'm too old for that.

Everyone in the bars is

twenty-one, with a full head of hair, a flat stomach, and

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pectorals.

415

All I've got is a brain and a sense of humor."

"So get friendly with your recliner again."
"But I could get stuck in that rut.
living alone.

I know that.

I could get used to

But it could get real lonely.

And,

then, one day, one of the little neighborhood girls would point
at me, this old, bald-headed, single guy, and say I molested
her."
"You know what we're both facing?
our age are facing?

What all men and women

Being alone the rest of our lives or making

a commitment."
"Because of our expectations."
"Because we were set up."
"And if I don't learn to deal with it, I'm going to end up
an old man sharing a frozen turkey TV dinner with one of my
'Mud Bowl' buddies."
"That's a frightening image."
"You think that's bad.

Think about being the last man,

sitting there for the newspaper, toasting all my dead comrades,
drinking alone."
"How come you and Sandy never had any kids?"
"We both decided we liked our lifestyle the way it was.
didn't want to be tied down.

We

I mean we don't even have a dog or

a bird."
"Nice comparison.

You really think having a kid's like

having a pet?"
"No.

It's easier to take a dog to the kennel when you go on

vacation than it is to get a babysitter."

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416

"Ugly asshole you are."
"You know what I mean.
go.

We just liked being free to come and

And besides, if the marriage ever went bad, I didn't want to

have to deal with custody.

Or, worse yet, I didn't want to be

in a position of keeping the marriage together just for the kids.
My parents did that and I admired them for it.
made emotional cripples of us.

I don't think it

But I know there were times they

both wished they weren't married.

But they kept it together for

the kids."
"So what was their outlet?
"Dad's outlet was work.
later, more pills and alcohol.

Did they have any affairs?"

Mom's was us kids, pills, and,
As far as affairs, I really don't

know, but I have a hunch that something happened between them and
some close friends of theirs once."
"Why?"
"Because one day they were big buddies, did everything
together, then, the next day, they were bitter enemies.
seeing each other.

Didn't talk to each other.

husband died, my Mom didn't go to the funeral.

Stopped

Then, when the
She said it

was because she hated funerals, especially ones with an open
casket.

She always said she wanted to remember people the way

they were when they were alive, not dead in a casket.

But

his wife never forgave her."
"So something definitely happened?"
"Yeah, and I never asked my Dad.
either.

Never talked to my Mom,

But the fact is they kept their together for us kids.

No matter how badly they wanted out.

And we're better for it.

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417

We know what it means to make a commitment and stay with it.

But

I'd hate to have kids and then try to keep it together like my
parents did, only to see the kids get fucked up.
norm.

And that's the

That's happened to a lot of people I know.

And I never

wanted to deal with that so we never had any kids."
"But isn't that really a lack of commitment?

I mean, if

you're saying you don't want kids because you don't want to screw
them up if you get divorced, you're saying from the start that
you don't have much hope for the marriage."
"Can't hit a moving target."

Always the joke to dodge the

reality.

My child arrived just the other day.
He came to the world in the usual way.
But there were planes to catch and bills to pay.
He learned to walk while I was away.
And he was talkin' 'fore I knew it, and as he grew
He'd say "I'm gonna be like you, dad,
You know I'm gonna be like you."
And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man in the moon.
"When you comin' home son?"
"I don't know when, but we'll get together then,
You know we'll have a good time then."
My son turned ten just the other day
He said "Thanks for the ball, dad, come on let's play.
Can you teach me to throw?" I said "Not today
I got a lot to do." He said "That's ok."
And he walked away, but his smile never dimmed.
And said "I'm gonna be like him, yeah.
You know I'm gonna be like him."
Well he came from college just the other day
So much like a man I just had to say
"Son, I'm proud of you can you sit for awhile?"
He shook his head and said with a smile
"What I'd really like dad is to borrow the car keys.

Tyranny of the Downbeat
See you later.

418

Can I have them please?"

I've long since retired. My son's moved away.
I called him up just the other day.
I said "I'd like to see you if you don't mind."
He said "I'd love to dad if I can find the time.
You see my new job's a hassle and the kids have the flu
But it's sure nice talking to you, dad,
It's been sure nice talking to you."
And as I hung up the phone it occurred to me-He'd grown up just like me,
My boy was just like me.
And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man in the moon.
"When you comin' home son?"
"I don't know when, but we'll get together then.
You know we'll have a good time then."
-- Harry Chapin, "Cat's in the Cradle"
I thought about my Dad.

He didn't talk much.

We had never really sat down and talked.
after Mom died.

But it was uncomfortable.

Like something we had to do.

Never did.

We did a little right
Awkward.

Mandatory.

Here was two people who weren't

that good at showing their emotions or opening up, trying to let
the other one know how they felt.
started was after a few beers.
that.

Again, after a few beers.

The only way we could even get

We talked a couple of times after
During one of the later talks,

after he'd started seeing the woman he later married, he made a
comment that threw me.

We never really discussed it.

said it in passing and we moved on to other silences.

He just
He said he

hoped his kids didn't stay married because he and my Mother had.
He didn't elaborate.
Later, I started thinking.

Obviously, he hadn't been happy

the last few years with my Mom.

And he had kept it together for

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us kids.

419

And he was feeling like maybe he'd set a precedent for

us that he wasn't too comfortable with.

Because he knew, even

though we--or at least I--never said anything, that we loved and
respected them both for basically sacrificing their lives for us.
He could see there were cracks in each of his kids' marriages.
And I think he really didn't want to be responsible for our
staying together, just because he had.
As I looked back on it, I was glad to finally hear him be
honest.

We all knew they had both felt that way during the

marriage, but they had never said anything where we could hear
it.

But his life had changed and he had become much more honest.

And I guess he was feeling he didn't want us to make any of the
same mistakes he had.

I understood his concern, but was still

surprised by the honesty.
little credit.

But I think he was giving us far too

They had both raised their kids to be independent

people with good sense and sound judgment.

And, although we

probably patterned some parts of our lives after them, we were as
influenced by what they said as what they did.
So, yes, we loved them for not divorcing while we grew up.
But each of our own decisions to remain married were independent
choices.

We each stayed for our own reasons.

same, others were not.
commitment.

Some were the

But, for all of us, the key one was

And we had learned that from our parents.

They had

made a commitment to each other, to the kids, and to the family.
They felt the need to honor that.
the same.

And each of us kids had done

We had made the commitment and were determined to stay

with it, short of major infidelity, abuse, or some crime.

And

Tyranny of the Downbeat

420

even then, it probably would have taken some time for us to make
the decision to clear out.
marriage vows lightly.

We had not, and did not, take our

And we were not about to throw something

so significant away unless, and until, we'd looked at it very
closely and made sure we weren't making a mistake.
Of course, there was always the flip side.

It may have been

that the decision to stay was probably due as much to inertia as
anything else.

Like our Father, none of us were confrontational.

We didn't like exposing our feelings.

So it was often easier

just to let it ride, to let the wound fester inside, instead of
opening it up and airing it out.
I don't know which side of the coin was keeping us together.
But we were.

And we were examining the marriage.

it the benefit of the doubt.

We were giving

We both had problems to deal with.

Problems we had brought to the marriage and problems that had
undermined it.

Now we were dealing with each other alone.

And

here we were, living alone together.
I think Sandy and I were different from most couples.

I was

the one who kept jumping through mental and emotional hoops
trying to figure her out and make some sense of our marriage.
It's usually the woman who spends all the time talking the
relationship to death.
me.

With friends and analysts.

But it was

I wanted the commitment, the intimacy, the definition.

She

seemed to just keep cruising along.
I think she thinks I'm a wimp because I don't stand up to
her.

I'm inconsistent.

Only drinking gives me backbone.

just don't feel like fighting her.

But I

I don't know if it's worth

Tyranny of the Downbeat

the effort anymore.

421

Besides, what does she want?

Probably for one long night maybe.

Rambo?

I haven't found it yet, but

there must be a happy medium between these two extremes of
manhoodity.
I've said it before and I'll say it again.
take life less seriously.

She needs to

She needs to laugh with me, not at me.

I mean we are the ultimate source of folly.

And if she hasn't

got the sense of proportion to see that, then I guess I don't
have the good sense to keep it going.
The most effective prescription for curing stress was
published over 250 years ago by Jonathon Swift, who wrote:

"The

best doctors in the world are Doctor Diet, Doctor Quiet and
Doctor Merryman."
I mean, does anybody remember laughter?

It seems we're

taking ourselves much too seriously these days.
lot more of it when I was younger.

I used to hear a

Now everyone's face seems

frozen in a mortis of mock-seriousness, not mock-turtleness.
Their asses are so tight that their faces are constipated with
righteous indignities.

Ooh, you're so severe.

So pinched.

Doctors and jesters tell us it takes more muscles to frown than
it does to smile.
Lighten up, people.

Is it perplexity or nuclear holocaust?
Let the jester out.

Let him tell the king

he has no sense of humor.
Someone once said we can never love anyone with whom we've
never laughed.
thing.

Sharing good times, sharing bad times is one

But sharing a laugh keeps everything in perspective.

says you and your co-conspiratorial chuckler share the same

It

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422

vision of life, absurd or whimsical.
that you don't take it too seriously.
somehow.

And most important of all,
I must have known this

I certainly felt that way about life, because I did put

it in our marriage vows.

My contribution to the solemn occasion

were the playful admonitions to never lose our sense of humor and
to always maintain our sense of perspective.

Two faces of the

same Olympian laugh as far as I was concerned.
So, what was I doing wrong?
ever been in failed?

Why had I always been the one left behind?

Was I thinking about it too much?
enough emotional?

Why had every relationship I'd

Too much cerebral and not

Someone said I should challenge her.

Maybe I

should challenge her.

I shouldn't roll over so easily.

I should

stop protecting her.

Maybe I should stop sheltering her.

Maybe

I lack compassion.

I'm too selfish to see what she needs.

I should be less selfish.
about it.

Fuck it.

Maybe

Maybe I should just stop thinking

Maybe I should stop worrying about things I

can't control.
I lit my purest candle close to my,
Window hoping it would catch the eye,
Of any vagabond who passed it by,
And I waited in my fleeting house.
Before he came I felt him drawing near,
And as he neared I felt the ancient fear,
That he had come to wound my door and jeer,
And I waited in my fleeting house.
Tell me stories I called to the hobo,
Stories of cold I smiled at the hobo,
Stories of old I knelt to the hobo,
And he stood before my fleeting house.
"No," said the hobo,"No more tales of time."

Tyranny of the Downbeat
"Don't ask me now to wash away the grime,"
"I can't come in 'cause it's too high a climb."
And he walked away from my fleeting house.
"Then you be damned!" I screamed to the hobo,
"Leave me alone," I wept to the hobo,
"Turn into stone," I knelt to the hobo,
He walked away from my fleeting house.
-- Tim Buckley, "The Hobo"

423

Tyranny of the Downbeat

424
CHAPTER 28

Happiness is being able to speak the truth without hurting
anyone.
-- Federico Fellini
Laura's secretary buzzed her.
see you right away, Laura."

"Mr. Delancy would like to

Though there was no obvious reason

to be concerned, her own guilt and paranoia kicked in.

She had

been very careful in her clandestine dealings with Elliot, but
she was sure many more now knew and she wasn't sure about them.
She picked up her legal pad and crossed the expanse of expensive
gray carpet to his corner office.

She was surprised to see

Michael Olbrantz sitting upright in one of the chairs.
He offered her a cup of coffee.

She sat.

She declined and looked over at

Michael, who was looking extremely uncomfortable.
"How's Chloe?"
She knew this conversation was not going to be good.

It

never was when Thomas asked her about the everyday events in her
life.

Those were things he just really didn't care a thing

about.

"Fine.

A little slow because of the heat.

But it's

getting to me, too."
"Yes.

Another 100-degree-plus day might start making

everyone a wee bit crazy."

He knocked the ashes off the cigar

butt he was dangling over the ashtray.

He shoved a few papers

around, straightening them out on his desk.
Here it comes.

He's so predictable.

So readable.

"Laura, we've decided to make a change in the caseload."
She crossed her arms and leaned back.

The defensive body

Tyranny of the Downbeat

425

language didn't go unnoticed.
"I'm taking you off the Masterson case and assigning it to
Michael."
That's why he was here.

She shot him a hard glance.

eyes asked him why he had sold out to the other side.
staring out the window.

He kept

"Care to tell me why?"

"That's why we hired him.
law.

Her

He's stronger on environmental

And he's handled most of the hearings in Mendota."
She decided to make him twist a little.

"But why now?

Has

something changed?"
"Yes, it has.

His case load has gotten lighter and he's

available."
"Is that all, or is there another problem?"

She wants to

know what he knows.
He pauses, takes a puff, and plunges forward.
that Robert DiGiulio is our biggest account.
his business."

A significant pause.

He feels we're not

...

"You realize

I'd rather not lose

"He called me yesterday.

"

"Meaning I'm not?"
"He feels that we're not representing his best interests on
the Masterson issue.

And he'd like a change of attorneys and a

slightly different approach."
"More like a cover-up?"
He doesn't like the direction this conversation is
taking.

"No, more like a change in emphasis."

"Because I've uncovered a smoking gun?"
"Knock off the Watergate crap.

It's not funny."

Tyranny of the Downbeat

426

"You and your Democratic cronies once thought it was."
"Your father didn't."

Again, the veiled threat.

She

bristles, surprised and curious about what else he knows.
taking the firm, my firm, onto shaky ground.
client doesn't like it.

"You're

And our number one

And, quite frankly, I don't like it."

"And I don't suppose the recent visits by our esteemed
congressman has anything to do with this?"
"Let's just say they don't know where your allegiances lie.
Nor do I."
"It's getting a little warm in here, isn't it Thomas?
beginning to feel some real heat.
How about OxyGene?
people?

Who else is pressuring you?

How about the water lobby?

Or the Westlands

That's a lot of powerful people to disappoint."

His eyes are beginning to smolder.
right.

I'm

Partly because she's

Mostly because he can't, or won't, do anything about it.

Because he will buckle, as he has so many other times.
"It's beginning to look like a lot of people don't want the
word out.
that?

I think they've got a word for it.

What do they call

Conspiracy, I think."
Time to try the reasoned approach.

over your head.

"Laura.

You're in way

You don't know who you're dealing with, or

what."
"And if I refuse?"
Steely.

"I would like your cooperation.

to remain part of this family."

She laughs.

me to, I'll ask for your resignation."

I would like you
"But, if you force

That brings Michael back.

He glances over to see the color going from her face.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

427

Realizing this kind of baiting brinksmanship won't help her,
or the truth, she decides to change course.

"I see.

Would you

like me to give Michael all my files?"
Relieved, profoundly, he smiles his broad, winning, best old
country smile.

"Yes.

"Yes," she smiles.
files are in my office.

Then we can get things back on track."
"Back the way they used to be.

The

I'll have them organized and on his desk

this afternoon."
"That'll be fine.

And thanks for being so level-headed,

Laura."
"That's always been one of my finer traits, hasn't it?"
It didn't take long for her to organize the files and clean
out her office.

She had them in a box and in her car before

anyone knew that she was gone.

She took one last look at the

office before pulling onto "I" Street and leaving this part of
her life behind.
She didn't want to, but she felt she owed her mother an
explanation.

It would have been easier to leave without a word.

"Laura, do you have any idea what you're throwing away?
idea what's involved here?

Any idea!"

Any

Bordering on hysteria.

"Only the most successful career you'll ever have."
"And the most advantageous, socially acceptable
affiliation?"
"Don't be smart with me, young lady.

You know I care about

you."
"I'd say you care more about what your friends at the
club will say."

The slap rings sharply against her cheek.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

"No!

428

I'm sorry Laura!

I didn't mean it.

I couldn't help

myself."
"How many years have you waited for that, Mother?

How long

have you kept it inside?"
Her mother quickly lights yet another cigarette and draws it
deep, looking for shelter, a break.
"I'm doing this because it's what I believe.
consider acceptable.
let him down.

Not what you

I didn't want to hurt Thomas.

He's done too much for me.

I didn't want to

But the man who took me

off that case today was a man I don't know anymore.
think I know you now."

Any more than I

Her mother's back is all she has to speak to.

Then, very slowly and deliberately, Laura
continues.
me.

"I'm doing this for me.

For once, I'm doing it for

For what I think is right."
Her Mother, back still turned, isn't satisfied.

you associate with those people?
Environmentalists.

"How can

Media people.

Revolutionary riff-raff.

They're no better

than terrorists."
"Then I guess I'm a terrorist, too.
what was involved?

You asked me if I know

Do you have any idea what's involved?"

Her mother takes another drag and tightens her shoulders.
"I really don't think you do.
cover-up.
money."

It's conspiracy.

My God, Mother, it may even be murder.
There's almost a reaction, imperceptible.

It's

And all for
"Some people

may have died because of what these people have done.
Thomas, DiGiulio.

Maybe even Billie."

"Why do you defend him?

He was good for nothing."

Borba,

Tyranny of the Downbeat

429

"At least he tried to tell the truth.

Very few of your

better class of friends would have done that."
"He's gone.

Let it be."

"No, not ever again."
"I can't help you then."
"You won't help me."
"If that's the way you see it."
"It is."
the unspoken.

Thinking out loud, she crosses over the line into
"And I just have to wonder whose side you're on.

I have heard some things in the past few weeks that make me
wonder about your relationship with Robert DiGiulio."
grasps the window ledge as she turns.

Her mother

Laura can't tell whether

shock or anger is winning the war of her emotions.

Her need to

know has pushed her to the abyss and she needs to look inside.
"What happened between you and him and my Father?"
beginning to see the scenario.
compromised him?

She's

"Did you do something that

That forced him to sell out to DiGiulio?"

Her

Mother's reaction is beginning to say more than she wants to
hear.

"I can't believe this.

I don't want to believe this."

She steps toward her Mother, grabs her, and begins shaking her.
"You couldn't have."
"It's none of your business.

You'll never understand.

was between your father and myself.

It

I never wanted to hurt him."

With some of the story at least out in the open, Laura
reeled between shock and vindication.

She was right in her

decision and it was time to play it out.
Father would have backed me.

"I am disappointed.

He would have seen the justice in

Tyranny of the Downbeat

it.

430

He always did."
Her mother's shock finally streaked into anger.

battle was out in the open again.

The old

Through clenched teeth, "Do

not, I repeat, do not use your Father to justify your actions.
You can't hide behind him.
now, I loved him.
the good fight.
with

...

He was an honorable man.
For what was right!

(sputtering)

"You forget.

Despite what you may thinking of me

...

He would have fought

He would not have sided

with anarchists!"

He was a rebel once.

fought the established order of things.

One of the turks.

He

And he would have stood

right here, beside me."
"I think you should leave now."
"I think you're right."
The door shut slowly behind Laura, closing off yet another
part of her life.

She glanced back, one last time, only to see

her Mother pick up the phone.

Sounding the alarm.

We stood along the long wall of the field office, reviewing
the storyboard sequence--Devereaux, Pat, and I--when Laura came
in loaded down with boxes and files.
she said, "The rest are in the car.

To no one in particular,
There's been a slight

change."

In Mendota, tensions between local officials, west side farm
families, the environmentalists, and the production crew were
getting uncomfortably tense.

One afternoon, about twenty local

roughnecks, mostly teenagers, blocked the main street and kept
the production vans from leaving town.

One waved a pistol in the

Tyranny of the Downbeat

air.

431

A pickup truck peeled out in front of another van as it

tried to leave and then crept at five miles per hour in front of
it.

The sheriff's department, finally and reluctantly, dispersed

the locals.
Late one night, a free-lance grip pulled into town.
been sent to Sacramento to purchase some expendables.
gave him away.

He'd

His van

As he passed the local honky tonk, five or six of

the young locals partying there, yelled at the truck, calling him
a fag, and flipping him off as he drove by.

He pulled into a

convenience store to buy a pack of cigarettes.

When he came out,

the insults, fueled by alcohol, had turned into dares that became
threats.

The grip was part of that other world that didn't suit

these flatland cowboys.

This drunken gang of kids couldn't

change much, but they could make someone pay.

And they did.

They jumped the grip, pinning his arms, and pulled him behind
the truck and out of the store's lights.

He was punched several

times, then dropped to the ground, where he was kicked in the
sides and in the head.
He woke up bleeding from the ears, nose, and mouth.

When he

was released from intensive care, bandaged but coherent, he
didn't waste any time before heading straight back to San
Francisco.
The sheriff's department told me they would look into the
incident.

They figured it was just some kids blowing off a

little steam on a hot summer's night.

I had to accept their

explanation because I still had miles of stuff to shoot.
was Kevin Tyler, a toxicologist from the Stanford Research

Next up

Tyranny of the Downbeat

Institute--SRI.

432

We shot the interview standing in a field near

the offices of the Marriposa Combine.
It's very hot and dry and flat around here.

Much of the

ground is covered with dried clods of parched dirt.
above the furrows are salt-encrusted.

The rows

The ground at the bottom

of is parched, like huge cracked lips, jagged in their thirst.
Kick it with your feet and it breaks into chunks of dried clay,
suitable for throwing.

And that's what some of the crew was

doing to beat the heat and the boredom as we nailed down the
details of the interview.

While a thin veil of dusty silt

settled on the dark blue production van, I could easily see how
people could get crazy from the heat.

DISSOLVE:
MUSIC CHANGE: UP FULL THEN UNDER
THEME #18: Koto/Single Flute Theme
135

EXT. FIELD - ESTABLISHING SHOT

WILLIAM TYLER stands in a flat, dry, open field. The cotton plants
are just beginning to come up. In the background, we can
see farmworker hand-spraying.
WILLIAM TYLER
The incident involving Jimmie Quon is not an
isolated one. There was a case last summer.
About 100 or so farmworkers
suffered chemical burns while working in a
field that had just been sprayed with
miticide. Then, last July, a 32-year-old man
with a heart condition. He collapsed and
died after he was ordered to return to a
field that had been sprayed with a highly
toxic pesticide.
136

MEDIUM SHOT

Tyranny of the Downbeat

433

The EPA has set specific time periods after
which workers can go back into the field to
work. Time needed to reduce
the risk of exposure. Unfortunately, the
times are not always followed. Many times
the farmer will convince the EPA to shorten
the return period so workers can go back into
the field sooner.
137

EXT. FIELD - MEDIUM SHOT

Shot of farmworkers in same field spraying crops.
NARRATOR (v.o.)
It's obvious that by shortening the return
period, the farmer can get more work done and
get the crops to market faster. So the
farmers, with the consent of the EPA, are
really putting a price on the heads of these
workers. All in the name of profit. If the
grower hadn't needed his crops sprayed so he
could make
money, the workers wouldn't have been in the
fields. Victims of pesticide misuse and a
regulatory system unable to prevent it
because of bureaucracy, money, and influence.
138

EXT. FARM - ESTABLISHING SHOT

Shots of chemicals in garage and being loaded on trucks for
delivery to the fields.
Who's to blame? Partly the EPA. Because it
hasn't got around to checking up on Dinoseb
and the dozens of other products that pose
similar risks. And they still do not require
the manufacturer to put a warning on the
label. And the owner.
For not protecting his employees. For not
maintaining his equipment in good working
order. And for not requiring that his
workers wear protective clothing.
MUSIC:

UP FULL THEN OUT

BREAK POINT IN DOCUMENTARY
Everybody in town knew what the crew was shooting.
around very quickly.

They also knew it could mean their

Word got

Tyranny of the Downbeat

434

livelihood if the wrong things were said or implied.
watched "60 Minutes."

They knew that truth was relative.

could be told any way the camera wanted.
life.

Liked their isolation.

And they were afraid.

They had
It

They liked their quiet

They didn't trust these outsiders.

And with enough alcohol and bold talk, the

fear became anger, the anger action.
There was only one restaurant in the small town outside
Mendota where the crew was staying.
tavern.

It doubled as the local

It's where the boys went after working from six to six

to knock back a few cool ones and talk rodeo, baseball, women,
and cars.

Anything but their day-to-day drudgery.

a new topic of conversation.

Now they had

"All them 'Frisco fags."

One group of young Cat drivers, employees of Marriposa,
seemed to be drinking more heavily than usual.

Another man,

someone not part of their group--a large man--sat in the shadows.
He was buying the beers with Tequila backs.

And talking.

He'd

say something and one of the boys would turn to look at whoever
he was talking about.

At one point, all three turned to look at

Tyler, who sat alone drinking his coffee.

They turned back to

the man in silhouette, who gestured for another round before he
went out the back door.

The drivers finished their drinks and

followed him.
When Tyler left the cafe, he left alone.
like staying to have a few with the crew.
was leaving the next day for Palo Alto.

He didn't feel

He was tired and he
He couldn't understand

how these people could maintain the pace they did.
amounts of carbohydrates all day.

Massive

Standing or sitting for hours.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

435

A big dinner, too much to drink, then to bed at midnight and up
at six.

Young, he thought.

Lots of energy.

More than I've got.

Passing an electronics store, he lingered for a while,
watching a "Monday Night Baseball" game.
the same teams, he thought.
media.

Mets and Cubs.

Always

The arrogance of the East Coast

Both could be last place teams and it would still be the

national telecast.

In the glass, he saw someone light a

cigarette across the street, in the alley beside the hotel.

He

had heard about the incident with the grip, so he was a little
jumpy.

He felt a cold sweat start.

around, he thought.

As he moved off down the wooden walkway, he

tried to appear nonchalant.
in the alley.

Guess I'll take the long way

But he kept glancing over at the man

As he started to cross the same alley, directly

across the street, his eyes were on the lone figure when
someone's calloused hand covered his mouth and a pair of thick
arms wrapped his.

He was much too old to fight this.

The two men in black Cat hats drug Tyler behind the
buildings.

They hit him once.

They stuffed him into a feed bag

and tossed him in the back of the truck.

By then the third man

had joined them.
"This canary won't be singin' for a while," he laughed.
They drove out to the river, parked the truck, and dumped
Tyler at the foot of a cottonwood tree.
"Time to teach this egg-head fag some lessons about local
hospitality."
They didn't even bother to take the sack off.

They just

kept kicking him and hitting him with their shiny new baseball

Tyranny of the Downbeat

436

bats as he rolled along the ground, closer to the river.
"Look at me," one slurred.

"I'm Jose Canseco."

He took a

stride and grand-slammed into the sack.
They were too drunk to tell how hard, or how many times,
they hit him.

When they were too tired to continue, they kicked

the bundle one last time.

It rolled to the edge of the river and

stopped.
The flashing red of the emergency light whipped across the
faces of the crew as they watched Tyler being lifted into the
ambulance.

His shirt was off, his sides tightly bandaged.

blood had dried where it had dripped from his nose.
bits of twig and brush in this dirty hair.
barely.

The

He still had

He was aware, but

He weakly gave the thumbs up as they slid the door shut.

At the edge of the crowd, no longer hidden in the shadows and
smoke of the bar, stood Jon Henry Miller.
the drivers.

He looked around for

Not seeing them, he quietly left town.

"They almost killed the old man.

They weren't supposed to

be so enthusiastic."
"They never are."
"They were just supposed to scare the shit out of him."
"I guess they beat it out of him, instead."

He smiled that

dirty smile through crooked teeth.
"Anybody see you?"
"No.

I left before Western or any of the others who know me

got there."
"The boys know who you are?"

Tyranny of the Downbeat

"No.

437

They thought I was part of the crew.

Just someone who

didn't like fags anymore than they did."
"Can they identify you?"
"No.

I sat in the dark.

Kept my face covered.

They were

too fucked up to remember anyway."
"This could be embarrassing?"
"Embarrassing my ass!

It could be my butt!"

"And it will be if they find out.

I guarantee it."

Jon Henry looked a little cut down to size as he stepped
out the back door of the white limousine and pulled away in his
truck.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

438
CHAPTER 29

In my little town
I grew up believing
God keeps His eye on us all
And He used to lean upon me
As I pledged allegiance to the wall
Lord I recall
My little town
In my little town
I never meant nothin'
I was just my father's son
Saving my money
Dreaming of glory
Twitching like a finger
On the trigger of a gun
Leaving nothing but the dead and dying
Back in my little town
-- Paul Simon & Art Garfunkel, "My Little Town"
We were all still a little shaken by the beating.
was beginning to hurt.

The truth

I was telling Laura what I knew, as she

was settling into the office.

Though she and I had been friends

now for a number of years, and though I had come to her before
for legal advice, we had never worked together as colleagues on
any kind of project.
situation.

So this was a first and an entirely new

We respected each other enough, and trusted each

other enough, to know we could work well together.

But now that

she'd come over, something was bothering her; something she
needed cleared up right away, before we moved ahead.
"Travis, what we're doing is important.

As important as

anything I've ever done."
"Same here."
"So we probably both agree that we don't want anything to
jeopardize its success.

Anything that might compromise its

Tyranny of the Downbeat

439

credibility."
He starts to smile.
Geraldo Rivera?
the glory.

"You want to know if I plan to pull a

If I'm doing this only for the story, only for

Regardless of who gets hurt, or who gets

compromised?"
"Can you blame me?"
"No.
thinking.

Not if we're going to work together."
"So?

I pause,

Is it a team effort, or a solo shot?"

"Honest?"
"Always."
"When Elliot first called me and I started doing background
on it, I did initially think about myself.
personally.

How I could benefit

How I could even the score for a lot of things

people did to me and my family over the years.

Things your

'people' did to my 'people.'"
"Please.

Not the 'class' struggle."

"How would you know?
all there.

It was never an issue for you.

It was

Spread out like a banquet."

"Oh, the cliches.
"Yes, now I do.

You know me better than that.

I hope."

But you are definitely different.

Just

like your Father."
"I thank you for that.

But what did you hope to do?

What

did you expect to accomplish?"
"I figured if I could bring down just one of the 'big boys,'
one of the ruling class, the score would be even."
"So, revenge with a little envy and disappointment thrown
in for seasoning."

Tyranny of the Downbeat

"Why not?

440

Besides, I honestly wanted to make an impact.

wanted to make a difference.

I even wanted a little notoriety

among the people I grew up with.
"The conquering hero.
She smiles.

I

What's wrong with that?"

Returning home in a blaze of glory."

He does too because the truth can be humorous.

"And

now?"
"Now, it's just to make a difference.
There is still some revenge involved.
now it's not for the past.
gone, perhaps dead."
to forget him.

To right a wrong.

I won't lie to you.

But

It's because a friend of mine is

That blind-sides her because she was trying

"Because people I know have been hurt.

And more

will be until the truth gets out and they're stopped."
"That's ambitious."
"And optimistic."
"So, let's start by telling the story first."

DISSOLVE:
MUSIC CHANGE: UP FULL THEN UNDER
THEME #19: "Cool, Clear Water"
DISSOLVE:
139

EXT. RIVER - ESTABLISHING SHOT

TIM PALMER wades knee-deep in the middle of a shallow rapids.
TIM PALMER
There's this thing about flowing water.
People love it. Maybe it's because we're 75
percent water ourselves. Maybe it stems from
a heritage of gills and webbed feet.
140

CLOSE UP

PALMER dips his hand into the rushing water.

CAMERA follows as he

Tyranny of the Downbeat
lifts it into the air.
streams from his hand.

441
Silhouetted against the sun, the water

The naturalist Loren Eiseley once said, "If
there is magic on this planet, it is
contained in water."
141

EXT. RIVER - MEDIUM SHOT

GROUND LEVEL SHOT of CARL POPE on levee bank of Sacramento River.
CARL POPE
No longer will we be able to count on a
guaranteed supply of water. Of unlimited
quantity and high quality, at a price that is
very close to scot-free.
CAMERA PANS left to reveal housing development under construction.
No longer can we build wherever we want,
confident that if the water isn't immediately
available, we can just pipe
it in from somewhere else.
142

EXT. DAM - ESTABLISHING SHOT

AERIAL FLY-BY of Folsom Dam and Folsom Lake.
POPE (v.o.)
And no longer can we continue to 'solve' our
water problems by merely finding new sources
to exploit, new streams to
dam.
Helicopter swoops down to water level almost dipping CAMERA into
the water.
"The Global 2000 Report" paints a fairly
bleak picture of the world that is just
around the corner. It predicts that water
shortages will become more frequent. And
their effects will be more widespread and
more severe.
Helicopter skims along top of water.
The notion of water as a free good, available
in essentially limitless quantities, will
have disappeared
throughout much of the world.
DEFOCUS CAMERA.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

442

DISSOLVE
143

EXT. WATER - CLOSE UP

DEFOCUSED ECU of water. REFOCUS and ZOOM back to frame water
fountain in front of Metropolitan Water Department in Los
Angeles.
It's a terrifying prospect. Those who
promote technology as a magical solution for
all our problems may someday successfully
convince the policy makers that every facet
of human life and the environment can be
conveniently figured
into a cost-benefit ratio.
144

EXT. WASHINGTON - ESTABLISHING SHOT

Shots of homeless against backdrop of reflecting pool beneath
Washington Monument in D.C.
In such a scenario, clean water for the poor
and minorities will somehow not be as
important as clean water for the well-to-do
and white.
145

EXT. FIELD - MEDIUM SHOT

GROUND LEVEL SHOT of field being irrigated.
Agriculture's need for water will somehow
outweigh the right of a stream to run free.
146

INT. LAB - MEDIUM SHOT

Table-top DOLLY of scientists testing water in lab.
Scientists and bureaucrats will suddenly
discover that a certain predictable amount of
cancer in the water supply is
cost-efficient and tolerable in our growing,
vibrant society.
147

EXT. CITY STREET - ESTABLISHING SHOT

CARL POPE walks along sidewalk in a nice suburban area. Behind
him we see rows of nicely manicured lawns being watered. CAMERA
DOLLIES with him as he walks.
CARL POPE

Tyranny of the Downbeat

443

We know, or should know, that the era of
cheap water, like the era of cheap energy, is
over.
CAMERA ends DOLLY and ZOOMS to follow as POPE crosses a lawn and
kneels beside a water faucet.
It was nice while it lasted. This assumption
that a turn of the faucet handle would
produce pure water in boundless quantity.
But that time is gone. Economics will
control the
future of water. And those with money will
have it.
He turns the faucet handle and there is no water, just a few drops.
CAMERA ZOOMS into an ECU of the dripping water.
MUSIC:

UP FULL THEN OUT

BREAK POINT IN DOCUMENTARY
John Anthony Borba flew into Santa Barbara on his way to a
fund-raiser in Los Angeles.

It was time to stoke the fires; to

crank it up a notch to counter the publicity that the beating in
Mendota had caused.

Both John Anthony and Santiago were

beginning to show signs of battle fatigue.

Tony's anger was just

a sign of his frustration.
"You know what's so hilarious about this project?
collaboration of a bunch of goddamned 'do-gooders'.
sixties-type revolutionaries.

It's a

Naive,

They think they can change the

world with a song and a few heartfelt images."
"A classic case of a little knowledge being a dangerous
thing.

Long on fiction and short on facts."

"They really don't know who they're going after.
they've got to get them."
"The establishment, they say.

Just like before."

Just that

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444

"The problem is they have no idea what they're talking
about.

They're taking a little surface knowledge, adding some

transitions, linking unfounded accusations and innuendos, and
using the power of the media to present it as truth."
"They have good intentions."
"And those good intentions are getting people damaged.
irresponsible journalism.

It's

It's misinformed, prejudicial."

"Is it any different than what we're doing, and have been
doing?"
"At least we've got politicians and public officials behind
us."
"They say they've got public opinion.

And if they can get

the people to take time to look a little more closely at us and
our affairs, they will have succeeded.
the scrutiny.

We certainly don't need

That always means money."

"But we know the masses better than he does."
"I'd say he's done pretty well predicting what they like."
"For entertainment.

For fantasy, not reality.

think they'll listen to him.
he does very seriously."
"Let's make sure."

I don't

I don't think they'll take anything

Tyranny of the Downbeat

445
CHAPTER 30

We do what only lovers can
-- Leonard Cohen

...

make a gift out of necessity.

You have to wake up a virgin every morning.
-- Jean-Louis Barrault
The Ralston Water Festival began in 1910 in celebration of
the founding of the Ralston Irrigation District.
over the July 4th weekend every year since.

It's been held

It was a great

party, combining the best of Independence Day, county fairs, and
a company picnic.

There was a parade, a carnival, floral

displays, crafts, food booths, music, a softball game, and other
contests for "children of all ages" as the carny barker liked to
remind us.

I looked forward to it each year, hoping I could

finally win the over-35 three-legged race or the horse with a
clock in its belly; the one I had spent five years and nearly a
hundred dollars trying to win at the carnival concession that
combined pinball and horse-racing.
The production had shut down for the week-end and most
everyone had dispersed for the three-day weekend.

I stayed, and

so did Pat, although the long weekend would have allowed him a
quick trip home.

Sandy decided to stay away, not surprisingly,

so I invited Laura to join us.
I picked her up and we met Pat at the parade, which started
at City Hall, on the eastern edge of town, and wound its way up
Dewey Avenue and then down John Muir Boulevard to the river and
Legion Park.

The parade included local merchants advertising

their business, Laotian and Cambodian societies, Hispanic

Tyranny of the Downbeat

446

equestrians, Shriners, and car clubs.

Local notables included

the queens of fruit and flower, as well as councilmen and local
mayors.

This year's marshal was John Anthony Borba.

The day was so hot the black asphalt was molten.

Car seats

were too hot to sit on and the air didn't move at all.

But there

was to much fun to be had to let old sol slow you down.

It was a

day of too much chicken and too many beers.

Having failed at

winning the race or the horse, I hit the bricks.
boy.

I was one tired

Pat and Laura decided to stick around for the fireworks.

I

said adios and cast my best sidelong glance at Pat, then said to
Laura, "I suppose you'll find a ride home?"
crooked "What the fuck?" smile.

He just gave me that

I packed up my sun-fried brain

and headed for the parking lot.
As the sun began to drop, they spread out a blanket on a
rise near the road.

The river swirled below.

Most of the

festivities had moved to the main hall--where the dance would
be--and the grandstands--where the kids waited for the
pyrotechnics.

Pat lay on his back, staring up through the trees

at the deep purple sky and the scatter of stars.
her knees tightly held under her chin.

They both felt good,

actually relaxed for the first time in weeks.
had helped.
as much.

Laura sat with

The wine and beer

But it was probably the easiness and security just

Whatever it was, Pat reached over suddenly and touched

her back.

She flinched, then shivered, before looking over.

They were both running on impulse now.
kissed him.

She leaned down and

He pulled her on top of him and they kissed until

they couldn't breath.

She pushed him away and rolled off onto

Tyranny of the Downbeat

her back.

447

He reached for her again, she stood and began brushing

the dead grass off her back.
"I think we'd better go."

The fear was back.

She just

didn't trust herself.
Pat pulled out of the lot as the fireworks erupted behind
them.

He could see them reflecting on her face.
He walked her to the front door to say goodnight and make

sure she was safe.
anymore.

Like most of us, he wasn't too good at this

And especially now, since he'd been married and out of

the game for so long.

We were always afraid we'd blow it, so we

were never aggressive at that critical moment.
light was on, we'd never see it.
red.

If the green

And we certainly never ran a

And yet, he wanted her to know he was interested.

wanted to be more than a colleague.

He

It was enough that it was a

bad idea, but the high schooler was also toying with his resolve.
They stood in the doorway We stood in the doorway, like
kids, waiting for the other to make a move so they wouldn't be
embarrassed if it was the wrong one.

He took her hand and

stepped forward to kiss her on the cheek.
friends.
care.

Innocent, chaste, good

They hugged, but he didn't let go.

She didn't seem to

Impulsively, he put both hands on her soft butt and pulled

her towards him.

He flashed on proms and dances with chaperones

and dancing so close you could feel her crack below the layers of
skirt and little girl panty-hose.

As you'd dance, providing the

teacher didn't come by with a ruler to separate you, you'd dance
closer, working tighter, until you could feel yourself wedged
into that crack.

It was called "dry fucking" and he was doing it

Tyranny of the Downbeat

448

now, standing still.
They still hadn't kissed.

Then she pulled him just inside

the door, closing it, and lifted one leg up and pressed against
him.

He lifted her skirt, reaching inside her panties, down her

butt, and into her cunt from behind.
finally kissed.

Tooth to tooth, tongue to tongue.

her inside and into the bedroom.
undressing.

Back-door man.

They
He followed

There was no time for slow

He wanted to look just for a moment, as she stood

there, street light on her hair, flat stomach, ripe breasts.
She lay down on her back and he lay on top of her.
Desperately naked, he slipped off to one side and held her back
and butt against him, kissing her neck and ears and hair.

He

cupped her breast, then brushed back and forth lightly over the
nipples until they became taut.

He lifted her top leg, and with

her still backed up to me, he began rubbing his prick against her
ass and cunt.

She was warm and softly furry.

To break the

rhythm, he slipped inside of her, deep, and then out again.
Playing.

Taunting.

her back again.

He slid down her side, as she lay flat on

He began kissing her breasts and nipples.

Biting and sucking, twirling his tongue slowly around and around
the nipple.

He started finger-fucking her with one hand, while

the other worked up and down between the back of her cunt and her
asshole.
Celibate for too long, they were both too far gone to
continue foreplay.

He asked her to turn over on her stomach and

raised her up on her hands and knees, while his fingers continued
massaging.

On his knees behind her, he started rubbing her butt

Tyranny of the Downbeat

and teasing her.
her breath.

449

Slowly, he slid inside.

She moaned and caught

He pushed easily until it felt like he was touching

the back of her stomach.
began moving with him.

He began sliding in and out and she
He reached for one of her breasts as it

dangled free and reached under and along her belly, rubbing her
as they moved.
her.

She reached back with one hand and felt him inside

The faster they moved, the higher her butt lifted into the air,

until they were banging hard against each other and pounding inside.
She fell forward, face-down, biting the cotton sheets as he collapsed
on top of her, heavy breath against her neck and hair.
There is a character, the gypsy's daughter, in Tennessee
Williams' play "Camino Real."

She is a whore.

But she feels, in

her heart, that with each moonrise, she is a virgin.
morning, the summer sun is an optimist.
bright and innocent, safe and right.

And, in the

It makes all the world

As it poured through the

breakfast room window, it was very warm and comforting.

Patrick

felt like a lizard on a rock, sunning himself and waiting.
kissed his upturned face, warm from the light.
across from him and smiled.
even the paper.

Laura

She sat down

The sun, her face, the breakfast,

It was all very domestic.

And he loved it.

that moment in time, reality was on vacation.

At

There was no

death, no threats, no wife, no nothing.
"You know how easy this is?," Laura asked over the top of
her coffee cup.
"I can guess."

He looked back, then away.

"I'm sure I'm getting way ahead of myself, but do you know
how impossible this would have been if you'd been someone else?

Tyranny of the Downbeat

450

If you weren't involved with what I'm doing?"
"You know it usually works the other way?"
"No kidding.

It still might.

peeked in through the back door.
I'm crazy.

Just ask my ex."
"Or my mother.

Reality

She'll think

Again."

"Aren't parents wonderful?
think of all this?

I wonder what my father would

If I was talking to him."

"How long's it been?"
"Thirteen years.

Ever since I married Diane."

reel the words back in, but they're gone.

He tries to

They're on the table.

"Sorry."
Laura looks down at them and then out the window.
hits her full in the face and she squints.
"Ask your mother.

"Why?"

Is she so different?"

She reaches across and touches his hand.
just you and me.
reality later.

The sun

"Right now, it's

Let's get through this battle and face the
We're going to need all the energy and support we

can get."
He nods and drinks his coffee, she looks hard at her
reflection in the window.
compromises.

Too many expectations.

And not enough

That's why marriages don't last anymore.

People

are too ready to bail out and blame it on irreconcilable
differences.

That's what Laura was thinking as she wondered if

it would last, or turn bad like the rest.

She and Pat really

seemed to have something going; a real strong beginning.
then

...

But

Maybe she was overreacting.

Laura's first and only husband was handsome, selfish and

Tyranny of the Downbeat

uncaring.

451

The type of man all women seem to alternately idolize

and despise.

They had dated in high school, married in college.

The couple voted most likely to marry.

Once out of college, and

after a few years working in San Francisco, he convinced her to
return to Ralston.

With comfortable jobs and a cozy house, too

few friends and too much family, the marriage started to show the
cracks that had been transparent in San Francisco.
on a number of affairs and, eventually, left her.
house.
friends.

He got his freedom.

She got the cat.

Thankfully, there were no children.

He embarked
She got the

He got the
It made the

divorce much less complicated, though no less painful.

They

still saw each other around town and attended the same
professional and social functions.

But they'd cut each other

pretty deep, so their interaction remained pretty business-like.
Ralston was a romantic desert; a vast wasteland for a single
woman seeking eligible men.

If they were the least bit

intelligent or attractive, they were probably married.
they were too young, other times too arrogant.
she didn't want to be around them.

Sometimes

Most of the time

Sure there would never be

anyone for her, and not really caring anyway, she became an
emotional desperado.

She was determined to get over it and to

have a damn good time in the process.
Started smoking again.

She drank too much.

Stayed out too late.

Slept with anyone

who smiled and offered a kind word because, as the song says,
"The boys all get sexier at closing time."
Before she strayed too far into the sexual DMZ, her sister
and a few close friends convinced her to take the job in

Tyranny of the Downbeat

Washington.

452

It was good for her career, but no better for her

emotional life.

When she returned to Ralston, she finally went

into therapy and tried to work through her feelings of rejection
and worthlessness.

The sessions were going well.

be regaining control.

Then she met Billie.

"Typical," she thought, cruel as it was.

She seemed to

And then,

...

"I finally find someone

and he disappears."
And now there was this man sitting at her breakfast table.
And what's worse, he was a colleague.

Love and careers don't

seem to mix any better than money and family.

In both cases, it

was always better to keep business business and friends friends.
She knew that, but she was attracted to Pat anyway, despite her
own cynical misgivings.
really felt possible.

Maybe she was kidding herself, but it
Maybe she was just seeing things; reading

intentions into his actions.

After all, she was still on the

rebound, probably too shattered and damaged to know any better.
Besides, like so many other times, he was married.
working together.

And they were

And it doesn't get much worse than that.

She thought back to that first meeting, when she came to
offer her help to Elliot.
office in Ralston.

And the second time, at the field

There was a disinterest the first time.

The second was more of a fencing match.
was there.

The physical attraction

But the distrust, the territoriality, and the fear

was stronger.

He was courteous, even chivalrous.

actually held the chair for her.
the one next to it.
She got angry.

And he

Which she refused, sitting in

She was flattered, but cautious.

Then confused.

He smiled.

Then the meeting started.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

453

After that, she spent some time reviewing her reaction and
the emotions that had caused her to withdraw.

She had always

been self-sufficient, free-thinking, independent.

All her life.

Most people considered that one of her strengths.

It had been a

struggle to maintain her self-worth with her first husband, but
they had both survived, with a few nicks and bruises.
honestly felt relationships should be equal.
people striding through life arm-in-arm.
hadn't been real successful.
friends.

Partners.

Two

But that attitude

Not for her; not for most of her

So maybe it was time to try something else.

the pages.

She

Turn back

Consider trying it the way it was before she'd taken

up arms in the "sexual revolution."
Of course her mother wouldn't be anywhere near supportive on
this one.
family.

Especially not now.

At least he was from a good

That was important to her mother.

Hell, the man could

be a felon, but if he had the right lineage any indiscretion
could be excused.
Laura could rationalize everything away except for the fact
that he was married.
No pain, no gain.
was running out.

And happily, so it seemed.

What the hell.

The biological clock was ticking away.

Time

There was a certain desperation in the air.

She wanted a family and she refused to be a single parent.
was looking for a man.

She

And this one had all the qualifications.

The assault force began working its way into the building as
people started arriving for work.

They looked and acted like

everyone else driving in from the outskirts of Sacramento:

Tyranny of the Downbeat

454

lifers working in the service of the Golden State.

Instead of

memos and apples, their briefcases and lunch bags were carrying
plastic gloves, walkie-talkies, tranquilizer guns, and assault
tools.

Security wasn't too tight because there really wasn't

anything of real value in the building.
they took up their positions.
to prepare for the assault.

As the morning faded,

Some to protect the rear, others
Their target continued to hum

mindlessly and efficiently one floor below.
The Operations Control Center is closed to the public, but
it's easy to get to because there's no reason to suspect anyone
would want to.

But it had become a symbol to these trespassers.

A symbol of the power elite who controlled this vital resource.
And the ones who didn't.

The ones denied this resource.

ones now preparing to make this symbolic strike.

The

They wanted the

public and their elected officials to know they were angry,
frustrated, and serious.
The first tear gas canister filled the entryway, allowing
the twenty men of the primary assault force to easily overcome
the few employees on duty during the lunch hour.

It was obvious

the men heading for the control room knew where they were going.
They began punching up codes to change the flow of water
throughout the entire state.

They weren't going to waste any.

Just going to move it around a little.
the members of The League get the water.

Let someone other than
By holding back just

enough, they could destroy many of the crops sitting in the
fields, thirsting.

If reason wouldn't work, maybe economic and

ecologic terrorism would.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

455

They were gone before the alarm was even sounded.

They

melted back into the faceless phalanx of civil servants.

By the

time order was restored, millions of dollars of this precious
natural resource had been siphoned off and untold millions of
crops had been destroyed.

The Combine would not be shipping its

surplus cotton right away, nor would DiGiulio harvest the
expected tonnages of grapes.

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456
CHAPTER 31

The basis of optimism is sheer terror.
-- Oscar Wilde
Sleep faster. We need the pillows.
-- Yiddish Proverb
Elliot heard the news on KCBS on his way home.
"This bulletin just in from Sacramento.

Our state capitol

bureau chief has the details."
"We have just been informed that an unidentified group of
men stormed the Operations Control Center of the State Water
Project near the capitol building this afternoon.

The intruders

gagged and bound the employees and re-routed the flow of water
throughout the state.

In a pre-recorded videotape communique, a

group calling itself "the John Muir Brigade" has claimed
responsibility."
It felt like someone had just punched him in the stomach.
He pulled off the road and turned up the volume.
"To our knowledge, this is the first recorded incident of
'environmental terrorism' to occur in the United States.

We

should have more details later in the hour."
He wasn't sure what to do next.
anything.

Or even if he wanted to do

Maryanne had told him many times.

to believe her.

He just didn't want

He was too naive, too trusting.

He always gave

people the benefit of the doubt until it was too late.

People

were always taking advantage of him, manipulating him,
controlling him.

And they had just done it again.

him to get media exposure.

They had used

Tyranny of the Downbeat

457

He took refuge in what he knew.
Redford in "The Candidate."

He thought of Robert

Redford had played an idealist

manipulated by the reality of politics.

Someone whose ideals

were very slowly compromised, until they were no longer
recognizable.

He had lost his way.

Lost the truth.

Lost the

focus of his vision.
Elliot wasn't about to let that happen to him.

Would he be

compromised, or would he maintain his vision, disassociate
himself, and continue the quest?
beheld.

Ironic.

He had become what he

He had become one of the mythological heroes he had made

so many movies about.
journey.

He was at the crisis point of his own

The supreme ordeal was at hand, staring him straight in

the face.

While Elliot felt betrayed, the rest of us were shocked and
concerned.

Especially me.

I had given them the opening.

It was

this kind of maverick behavior we had tried hard to discourage,
because people might think we were behind it.

And that could

irreparably damage our progress and credibility.
The other side obviously thought the same because it didn't
take them long to let their opinion be known.

In a video press

release, they linked the terrorists directly to us, claiming
that, as fellow-travelers and "card-carrying" members of the
counter-culture, we had the money and the motive to promote this
kind of behavior.
Elliot was subdued as we put the finishing touches to our
response statement.

He startled me.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

458

"Looks like someone's trying to turn the tables."
"The John Muir Brigade?"
"It's a 1988 version of the original Vigilance Committees.
With a twist.

Back in 1850 and 1856, the first Vigilantes were

organized to stop crime and anarchy.

You know why?"

"Because people were getting killed."
"Partly.

But it was really because it was bad for business.

The Vigilance Committees were made up of merchants and land
owners."
"Crime in the streets didn't help cash in the coffers."
"Some of the time, the merchants used the vigilantes as
their own weapon against organized labor.
they were the law.

For a period of time,

They took over the duties of government,

defied the Governor, held trials, and had their own army.

The

vigilante tradition is an important part of the California
businessman's heritage."
"And it probably wouldn't take them long to resurrect the
committee if anarchy threatened."
"Not long at all.

Except someone beat them to the punch.

In reverse."
"Guess we'll have to start running twice as hard now just to
stay in the game."
"The other side certainly won't let the media or public
forget it right away.

They'll keep hammering away."

"Who's to say they didn't set it up just to pin it on us?"
"I think it's time to turn up the heat.

I was willing to

settle for showing the public what was happening without naming

Tyranny of the Downbeat

any names.

459

But that's changed now.

Time to go for the throat."

That night, excerpts from the terrorist communique led into
every national and local news broadcast, as everyone began
exploring and explaining the newest pop culture buzz-word:
"environmental terrorism".

It was becoming a familiar scene.

The old, iron, ice-making

apparatus framing the hi-tech conference table.
around the table had grown considerably.

But the numbers

Laura was official.

So

was Michael Olbrantz, who had followed her lead shortly after the
encounter with Delancy.

They sat there, discussing past cases

and reviewing precedents, looking for the hook they needed.
Laura and Michael had done most of the digging, but they had asked
Carl Pope, Marc Reisner, and Tim Palmer--those who knew and might
soon be on the stand--to contribute their accumulated hours of
research and experience.

They all knew there would be a suit

brought and a court battle, or at least an injunction to keep the
program from airing.

Walsh, Devereaux, and I were there to make

sense of the legalese first-hand.
--Western

"Why is it that none of the major chemical

companies, or farming corporations, have ever been prosecuted for
polluting our drinking water?"
--Laura
and experts.

"Successful prosecution requires expensive lawyers
Volumes of scientific research and information.

And it always ends up in court.

In protracted, burdensome, and

expensive litigation."
--Walsh

"So, justice is only for the few who can pay the

Tyranny of the Downbeat

460

high costs of pursuing a case to the end?"
--Michael

"Or at least presenting a credible threat of

doing so."
--Devereaux

"So it's an endless cycle.

To get the rich,

you have to be as wealthy as they are?"
--Laura

"The problem is, even if you have the money, you

might not win.

For many kinds of medical and economic damage,

current legal doctrine makes it virtually impossible for those
injured by toxic waste or chemical contamination to collect for
their damages."
--Devereaux

"Haven't some independent farmers and some of

the farming combines been taken to court?

Sued for negligence?

for willfully destroying a natural resource?

I mean, it's not

any different than cutting down redwoods or spilling oil off our
coasts."
--Pope

"Yes, people have been taken to court.

But the

results haven't been encouraging."
--Walsh

"High-paid corporate lawyers outgunning

bureaucrats?"
--Laura

"Partly that.

But mostly, it's that environmental

law is still uncharted territory.

And groundwater protection is

a relatively new environmental issue."
--Michael

"There is no developed body of law, established

institutions, or formal administrative policies and procedures.
Laws, institutions, and policies are developing at the federal
level and in many states.
--Laura

But at varying rates and degrees."

"What about the superfund?

Any grounds for

Tyranny of the Downbeat

461

recovery there?"
--Carl Pope

"Well, the superfund law of liability is

pretty weak when it comes to the chances for financial recovery
for those who suffered."
--Marc Reisner

"Especially in those cases where no private

party can be found to bear the liability."
--Carl Pope

"That's right.

The final version of the

superfund prohibits most victims from recovering damages from the
fund."
--Marc Reisner

"Except maybe for costs of relocation and

water-supply replacement."
--Michael

"So, out-of-pocket medical expenses, any wages

lost because of related illnesses, reduced property values, or
pain and suffering can only be redressed by private litigation?"
--Carl Pope

"And that kind of prosecution, even against a

defendant who could be found and held legally liable, is
pretty unrealistic."
--Michael

"And, as we all know, successful prosecution

requires expensive attorneys and experts, compilation of tomes of
scientific information."
--Western

"Is it really necessary to have a lawyer, or can

a private citizen represent him or herself?"
--Michael

"Although an attorney isn't essential for citizens to

bring a lawsuit, it's usually advisable to have one.
Historically, unrepresented citizens have rarely been successful
in litigation.

Environmental lawsuits are complex.

Even an

experienced attorney frequently resorts to legal references for

Tyranny of the Downbeat

462

substantive, procedural, or strategic advice."
--Devereaux
apprehended.
--Michael

"Now I know some companies have been

What's happened in the past?"
"Most of these companies' defense has been that,

however bad their practices were, they were established and
standard at the time."
--Laura

"And a lot of the others that were found

responsible for contamination frequently escaped through
bankruptcy courts."
--Western

"If you were able to build a case against a

corporation, what are the realistic chances you could
successfully prosecute them for criminal negligence?"
--Laura

"If there was sufficient evidence that could prove

negligence beyond a reasonable doubt, I think there would be a
very good possibility for successful prosecution."
--Walsh
--Michael

"What type of penalties might be assessed?"
"In one landmark case in Massachusetts in 1986,

several families filed a personal-injury suit in the U.S.
district court in Massachusetts.

They were hoping to prove that

several deaths and illnesses in their families had been caused by
pollution of the local drinking water contaminated by local
factories owned by two major corporations.

It was the first

personal-injury case to come before a jury."
--Walsh
--Michael

"Was there a favorable verdict?"
"The jury awarded huge damages to the plaintiffs.

At the same time, a federal grand jury was also investigating
criminal charges that some company officials had lied to the

Tyranny of the Downbeat

463

EPA about the quantities of toxics they had dumped."
--Walsh

"Anything come of that investigation?"

--Michael

"It is still in court.

another case that was tried in Spain.

I would like to mention
A class action suit

brought by the citizens of an entire town against a corporation.
The corporation had manufactured and sold a product that was
supposed to be cooking oil but was actually kerosene.

Several

people died and many others are still suffering the
after-effects.

If convicted, the officers of the corporation

could spend up to twenty-five years in jail and could be fined up
to $100,000.00 each."
--Walsh

"The penalties can be severe, then?"

--Western

"Can we actually prosecute the officers of a

corporation, or the board of directors?"
--Devereaux

"They are the decision makers.

The rest are

just employees."
--Laura

"And because they take the lion's share of the

profits, because they write the bylaws, because they make the
decisions that affect the company, they should also have the
burden of the liability."
--Devereaux

"They're making the ultimate decision, not the

manager at the plant.

Sure, they're listening to

recommendations, but they're making the call.
--Laura

No one else is."

"But there must be sufficient hard evidence that

proves negligence beyond a reasonable doubt.
case has to be absolutely air-tight.

And that means the

Any holes and the lawyers

for these corporations, some of whom are the best in the world,

Tyranny of the Downbeat

464

would cut the plaintiff to pieces."
--Devereaux

"What about reckless endangerment?

How is

this any different than the drunk who plows his pick-up into a
school bus and kills twenty kids?"
--Laura

"Maybe no different."

--Devereaux

"I mean the drunk knowingly puts himself, and

anybody else on the highway, at risk, endangered by his drinking
and driving."
--Western

"And the chemical companies knowingly produce

toxins."
--Devereaux

"And the farmers knowingly apply them.

And the

politicians and officials knowingly let them get away with it.
Even cover it up if necessary."
--Walsh

"The drunk gets twenty life sentences with no

possibility for parole, maybe even the death sentence.

Why

shouldn't the others?"
--Western

"What about Bhopal?

--Devereaux
--Walsh

Think it might help us?"

"If it ever gets settled."

"Wasn't the chairman just arrested on criminal

charges?"
--Devereaux

"And released on bail shortly after that?"

--Western

"Have we got anything there we can use?"

--Michael

"Let's see.

$3.3 billion in civil damages.

civil liability trial in India.

Criminal homicide charges field

in India."
--Laura

A

"There's a laundry list of charges.

Fraud,

misrepresentation, suppression of facts, interference with

Tyranny of the Downbeat

465

business relations, failure to provide warnings, strict
liability, breach of warranty, breach of implied warranty of
merchantability, breach of implied warranty of fitness, and bad
faith."
I exhaled for everyone.
--Michael
--Laura

"The liability case hinges on defective design."
"There was a 1986 Supreme Court of India decision

that declared corporations running hazardous operations
automatically liable when any injuries occurred as a result of
accidents."
--Michael

"Most people expect that once a cash settlement

is reached, the criminal charges will be dropped."
--Laura

"Public interest groups want the cash settlement

and a criminal trial leading to punitive damages."
--Michael

"When we mention punitive damages we're accepting

a five- to ten-year trial.

That is why some people are lobbying

to settle the civil case then move to criminal proceedings."
--Devereaux
--Laura
symbol.

"Justice delayed is justice denied."

"A lot of opposition groups see this trial as a

As a way to end the humanly and environmentally

degrading practices of multinationals in third world countries.
A way to stop their callous attitude toward industrial safety and
environmental pollution."
--Western
--Devereaux
--Michael
worried.

"Industrial genocide."
"Death by oversight."
"The U.S. attorney for Carbide doesn't seem too

It is predicted the trial will take place in India.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

466

However, all evidence of a willful act is in documents in the
United States."
--Laura

"He's also said repeatedly that the company has the

patience and due process devices to prolong the trial
indefinitely."
--Devereaux
however.

"The Indian people may have the last laugh,

In their traditional criminal law, they have sanctions

where you atone publicly.
karma.

It comes from the Hindu belief in

If you do not atone, you return to life in an inferior

form."
--Western

"A cockroach."

--Walsh

"A flea."

--Laura

"A rat."

--Michael

"A politician."

--Devereaux

"A lawyer."

Laughter came easily when things

got too serious.
--Western

"So what you're telling me is that unless we

can find the weapon with their fingerprints on it, we're in for a
long trial with no sure outcome?"
--Walsh

"Part of living in a free society, cowboy."

--Laura

"We may have a precedent we haven't explored yet."

--Western
--Laura

"And that is?"
"The one time the Bureau of Reclamation used its

power against the rich farmers it helped to make."
--Devereaux

"You mean they actually got off their fat

bureaucratic BuRec asses and busted one of the big farmers?"
--Laura

"It was The DiGiorgio Corporation of Southern

Tyranny of the Downbeat

California.

467

At one time, they were growing more tomatoes on

their lands than any other state, with the exception of Florida.
They were among the first 'farmers,' and I use that term loosely,
to receive water from the Central Valley Project."
--Devereaux

"The rest of the 'farmers,' and I use the term

laughingly, included Southern Pacific, the largest private
landowner in California, Standard Oil, Richfield Oil Company,
ANDCO, and the J.G. Boswell Ranch Company."
--Western

"Those are some of the biggest farming combines

in the valley."
--Laura

"As I was saying, the Bureau proved that DiGiorgio

had been falsifying records about the number of acres they had
under cultivation and that they were receiving subsidized water
for."
--Western
--Laura
holdings.

"So they were receiving illegal subsidies?"
"Exactly.

And the Bureau simply broke up their

Made them divest some of the land if they wanted to

keep getting subsidized water."
--Devereaux

"Which they couldn't do and still survive.

Especially a water-intensive crop like tomatoes."
--Western

"So the Bureau made an example of them, probably

to take the heat off their own backs?"
--Laura

"What that means is we might be able to use this

case as a precedent to go after DiGiulio's lands and the rest of
the factory farms?"
--Devereaux

"Anything that would cause any kind of

financial harm is worth checking out."

Tyranny of the Downbeat

--Carl Pope
--Western
--Laura

468

"What about the Birth Prevention Act of 1984?"
"What's that?"

"A California law that requires testing of all

pesticides in California for possible links to birth defects,
cancer, sterility, or other health problems."
--Western

"That certainly hits home for Elliot."

--Marc Reisner
--Laura

"What about Proposition 65?"

"Ah, yes.

Enforcement Act of 1986.'

The 'Safe Drinking Water and Toxics
It prohibits the discharge of certain

chemicals into actual, or potential, sources of drinking water."
--Devereaux

"Prop 65 was passed by a California public

worried about the future.

A state frightened by the findings of

Love Canal and other toxic disasters.

Worried about the purity

of the air they were breathing and the water they were drinking."
--Michael
know.

"Its power is based on the public's right to

It stipulated explicit, precedent-setting enforcement

procedures.

It put the burden of proof on the person, or

company, charged.

It provided two ways to charge violations.

Through official channels, litigated by government officials, or
through a citizen's lawsuit."
--Walsh

"A bounty system."

--Laura

"Some call it that.

If a government prosecutor

fails to act within 60 days, the citizen stands to collect 25% of
any penalty."
--Western

"Sounds exactly like something we could use."

--Michael

"Except that it's a bureaucratic and regulatory

nightmare.

Any kind of precise definition is nearly impossible."

Tyranny of the Downbeat

469

--Walsh

"So where does that leave us?"

--Laura

"Well, let's step back a moment and look at a

broader issue.

One that's maybe a little political.

federal or states' rights issue?
recognize any state lines.
--Carl Pope

Is this a

The groundwater doesn't

Who has responsibility here?"

"According to Marion Mlay, director of the

EPA's Office of Groundwater Protection, it's a states' rights
issue.

She says the states are responsible because they have the

laws that directly protect groundwater."
--Marc Reisner

"Pretty much all land-use policies and

resources are considered state-controlled."
--Michael

"There is a precedent.

At least in California.

In 1983, the State Supreme Court ruled that the 'public trust'
values of Mono Lake's unique ecosystem must be balanced against
Los Angeles' need for Mono water.
--Devereaux

Los Angeles is appealing."

"What are the chances this issue could get lost

between federal and state jurisdictions?"
--Laura

"We would have to be very careful about that.

If

we bring a civil case, it would be prosecuted at the state level
because the states control their water."
--Western

"What does a civil case buy us?"

--Michael

"In a civil case, we can sue for damages and an

injunction.

A 'cease and desist' order."

--Devereaux
--Walsh

"To stop spraying certain chemicals?"

"That would create all kinds of problems and

uncertainty for the growers."
--Devereaux

"Just what they love best."

Tyranny of the Downbeat

--Western
--Laura

470

"What about a criminal case?"
"That is more difficult.

We need someone at the

state prosecutor's office who would be willing to prosecute."
--Michael

"What about a more basic issue.

concept of water rights."
to read:

The whole

He flips through some pages and begins

"A water right is permission to use water for one or

more reasonable and beneficial purpose.

The standard of

'reasonable and beneficial' use requires that water be put to
beneficial uses without waste or unreasonable method of use."
He stops reading.

"The 'reasonable and beneficial' standard is

not rigidly defined or fixed in law."
--Laura

"So might be able to use it to fix liability based

on misuse?"
--Devereaux
--Laura

"It's a starting point."

"Along with riparian rights.

You can use the water

on your land any way you like as long as it doesn't infringe on
someone's downstream rights."
--Devereaux

"That's how they got it in the first place and

that's how they'll lose it."
--Michael
doctrine?

"What if we combine both of those with another

The old English law doctrine of 'Public Trust.'

The

idea that a state is required to hold in trust for future
generations the values associated with certain resources,
including the purity of its groundwater?"
The entire group looked around the room from one to the
other and began to smile.
they could work with.

They seemed to have found something

Tyranny of the Downbeat

471
CHAPTER 32

I took off for a weekend last month
Just to try and recall the whole year
All of the faces and all of the places
Wonderin' where they all disappeared
I didn't ponder the question too long
I was hungry and went out for a bite
Ran into a chum with a bottle of rum
And we wound up drinkin' all night
It's those changes in latitudes
Changes in attitudes
Nothin' remains quite the same
With all of our running
And all of our cunning
If we couldn't laugh
We would all go insane
Reading departure signs in some big airport
Reminds me of the places I've been
Visions of good times that brought so much pleasure
Make me want to go back again
If it suddenly ended tomorrow
I could somehow adjust to the fall
Good times and riches and son of a bitches
I've seen more than I can recall
I think about Paris when I'm high on red wine
I wish I could jump on a plane
So many nights I just dream of the ocean
God I wish I was sailing again
Oh, yesterday's are over my shoulder
So I can't look backward too long
There's too much to see waiting in front of me
And I know I just can't go on
With these changes in latitudes
Changes in attitudes
Nothin' remains quite the same
With all of my running
And all of my cunning
If I couldn't laugh
I just would go insane
If we couldn't laugh
We just would go insane
If we weren't all crazy
We would just go insane

Tyranny of the Downbeat

472

-- J. Buffet, "Changes in Attitudes, Changes in Latitudes"
I'm not sure why women find me easy to talk to.

Perhaps

it's because I really care about them, about what they have to
say.

Or because I'm usually attracted to them at first because

of who they are, not how they look.

Maybe I'm not a threat.

Whatever the reason, they've always confided in me, always been
able to open up.

So over the years I've generally been the

sounding board for failing marriages and shaky relationships.
Why my own wife never felt that way I'll never know.

But then I

probably brought some barriers to most of those conversations.
Though I was definitely considered part of "the other sex",
I remember having many "I hate men" conversations with my women
friends.

To some, we were insensitive.

We didn't respect them.
ambitions and success.

All we wanted was sex.

We felt threatened by their own
We couldn't be faithful.

We were selfish,

which to some I was, and juvenile, which I also plead
guilty to.

We were fags or animals.

Given a choice they felt,

we would choose doing something else instead of doing something
with them.

Certainly, all of us were guilty of one or many of

these crimes.

But the vehemence, the depth of their anger,

sometimes startled me.

Yes, to be upset and frustrated because

we exhibited these attitudes was one thing, but to hate us for
them I felt was a little extreme.
Often we talked about the unending and unsatisfying search
for our "soul mate," the perfect match.

But such an attitude

begins with expectation, shades into anticipation, and inevitably

Tyranny of the Downbeat

473

ends in disappointment and frustration.

There is no ideal man,

or woman, because none of us can offer that.

So we would end

most of these conversations with me offering my standard
philosophy of life.

Don't have expectations.

a sense of perspective.

Be flexible.

Keep

And, above all, have a sense of humor.

Don't take it too seriously.

We really aren't that bad on either

side and, in most cases, given an opportunity to show it instead
of being forced to fall back on our traditional roles, we, the
male baby boomers infected by feminism, could be quite caring,
generous, and loving.

Of course, I couldn't speak for the large

number of total assholes lying in wait out there.
And they were assholes.

They existed.

Not even I liked them.

Then it occurs to me that I, too, am looking for something
in Sandy I can't find.

What I think are problems with her may be

my own expectations; my own way of dealing with women sexually
and emotionally, which means it won't change unless, and until, I
do.

So I choose to ignore that voice, that possibility, and

decide to take the path of least resistance, plunging ahead
without looking back at what I may be so casually discarding.
I wonder what it means.
don't like going out anymore.

Maybe it's connected somehow.
I don't like dancing.

I

I like

sitting here, where it's comfortable and the territory is known.
I can have a drink and watch TV.

I don't have to talk to anyone.

I don't have to ask them if the program I'm watching is okay with
them.

It's even better late at night when it's quiet and it's

only me.

And now I find that I don't even like going out for a

walk or a drive in the car.

I avoid it.

I've even begun to shop

Tyranny of the Downbeat

without leaving the house.

474

I use the telephone, the shopping

network, or mail order catalogues.
'Agoraphobia'--morbid fear of (crossing) squares or open
places.

'Agora'--Greek for marketplace.

like Howard Hughes.

'Phobos'--fear.

Just like my mother.

Just

The only way she could

leave the house, or leave her chair towards the end was by having
enough drinks to get up the courage to venture out.

Does it just

creep up on you until you've got it and you don't know you do?
Maybe you never do.

You finally just stop going out.

It seems the things I like to do most now are things I do
alone.

We are really living separate lives; literally when she's

there and I'm here and realistically when we're together.

But we

don't seem to want to acknowledge it so we can cut the other
other loose and set them free to start over again.
resort to my usual defense mechanism.

Instead, I

I try to exorcise the

guilt I'm feeling--for possibly causing all this--by not siding
with her, by not letting her know how I really feel, by pushing
her to this position--by having forced conversations that will
trap her into assuming the blame.

Then I can get pissed off and

hate her so I can somehow deal with it all.

Baby used to stay out
All night long
She made me cry
You know she done me wrong
She hurt my eyes open
And that's no lie
Table's turned and now
It's her turn to cry
But then I used to love her

Tyranny of the Downbeat

475

But it's all over now
But then I used to love her
But it's all over now
-- B. Womack & S. Womack, "It's All Over Now"
I begin this round with a solitary monologue because she's
not ready to talk yet.
it is.)
did.

"Isn't that Michael Bolton?"

"Didn't you say you liked that song?"

(Of course

(Of course she

I know that, but we're trying to communicate here any way

we can.)
In her silent stubbornness, she won't begin, so I do.
you find me attractive?

"Do

Sexually exciting?"

No answer.
"Am I boring?

Predictable?"

Still none.
"Do you respect me?
me anymore?

Who I am?

What I am?

Do you even like

I mean as a friend?"

Without a response, there are no guidelines.
trying to run in quicksand.

It's like

So I shift into gear.

"Are we ever gonna make love again?"
"It'd be nice."
"Should I wear a condom?"
"Excuse me?"

That made contact.

"Look, I'm gone back and forth on the project for a few
months.

I come back and find men's shaving cream in the bathroom.

When was the last time I needed shaving cream?
the nightstand and you're back on the pill.

There are condoms in

Husbands and wives don't

need condoms."
"Why are you always snooping around my stuff?

It's none of

Tyranny of the Downbeat

476

your business."
"Oh, really?

The possibility that my wife's screwing around

isn't any of my business?
looking for something.
found this."
these."

Besides, I wasn't snooping.

I was

I was also looking for something when I

He pushes the Christmas card toward her.

He sets the photos next to the card.

Angry, cornered.

"And

"So, who's Scott?"

"What are you doing going through my

things?"
"They were in my dresser.
some of my stuff away.
"No.

I found them when I was putting

Did you sleep with him?"

He's just one of my bar friends."

"Shit, the guy's in his underwear in our living room.

You

telling me he's dressed like that just for the picture?"
"Look, you told me before that I could go out and find
someone to have sex with since you obviously weren't interested.
So I did."
"I didn't mean it and you know it."
"So why'd you say it?"
"Because I had no other answer.

No alternative.

Neither of

us wanted to see a counselor and I've told you before, it just
isn't that important to me."
"Sex, me, or the marriage?"
"What about Gene?

You ever gonna tell me about him?"

"Gene was just someone I met at the Miramar."
"Was he here at Thanksgiving?"
"No."
"You invited him didn't you?"

Tyranny of the Downbeat

477

"How'd you know?"
"I saw the letters.

All of them."

Lighting a cigarette and taking a drag.
letters.

"Those are private

They are none of your goddamn business."

"God.
business.

We're talking about our marriage and it's none of my
Look, I'm not condemning you.

I just want to know."

"Why?"
"Part of it's justification.
a mistake by forcing the issue.
you to do this.

I need to know I'm not making
I sometimes feel like I drove

That if I'd payed more attention to you and your

needs, this wouldn't have happened."
"That's definitely part of it."
"On the other hand, I feel like I gave you everything I
could.
bad.

That I wasn't totally to blame for our sex life being so
You were partly to blame also."

You see, there was this red flag early in our relationship.
It bothered me a little.

I told her about it, but it slept in

our beds the next fifteen years.

She talked a lot about a former

lover and how good he was in bed.

She'd go on and on about what

they did and how all they had between them was good sex.
else.

Nothing

And she'd talk about how they made love, where they made

love, as if this was supposed to get me more excited so I could
fill this void.
and pull back.

No pun intended or allowed.
She would get confused.

I would get angry

I couldn't get it up

because I figured the yardstick of sexual performance was being
used each time we crawled into bed.
never got better after that.

Then she got pissed.

It

The ghost of this guy was always

Tyranny of the Downbeat

there.

478

And I kept thinking, I can't wait until she tells her

next lover how her last relationship was.
emotional, not sexual.

Purely cerebral,

For his sake, I hoped he only uses the

brains below his belt.
"So, what do you want to do?"
"I want to know what your expectations of this marriage are.
Where do we go from here?

Do we keep it together?

Or try

something new?"
"I don't know.

What do you want?

It's obviously bothering

you, too."
"It is.
it's not.

Some of the time it's good and some of the time

It's getting to be less and less fun.

I mean, we

don't even do things together anymore."
"You don't give me any time to be alone.

To be by myself."

"How about the rest of your life?"
"You're such a bastard!"
"I'm sorry.

I really didn't mean to say that."

"I just don't want to depend on you for anything right now.
I need to take care of some things.

And I can only do that by

myself."
"I don't buy that.

What do you think marriages are for?

What do you think friends are for?
questions.

They're there to help.

No

I mean, you're about to self-destruct and I can't let

you do that."
"Why?

Couldn't stand the guilt?

What would people think?

Your wife kills herself and you're nowhere to be found."
"No, I want to be there.

If it comes down to a choice

Tyranny of the Downbeat

479

between the depression and the dependency, please take the
dependency."
"Where do we go from here?"
"I don't know.
time together.

But I don't want to give up fifteen years of

You don't just throw that out the window.

need something else.

And I think you do, too.

romance in my life, not routine.
me for granted.

But I

I want some

I want someone who doesn't take

Who likes being around me.

Who respects me and

doesn't run me down when they're in a bad mood."
"I don't run you down.
"That's just it.

And, besides, all I do is work."

Stop stressing yourself out.

You're

trying to do too much."
"I need to make the money."
"We'll take it out of savings if we have to.
be making some soon enough.

Besides, I'll

Just stop worrying about the goddamn

money."
"And who'll make it if I don't?

Where's it going to come

from?"
"You know, I was telling Laura that you were stressed out.
You know what she said?"
"What?"
"'Are you surprised?
find stress.'

That's the way she is.

She'll always

That's what she said."

She doesn't answer, but I've just taken another nick out of
her.

And I know it.

I realize that now as we sit not talking.

I told her what Laura had said knowing it would have this effect.
She doesn't want to hear her best friend running her down.

But I

Tyranny of the Downbeat

480

know by doing it that I isolate her just a little more.

I'm

making her more dependent on me by cutting away all her allies.
But that's not what I want.
to have her friends.

I want her independent.

Because if I ever do pack it in, I don't

want her so dependent she can't survive.
cruelly and knowingly doing just that.
more remote.

I want her

I pull away.

wonder she's confused.

And yet, here I am,
And then, I make myself

Make myself more distant.

It's no

No wonder she doesn't trust my motives or

emotions.
"I'm just tired most of the time.

I don't always think

about what I say or do."
"But that's always been the problem.

When you're tired,

when you just react, you're doing what you really feel, deep
down.

The fact is, I think you just see me as a security

blanket.

A convenience.

I think if you could stay married

and have your flings, that's what you'd do."
"And you wouldn't?"
"No, I can't do that.

I'm not wired that way.

It's one or

the other."
"So you're saying it's over."
"I think we're both looking for a fresh start with someone
who doesn't know us, but would like to.

A way to get rid of all

the excess baggage we carry when we're together."
"Is that it?
"No.

Is that what this has become?

I'm just saying the next time I leave, we should both

think about being without the other.
a change.

Baggage?"

To see if it isn't time for

And if it is, then we make it.

If it isn't, we stay

Tyranny of the Downbeat

481

together and work it out."
"What if one of us finds someone and the other doesn't?"
"That's a risk we're gonna have to take.
happen.

Let's not fool ourselves.

And it could

If we're looking, we're going

to find what we're looking for."
"Then I guess that's the way it's meant to be."
"I guess so.

Maybe it's fated."

"And you're willing to give up everything we've built
together, everything we've done together for the past several
years."
"Not easily.
is I'm not happy.
grow old alone.
possibility.

But I don't know what else to do.
Something's missing.

All I know

Hey, I don't want to

And I know if we break up, that's a real

And I don't want to leave this place.

It's

comfortable."
"Maybe that's the problem.
comfortable.

It's comfortable.

We've become

There's no challenge, no excitement."

That was one thing about living in the tropics, whether it
was Los Angeles, Key West, or Honolulu.
atrophy.

It was an invitation to

Too much sun and too little tension made it easy to put

your mind in neutral and coast on the waves.
the drive to survive, relaxed.

The animal instinct,

It became too easy, then it became

expected.
"If it did happen, if we did go our separate ways, could we
stay friends?

Could you do that?

She starts to cry.
this.

I mean others have, could we?"

I think, here it comes.

How can I hate her when she cries.

I can't handle

Tyranny of the Downbeat

482

"Sounds like you've already made a decision.
if I could stay friends.

At least not right away.

I don't know
I think it

would take some time."
Softening, weakening as I always do about this point in
our talks, I reach for her hand.

"Let's at least think about it,

all right?"
She nods.

Once I was a soldier
And I fought on foreign lands for you
Once I was a hunter
And I brought home fresh meat for you
Once I was a lover
And I searched behind your eyes for you
And soon there'll be another
To tell you I was just a lie
And sometimes I wonder
Just for a while
Will you ever remember me
Though you have forgotten
All of our rubbish dreams
I find myself searching
Through the ashes of our rooms
For the days when we smiled
And the hours that ran wild
With a magic of our eyes
And the silence of our words
And sometimes I wonder
Just for a while
Will you ever remember me
Ever remember me
-- T. Buckley, "The Hunter"
Had I seen something?
something?

Heard something?

Smelled or touched

Whatever it was, that something had triggered a

remembrance of things past.

Deja vu.

Because I was doing it

Tyranny of the Downbeat

again.

483

I couldn't help myself.

Reconstructing reality.

Thinking too much.

Phasing in and out; a waking dream.

We approach a nice looking guy.
dark-skinned.

Probably a local.

He might be black.

He looks up as he passes a

building and smiles, then looks back at us.
by us, he smiles again.

Just before he walks

Then she looks up to see what he was

looking at, if he was smiling at a lady.
looks like.

He's

And, if so, what she

Just measuring up the competition.

Always checking

the competition.
We watched as the old couple bickered, embarrassed for them.
I didn't want to end my life that way.

I had hoped we would be a

romantic couple; a complete team respecting and dedicated to the
other.

Not two people tied together out of necessity, frustration,

and fear of dieing alone; fighting an empty battle
the other doesn't hear.
She walked ahead of me, not waiting, angry about something
I'll never understand.
to act like this.

Now I'm angry because there's no reason

I treat her well.

anything to be treated this way.

I've obviously not done

She just got up on the wrong

side of the bed and I was the first available target.
let her do it.
to my father.

I won't let it happen.

I won't

Just like my mother did

I won't be castrated with guilt.

They thought I was asleep.

Or maybe she hoped I wasn't.

It

didn't matter, even though they attempted the illusion of secret
confidences by whispering.
sat up in bed and
conversation.

But I heard it all.

I should have

startled them into letting me join the

But I'm too much of a chickenshit to do that.

So

Tyranny of the Downbeat

484

I just lay there listening to her share, in desperation, the last
of her frustration before this new-found friend would be a
long-gone friend of letters and phone calls without the eye
contact that showed genuine concern.
It wasn't a new issue, but it angered me that she would
tell it so soon to this person, her friend not mine, while I lay
there just a few feet away.
her independence.

She wanted her freedom.

She wanted

She liked coming and going as she pleased,

without having to tell me, or anyone else, where she was going or
why.

But in a marriage, that kind of freedom often meant the end

of security, especially if a third person, another friend, a man,
became involved.

And that's what she was worried about.

She

didn't want to lose her golden parachute; the life of comfort and
ease we had built together.
future of freedom.

But she was terribly attracted to a

How could she have both?

Her friend didn't

know, but she did say to hang onto both for as long as she could.
I didn't know either, but I did know she didn't have a monopoly
on the feeling.
There is a metaphor here, I think; an acknowledgement of
the inevitable.

I am standing in the middle of the copy shop,

xeroxing my marriage license, copying the original.
purpose?

She has asked for it.

card, she says.

For what

So she can get a social security

She needs her own copy.

Again, married but not.

Our life together had been reduced to a xerographic copy.
As we left the extended care home and walked to the car, I
asked my nephew if he'd ever done any time-traveling.

He was

young enough to want to, but getting old enough to realize the

Tyranny of the Downbeat

485

difference between fact and science fiction.
a hesitant, questioning no.
face of confusion.
rocking chair.

So he replied with

Well, you just did, I replied to a

Your great grandfather sitting in that

When he tells you stories of his life, talks of

things he once knew, he's transporting you into the past.
light was beginning to flicker behind his eyes.

The

I know he's

taken you to the Civil War, marching by his father's side at the
Battle of Bull Run.

I even think you rode in the back of a

conestoga wagon, sleeping next to him and the rest of the family,
as they crossed the plains to California.

Fighting Indians,

watching people die from small pox and animals from lack of water
and food.

You worked the gold mines of Sonora.

You saw

3-Fingered Jack and Joaquin Murrieta as your grandmother served
them lunch in her cafe.
men.

She remembered them as generous, kind

Robin Hoods of the Sierra, not the murderous thieves as

painted by Wells Fargo.

You rode with Black Jack Pershing in

Mexico and again in World War I.
Depression and three more wars.
Vietnam Conflict.

You survived the Great
World War II, Korea, and the

So, you see, you are a time traveler, just

like Orwell predicted.

Just like Michael J. Fox.

Only your time

machine isn't a modified Delorean or a Rube Goldberg contraption.
Yours is made of flesh and blood.
of all, it has a memory.

It has eyes and a voice.

And he's passing it on to you.

can pass it on to your children.

Most

So you

That's how storytelling began

and how it will continue.
Continuity and tradition and generations.
words for friends and family.

Just different

It's an important part of our

Tyranny of the Downbeat

lives.

486

To be able to look into the eyes of a grandmother or gaze

at the fading photo of a great grandfather and see yourself is to
realize the thread that connects us all.

It's sons of fathers

who are brothers and friends, who once were grandsons and will
soon be grandfathers.

It's seeing a nephew or your best friend's

son brought home from the hospital then suddenly finding him
playing third base for your softball team.

It's watching the son

of a drug-overdosed drummer playing drums with his dad's old band
at a record label's forty-year anniversary celebration jam
session.

To avoid it, deny it, to run and hide from it is to

reject who you are, what you are, where you came from.

To turn

your back on it is to cut yourself loose from your moorings, your
stabilizers.
lonely.

It'll make you crazy.

And it'll make you alone and

Tyranny of the Downbeat

487
CHAPTER 33

Truly nothing is to be expected but the unexpected!
-- Alice James
It gets late early here.
-- Yogi Berra
The Padrone did not like this.
ropes.

In the spotlight.

On the

He had managed his life too carefully to have it blown

away by this misguided idealist and his irresponsible slanders.
And yet, here he was, facing a room filled with panic--propelled
by the self-generating fear only a stampeding herd or trampling
crowd could create--and people speculating wildly about what the
program would say and who it would accuse.
And frightened people overreact.

They were scared.

And that's why he was here

again, in the board room, facing this inquisition.

They wanted

to know if he had any knowledge of The Brigade or any of the
other incidents that had taken place since last they met;
incidents that had damaged and nearly destroyed a number of the
members in this room, and threatened to take more down if an
immediate response wasn't initiated.
He refused to betray his own concerns.
him sweat.

He brushed his nose.

Beyond the dust and mildew that

hung in the air, there was something else.
Desperate fear.

They would not see

Pungent, like gun metal.

A metallic odor.
He wondered how many

more times he would have to tell them that everything was under
control, taken care of, before they would believe him.
about to wait.
He stood.

They didn't determine his destiny.
The meeting was over.

He wasn't

He did.

Slowly, the board members

Tyranny of the Downbeat

488

nodded to one another and murmured weakness.

As he limped to

leave, he flashed back to his father and the burning wreckage of
failure.

He was too lost in the past to thank the man, again,

for opening the door.

The same man.

The messenger delivered his message, waiting only moments
before following DiGiulio and driving to the appointed rendezvous.
The white limousine again waited outside the motel door.

And so

did the bodyguards.
"Are they worried?"
"Spineless fuckers are scared to death."
"That will make them stupid."
"Stupid people make real stupid mistakes."
"And overlook the obvious.

Playing right into my hands."

"Time to make them dance some more?"
"To even the score."

Distracted, tugging at the gold

watchband, he felt a slight rush as he realized it would soon be
over.

He would taste his revenge.

appreciate your loyalty.

"Thank you, Jon Henry.

I

Make sure no one sees you leave here,

or on the road back to Ralston."
The big man smiled and left, trailing a hot, hideous odor of
tobacco, alcohol, and a bad lunch.

The man was such a lout.

Unfortunate that this neanderthal was his only ally.
Rolling down the highway encased in the secure anonymity of
the limousine, he gazed upon the ceaseless flatness and he
remembered his sister.

A casualty of her own innocence and

someone else's arrogance.

His heart beat a little faster as his

Tyranny of the Downbeat

anger and grief pulsed.

489

Silly, stupid, impulsive high-schooler.

Not sense enough to be cautious.
Because he said he loved her.

Just attracted to the flame.

She believed him.

got into the car and drove down by the river.
scoring.
pushed.

She had notions of money.
She tried to leave.

That's why she

He had visions of

He tried.

She resisted.

He

He raped her then kicked her out

into the dirt.
She accused him.
condemned her.

He denied it.

Everyone believed him and

Because his father used his connections to keep

it quiet and get the boy off.

In court, and in the papers, their

lawyers made it look like she had seduced him.

They painted a

steamy picture of a depraved, repressed girl from south of town,
driven to better her situation by compromising a trusting young
man who happened to be wealthy.
the jurors acquitted the boy.

She cried in court.

And after

Then she killed herself.

her brother had vowed to make the father and son suffer.

And
The

Padrone--Robert DiGiulio--would pay for murdering the girl, the
sister of the man in the white limousine parking behind the
building in Ralston that housed The National Foundation for
Independent Living; the building owned by James David Delgado.

The Padrone was sitting at his desk, the grounds and
vineyards of the winery visible behind him.

There was irritation

and impatience around his eyes.
"I am growing tired of these people.
They did not settle this valley.
from me.

From me!"

They don't live here.

And yet they want to save it

His open hand slammed down on the desk.

"I

Tyranny of the Downbeat

made this town.

I made this valley."

490

Softening.

"It amuses me.

They are more concerned about butterflies and flowers than they
are people.

They would deny the farmer the water he needs to

grow crops and feed people just to save a few insignificant
creatures."
Delancy rested his double chin against his chest as he
looked down, brushing the cigar droppings off his vest.
an ashen smudge.

It left

He was comfortable and smug, leaning back,

imbedded in the leather chair facing DiGiulio.
too much, me boy."

"I wouldn't worry

He always slipped into his best Barry

Fitzgerald, old-country Irish when he was feeling particularly
confident.
"And why is that?"
Leaning forward and pointing his cigar, "You know as well as
I, that we can keep this thing tied up in the courts forever.
We'll keep appealing until they run out of time and money, or
both."
"Besides, Padrone," Borba too tried to clear the fear,
"they'll never get an objective jury.

There's just too many

people in this town, this valley, and this state that depend on
agriculture."
The clenched fist scattered everything as it crashed down on
the desk again.

The vehemence caught Delancy and Borba both

under the chin and stood them straight up.

DiGiulio leveled his

finger at Delancy's heart and stared so hard at the man that he
could feel the pressure boring into his chest.
acceptable."

"That is just not

Ground out, hissed out, word by word, through

Tyranny of the Downbeat

491

clenched teeth.
The two lieutenants looked quickly sidelong at each other.
Delancy offered.

"We're doing as much as we can as fast as we

can."
Steely, wanting to hear results not possibilities.

"And?"

"And, we'll do better," John Anthony offered in his meekest
transgressor's voice.
The Padrone lifted himself out of his chair and limped out
from behind the oaken barricade.

It seemed to take forever for

him to work his way over to them.

He stopped and rested his

hands lightly on their shoulders.

Now he was pleading.

me.

What will I do?

What can I do to stop them?"

questions meant to be answered with action.

"Tell

Rhetorical

He moved off,

circling ever so deliberately to the window where he, the
anguished and victimized lord, surveyed a domain threatened by
saintly crusaders.

"Will no one rid me of these meddlesome

martyrs?"
The two men quietly took their leave.
reflection, he saw their backs.

In the window's

He too remembered his motion

pictures.

I arranged another meeting with William Davenport for that
afternoon at the Bay Model.
facts.

Elliot wanted him to verify a few

What he needed probably wouldn't affect the shape of the

final show, but Elliot, ever precise and ethical, wanted
confirmation.

Davenport was surprised by the request and

reluctant, until I employed my reporter's power of persuasion.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

492

Actually, I was a little surprised by his surprise.
I had barely got inside and said hello, before he explained.
He wasted little time telling me exactly how he felt and what had
been happening in his life since last we met.

I didn't have a

chance to even think about what I was planning to talk about.
said there had been threats; some fairly recently.
frankly, he was frightened.

He

Quite

He said that he, as much as anyone,

realized how important this program was and what it could mean to
the state and its people, but he felt he could no longer be a
resource.

He asked that we not bother him anymore and that he be

allowed to get back to his own work and his own way of doing
things.

He didn't want anyone to see me there.

I pressured him

for the verification, got it, and left a little confused.

I

looked back at his face in the doorway thinking how cold-blooded
I could be in pursuit of the truth.
the story.

Nothing mattered, except for

Not even this man's fear.

blind arrogance was rubbing off on me.

I guess some of Elliot's
No hostages in the

pursuit of truth.
The next day he was in the hospital.
Just like all the others.
to drown him.

Someone had beat him.

They had knocked him out and had tried

That's where they found him, semi-conscious, lying

inside the model, washed up on the shores of the eco-system he
had worked so hard to save.

I saw the red light of the answering machine winking as I
entered the dark production office.
Three messages.

It blinked three times.

The first was a hang-up.

The second was Barbra

Tyranny of the Downbeat

Sue Darwin.

She asked for me or Walsh to return her call

immediately.
shaken.

493

The last message was her again, sounding very

She said it was nearly eleven and she had to talk to

somebody right away.

Her voice trembled and broke as she

explained she had some information she needed to tell someone.
"I know who's pulling the strings," was the last cryptic comment
before the line started buzzing.
I dialed her home number.
make sure I hadn't misdialed.

No answer.
Still none.

asked him to meet me in front of her house.
he pulled up.
answer.

I was already waiting.

He knocked again.

gun and tried the door.
He held up a hand.
house.

Then I called Pat and
A half-hour later,

He knocked.

Still none.

Locked.

I dialed again to

There was no

Slowly, he pulled his

He looked over his shoulder.

I stayed behind.

He began moving around the

The back door was just ajar.

He looked both ways before

he lightly pushed it open.

He quickly went in.

toward the front, room-by-room.

She was already gone.

Suitcases packed and ready, but no Barbra.
she'd fought whoever was there.
known them.

He worked

It didn't look like

Nothing out of place.

Wouldn't have gone so easily.

Must have

Walsh let me in

through the front door before he put the word out to the city
police and some friends at the Bureau.
The CHP found her body floating face down in the California
Aqueduct.

An early morning fisherman spotted her.

She wouldn't

have been discovered if her clothes hadn't snagged on a drainage
grate.

She should have been half-way to Los Angeles.

knocked unconscious and drowned.

A familiar pattern.

She'd been
Walsh

Tyranny of the Downbeat

looked away.

494

He couldn't breath.

He was getting angry.

sensing the circle getting tighter.
the kiss of death.

I was

I was starting to feel like

The other side was definitely playing

hardball now and it didn't seem to matter if they took a few
people out with them.

And I was beginning to look over my

shoulder a lot more.

The two men sat gagged and tied to the seats in back of
the van.

They knew each other.

times before.

At harvest time.

They had worked together many
During the dormant season.

They

had stood in fields together in summer, winter, spring, and fall.
The older of the two was an auditor for OxyGene.

The other was

Manager of Field Operations for the wine grape division of
DiGiulio Winery.

One had been run off the road on his way home

after having a few beers.

The other was knocked unconscious at

the air field as he checked the equipment for the next day's
spraying.

They had no idea where they were, why they were there,

or who the men were that had taken them.

They only knew that the

van was no longer moving.
Three men opened the back of the van.

As their eyes

adjusted to the light, the captives could begin to clearly see
the men in front of them.

And behind, standing at parade rest

formation, was another twenty or so men dressed the same.

The

masks they wore were similar to those worn by the heroes of
Saturday afternoon serials.
and tied in back.

Green silk, long in front, shorter

Slitted eyeholes.

Just above the eyes, in the

middle of the forehead, where eyebrows would normally arch, was

Tyranny of the Downbeat

495

silk-screened the symbol for the ecology movement.

The rounded

lower case "e", dark green, in an oval of the same color.

In the

sixties, this symbol, and the peace sign, had been called the
tracks of the American chicken by every conservative asshole and
redneck from Atlanta to Anaheim.

Their hats were the same dark

green and were fashioned after the French Legionnaire cap,
rounded crown with leather visor and flaps at the back to protect
their necks from the sun.

The rest of the uniform was

standard-issue military gear, available through any mercenary
mail-order magazine.

Khaki and green camouflage fatigues and

dark green combat boots.

Instead of dog tags, they wore a

hand-carved Earth on a leather thong.
The kidnappers pulled the two men out and dumped them into
the dust.

They started to struggle.

When they were kicked

repeatedly and told to stop, they did, but only for a moment.
Because to their right they saw the oak tree.

And the two nooses

swinging silently.

Their eyes began to plead.

croaked for mercy.

But their cries only got them kicked and

punched again and again.

Their voices

Their hands were tied behind them

before they were pulled to their feet and marched away from the
van.
The tree was large and old.
out, struck by lightning.

Its insides had been burned

But it still stood.

the tree in "The Ox-Bow Incident."

It looked like

You kept waiting for Henry

Fonda to walk into frame and begin pleading for these men's
lives.

But he didn't.

And no one else did either.

The van

pulled up under the nooses and the two men were hoisted up on

Tyranny of the Downbeat

top.

496

Their legs were gone.

They couldn't stand, only slump.

Through their slitted eyes, they could see a bank of lights and
what looked like a camera mounted on a tripod.

Behind the

camera, hidden from their view by the men, was a portable
microwave unit on a small trailer.
charge, the lights went on.

At a signal from the man in

They were bright.

Much like

the lights used by highway crews repairing roads at night.

As

the nooses went around their necks, the leader unrolled a
document.

As the cameraman framed his shot and started a slow

zoom, he began reading.
"We are the harbingers of a new order.

We are

environmental storm troopers, members of the New Committee of
Vigilance.

We are known by the name, the John Muir Brigade.

message is simple and clear.
this planet.
terrorism.

Our

Cease ravaging the environment of

If you do not, we will continue our acts of
As the vigilantes did before us, we will take the law

into our own hands.

We will initiate an ecologic guerrilla war

that you cannot stop and that you cannot possibly win.
message is a brutal one.

Our first

And we want it transmitted directly

into the living rooms of America.

We want you to have it for

dinner, in much the same way you feasted on the carnage of
Vietnam."
He turned to address the two kneeling men, held up by the
nooses around their necks. "As pawns of the agrichemical
conglomerates and farming combines, we do hereby sentence you to
death for crimes against nature and crimes against man.

On many

occasions, you have knowingly and willingly polluted waters and

Tyranny of the Downbeat

poisoned animal life.
these activities.

497

You have exhibited no willingness to cease

You are unrepentant and you shall die."

One

of the men tried to stand, to protest, but was knocked down
again.

"We sentence you to death by hanging.

May God have mercy

on your soul."
The troopers guarding each man jumped to the ground.
leader dropped his hand and the van pulled away.
long for the dance to end.

The

It didn't take

He placed the statement and the

videotape below the dangling feet of the now dead men and walked
away.

Life had begun imitating art, in an ugly way.

ALTA CALIFORNIA
---------------------------------------------------------------ENVIRONMENTAL TERRORISM
The new vigilantes
By Stephan Harrington
OF THE RECORD STAFF
Terror in the Fields
Two unique and unsettling events took place yesterday,
witnessed almost simultaneously by the entire nation. A band of
environmental terrorists, known to us now as the John Muir
Brigade, successfully broke into the networks and broadcast their
grisly message.
We watched as two men were murdered for polluting the local
water supply. Both were part of the local farming community and
both were involved in the use of pesticides and irrigation water
on the west side of the San Joaquin Valley.
How this band accessed the broadcast airwaves is not the
issue. Anything is possible in our wired world. The key issue
here is this new phenomenon of frustration; this attempt to take
direct action now being referred to as "environmental terrorism".
It is possible that these men died, or were executed,
because their vigilante judge and jury condemned them for
destroying a precious natural resource and sentenced them to
death for their crime.
Historically, most societies have treated the poisoning of

Tyranny of the Downbeat

498

water sources as a crime. In dry climates, not unlike ours here
in California, it is said that such criminals were often
executed.
Some officials at the State level feel that Proposition 65
is responsible for this new type of violence.
The initiative includes a provision for direct citizen
enforcement if law enforcement officials do not act against a
violator within 60 days of being informed. So angry and fearful
citizens, frustrated by what they see as the government's failure
to protect them from pollution, take the law into their own
hands. Becoming, in effect, environmental bounty hunters.
In many ways, these two unfortunate men were really only
innocent pieces in a much larger game. They were simply
following orders; doing their jobs. The true guilt may reach
much higher. Into the board rooms of the water contractors and
the agrichemical conglomerates that control California.
Daniel Valle had phoned first thing in the morning.

Early.

The strain in his voice, the lack of humor in its tone, convinced
Elliot that he should meet him at the office in Ralston.
ground," he had said.

That really threw Elliot.

"Neutral

Knowing that Danny

was as much a perfectionist as himself, Elliot
assumed he was having some problems with polishing the script--or
the show--or both.
Danny took the offered cup of coffee.
put the unlit cigar back in his mouth.

He took a sip, then

A courtesy to the

non-smokers and acknowledgement of what the coughing meant.
Elliot could sense the confusion.

He could taste it in the air

between them.
Danny cut through it first.

"Are you satisfied with your

work, my friend?"
"So far, yes.

And you?"

"Tell me honestly, please.
That we can cripple them?"

Do you feel that we can win?

Tyranny of the Downbeat

499

"Right now, I can't say.
direction.

I think we're moving in the right

The program is coming together.

The pieces seem to

be falling into place."
"Will there be no doubt?

Or will they escape the trap, like

the coyote who chews off its leg so it can still run free?"
"We're still building the trap.

It's not ready yet.

But it

will be done soon."
"Soon enough?
be justice.

Will there be an end this year?

Will there

Or will it go on into the next and the next?"

"I just don't know."
"We have so much to do.

I drive these valleys and I see

myself, my family, generations before me and generations to
follow, still working the fields."
"It's changing.

People are changing."

"Perhaps."
"You don't think we can make a difference?"
"I am not a cynic.

I believe in the basic good of people.

Yes, once I was militant.

I walked at the front in Delano.

we marched within the system.
work.

But

We marched to make the system

We believed in non-violence."
"So, what's so different now?"
"Too many people have suffered.

Too little has been done.

I see the gains we once made--are making--slipping away.

Perhaps

it is time to be militant again."
"I don't really see any alternative.

Anything faster.

There's no other way I can see it being done."
"I have another way."

He opens his briefcase, reaches in,

Tyranny of the Downbeat

500

and pulls out a piece of green silk cloth.
table.

Elliot carefully spreads it out.

He tosses it on the
Above the slitted

eyeholes is the evergreen rounded "e" inside an oval.
stares at the mask, then up at Danny.

Danny left the mask behind.

Elliot

"I lead them, my friend."

Elliot locked it away.

I was

surprised to see him there, but glad, because we needed to talk.
I was angry because he was being stubborn and stupid.

Pat

decided to stick around to see how two pacifists would handle
confrontation.
"They're just coincidences."
"Pretty dangerous coincidences."
"Still just coincidences.

Nothing in common."

"Dream on!"
"Maybe, but I believe it.

I grew up that way."

"Hopelessly romantic asshole."
"Exactly.

I believe in being fair and honest.

Trusting

people."
"Snow White or what?
and stuff them up your ass!
the truth out of the way!

They're trying to take those virtues
They want you and your version of
Don't be so fucking blind!

This is

life and death shit!"
Elliot shut down.

I started stomping my foot on the wooden

floor and strumming my acoustic air guitar in imitation of some
old black delta bluesman.
Walsh understood.
confused.

"Chord with me, Teddy!"

He had been there before.

Elliot was

Tyranny of the Downbeat

501

"Get in sync with me, Elliot!"
Walsh translated.

"He means you're not communicating, yet.

You're not in step."
"So, you're saying anything goes now as long as it gets the
job done?

Is that it?"

"That's precisely it."
"Can't do it."
"Won't do it!"
"Both."

He left the room and drove back to the bay area.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

502
CHAPTER 34

An artist is a dreamer consenting to dream of the actual
world.
-- George Santayana
Elliot is a creature of habit.

Routine comforts him.

He

likes doing the same thing on the same day, week after week.

So,

like every other Thursday evening, he and Maryanne are driving
down the road from The Ranch on their way to dinner in San
Anselmo.

In the darkness, they don't see the black car parked

behind the oak trees and manzanita bushes at the foot of the
hill.

It isn't until Elliot's car is several hundred feet ahead

that the driver pulls out onto the dirt road to follow.
Elliot and Maryanne are talking about their new puppy.

As

he glances into his rearview mirror, he can see a second cloud of
dust behind his own.
"There's someone else on the road."
Maryanne turns to look.
and turns back.

She can't see anything in the dusk

"They're driving without lights."

"Don't want us to see them.
the BMW kicks up more dust.
its lights.

Hold on."

He steps on it and

When he does, the second car hits

"Damn!"

Maryanne turns again and sees the lights.
He hopes he knows the road better than they do.
road and the freeway aren't that far away.

The main

But they're far

enough.
The chase car has some power because it's gaining.

At

night, Elliot doesn't know the road as well as he thought.

And

Tyranny of the Downbeat

503

the second car doesn't seem to care.

The driver is reckless

enough, and his car fast enough, that he's soon inching alongside
the driver's side.

As they draw parallel, Elliot glances over,

sees the driver and two passengers.
riot shotguns.
them.

They wear masks and hold

But it doesn't look like they're planning to use

Just yet.

But they are trying to get ahead.

going to cut us off, Elliot thinks.

Probably

Which they do.

The other

driver punches his car, surging ahead, trailing tail lights.
Then he hits his brakes and Elliot does too.

But as he punches

it to get around, the second car swerves into him.
loses control as he swerves to avoid impact.

Elliot nearly

Dead ahead are

several large oaks.

Elliot knows they're going to try and run

him into the grove.

The two cars continue to jockey.

speeding up, and dodging swerves.
gap before they reach the trees.

Slowing,

Elliot thinks he can split the
As the BMW jumps forward, the

reactions and speed of the second car surprises him.

Then he's

slammed into and flying off the road, heading for the trees.

His

mind reels back to a beat-up pick-up and a country road before he
hits.
He lifts his head and shakes it.
nothing but dust.

The engine's dead.

Maryanne is slumped over.

Then again.

There's

The car isn't moving.

Both their seat belts held.

breathing, but isn't conscious.

She's

He reaches for her but stops

when he sees the headlights through the dusty haze.

"Goddammit."

He starts shaking Maryanne and pulling at her belt.

The lights

get brighter.

He yanks harder.

Maryanne starts to mutter and

shakes her head as the belt comes loose.

The lights stop a few

Tyranny of the Downbeat

feet away.

504

Then the spotlight hits him full in the face.

And

the red light starts spinning.
"This is Officer Jameson of the Marin County Sheriff's
Department.

Please don't move.

We have a helicopter on the

way."
Elliot grimaces and turns to help Maryanne.
he feels the sharp pain.
he's clammy.

That's when

When he realizes he's sweating.

That he's going to

...

pass

...

out.

At the hospital, Maryanne is checked and released.
few scrapes.

Nothing more.

And

A

She is assured that Elliot's

concussion won't keep him out of action for too long.
Maryanne is there when he opens his eyes.
"The sheriff never saw anyone.

He said they could have

dodged down any of the farm or fire roads and out of sight."
Elliot heard what she was saying, but not really.
and closed his eyes.

He smiled

Then forced them open again.

"Obviously, they knew our routine.
we would be there and no one else would.

Knew our schedule.

Knew

The sheriff suggests we

start patrolling the road from the house to the main road."
Elliot nods his head and closes his eyes.
He was in the hospital for nearly a week.
In his room.

In his dreams.

His eyes snap open, his shirt is drenched.
home movie.
projector.

Watching himself grow up.

It began as a

The film caught in the

The heat of the lamp burned a hole in the image of

him graduating from Dewey High School.
Like napalm.

He had visitors.

The hole burned white.

Fire jelly sticking to everything.

He was burning

Tyranny of the Downbeat

the trash.

505

He tied a plastic bag from the dry cleaners around a

stick and lit it.

He watched the fireballs of molten plastic

whiz to the ground, like falling bombs, firing anything it touched.
He stood helpless in his director's chair as the
hooded man held up the black magnetic videotapes and lit them.
He saw them twist and shrink and dance, shriveling into shreds of
molten black powder, shrieking into a puddle on the floor.
The forest smelled of Christmas.
him dizzy with memory.

It surrounded him, making

He came upon a clearing.

The dance had

begun.

Inside the circle he saw himself, lying like a man in a

trance.

He was the point where all lines intersect; where the

center is everywhere and there is no circumference.
The medicine man was speaking, interpreting the dream.

He

was telling a story of the son who found a bird of the most
beautiful song.

He brought it home to his father.

His father

didn't want the bird, so he didn't feed it and it died.
killed the bird of the most beautiful song.
killed himself.

He

And, in so doing, he

For when the father killed the bird, he was

really killing nature and thus himself.
Standing at the edge of the clearing, Elliot understood.
Those who have lost respect for earth and animals have lost their
center.

Those who live out of harmony with nature are doomed.

Those who participate with dignity in the way of nature will save
the world.
As he stepped closer, the medicine man looked into his eyes.
Elliot knew this man.

He had followed his teachings and

interpretations of myths.

He spoke to Elliot.

"You have been

Tyranny of the Downbeat

marked.
man.

506

Your brush with death has made you a magical, spiritual

You are the bearer of white magic.

artist.

The artist the mythmaker.

The shaman is the

Traveling beyond the

boundaries of reality, you will discover the mystery of life and
bring the truth back.

You will fashion our future myth."

Moving into the circle, nearer the brightness of the flame,
it grew hotter.

He closed his eyes against the light.

When he

opened them, he found himself staring into a bank of studio
lights.

He was on a television talk show.

jester.

His face in greasepaint.

tunnel.

His own words were mocking him.

He was dressed like a

He could hear his voice down a
Speaking seriously, "I

try to deal with ideas and people, the way we are, the way things
operate, moods, society's likes and dislikes."
The interviewer was a film critic who had mercilessly
lampooned him many times during his career.
The Grand Inquisitor.

He was dressed as

"Do they like watching people hang?"

Not listening, but absently juggling film canisters, "To
me, film is historical document.

Therefore it has practical

value."
"What's practical about glorifying terrorists and
murderers?"
Turning away and looking at the camera, still sincere,
trying to convince them of the truth.

"Those who violate the

basic tenets of morality--of honesty, fairness, and
generosity--are eventually undone."
"Since you collaborated with these killers, then you too
will be undone?"

Tyranny of the Downbeat

507

Advancing on the camera, "My methods are better because I
teach the virtues of being fair, honest, and generous."
"Your methods left two men hanging."
As he reaches for the critic's throat, the scene shifts.
There are strings attached to his hands and feet.
the others.

Around him are

Western, Laura, Walsh, Devereaux, Valle, Dewey

Palmer, Stewart Grossman.

Slumped in wide-eyed vacancy.

He

stiffly turns as the light streams through the rising curtain.
Beyond the footlights he can see the audience.
demographic.

The perfect

Suddenly, he's yanked to his feet and danced to the

edge of the stage.

He tries to look up, to see who's pulling the

strings, but each time, his head is snapped forward.
begins to laugh and point.

He continues to dance.

drops from the ceiling and lands in front of him.
light saber.

A young man
He carries a

He swings it toward Elliot, who ducks.

through the strings and Elliot collapses.

The crowd

It slices

He rolls over on his

back and looks up, only to see the hands of the Puppetmaster
disappear into the darkness.

He closes his eyes and the scene

shifts again.
A slow dissolve to another place, another time.

He's

standing outside a cave, wearing a suit of silver armor.
battered.

He's bloody.

entrance.

But it isn't The Mole.

He beckons.

It's

The Mole stands to one side of the
It looks like him, but isn't.

Elliot stumbles forward.

He isn't used to walking

in full-dress battle armor.
The Mole holds a gleaming sword.
awaits.

The keeper of the past.

He speaks, "The tyrant

He is proud, and therein lies

Tyranny of the Downbeat

his doom.

508

He is a mistaker of shadow for substance.

destiny to be tricked.
will find his weakness."

It is his

You know the secret of his doom.

You

In slow motion, he offers the sword.

Elliot takes it and enters.
He hears it.

Somehow he knows what he was about to face.

He has seen it in every one of his movies.
stops.

The way is blocked.

changing.

He turns a corner and

The face of the Minotaur keeps

It is all the faces of his past, present, and future;

his friends and enemies.
it is himself.

It is everyone and none.

And, finally,

He has become Dithyrambos; he of "the double

door," the second birth.
The Minotaur roars and draws his own sword, charging, black
cape billowing.

Elliot spins and dances away.

Elliot raises his sword to strike.

They clash.

It changes in his hand,

becoming an electronic remote control.

He presses the button.

The Minotaur is captured in the glass arena.

Elliot lowers the

remote and points it at the videotape machine and fires.
over.

He has shattered the crystal moment and is free.

It is
He

floats up, through the whirlpool, to the threshold of the dream,
where he re-surfaces and re-emerges into everyday existence.
Elliot awakes.

He is sweating.

Lying next to his hand is a

silver pin, in the shape of a sword.

The last of the all-nighters--editors and sound men--had
left The Ranch.

Only the night security man remained.

After

checking all the conference rooms, sound and video post rooms, he
sat down to dinner.

Like he did the same time every night.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

First it was rounds.
until daybreak.

509

Then it was food.

Boring.

you focused and alert.

Not enough dope in the world to keep
Didn't matter anyway.

there was nothing there to steal.
it anyway.

Then the long hours

So, big deal.

Right?

I mean,

And the insurance would cover

A little toke or two wouldn't hurt.

Certainly would keep things interesting, if not entertaining.
That's what he was thinking just before the gun-butt cracked his
head open.
The man in black was a blur of efficiency.
television monitors and motion detection cameras.
on the security door into the main hallway.
hallway and, with certainty, into Edit I.
sprinklers with wax.

Jam the
Break the code

Quickly down the
Disabling the

Spreading the gasoline, then lighting it.

Out the door, then back down the hallway, check the guard, and
out the back door.

Down the hill, into the ravine, across the

drainage ditch, up the other side to the waiting car.
Through the binoculars, it wasn't long before he could see
the flames.

Then hear the alarm.

the main house.
won't help.

And the people pouring out of

They may have their own fire company, but it

Not this time.

It'll be too late.

doesn't burn, the napalm will destroy.
the symmetry.

He smiled at the irony,

Little would be left of anything it touched.

masters are history.
the truth.

What the fire

The

And so is Mr. Elliot Lincoln's version of

The car moved off into the night.

The fire inspector believed the guard.
the bandages and swollen eyes.
to be suspicious.

He couldn't avoid

But it was the nature of his job

"I'll still need to do some lab work."

Tyranny of the Downbeat

"I know they did."

510

There was no question in Elliot's eyes.

"You need more evidence than just a feeling."

The inspector

wasn't convinced.
"They burned that room for a reason."
"Why?"
Elliot was distracted.

"You wouldn't understand.

with a project we're working on.

Has to do

Everything we've shot so far,

all the masters, were in that room."
Jane picked up on the past tense.
"I vaulted them this morning.

"You say were?"

I had a feeling.

One of my

dreams."
"So you moved the tapes?"
"They wouldn't have known."
"They seemed to know everything else.
Exactly where to go.

The entire layout.

How to get in.
So the masters are

safe?"
"For now.
kill me."

I can't believe this.

There are people trying to

Then he remembered a comment about 'Snow White.'

"They didn't try to kill you."

Elliot, looking down, looked

up and over, about to ask the question.
"You're just the messenger.

They were trying to kill what

you're carrying."
"Then I'll make sure it gets delivered."

Tyranny of the Downbeat

511
CHAPTER 35

All art is knowing when to stop.
-- Toni Morrison
A photograph is a secret about a secret.
you the less you know.
-- Diane Arbus

The more it tells

DISSOLVE:
MUSIC CHANGE: UP FULL THEN UNDER
THEME #20: Kitaro's "Full Moon Story"
148

EXT. REFUGE - LATE AFTERNOON - ESTABLISHING SHOT

AERIAL FLY-BY of Masterson.
grasslands and the water.

Helicopter flies low over the

NARRATOR (v.o.)
Some see what's happening at Masterson as an
ingenious revenge. Nature's way. Her
revenge on a valley that stopped at nothing
to become the richest agricultural region in
the world. At an awesome expense to her
water and wildlife.
149

EXT. RIVER CANYON - WIDE SHOT

HIGH ANGLE SHOTS of river running through King's Canyon.
We forget something we learned as children.
The hydrologic cycle. It is a circle, a
continuum. We can't do anything to our water
without feeling the effects somehow,
somewhere, sometime.
150

MONTAGE

Shots of rushing water.
We have learned that when it comes to
everything we do carries a reward and
There are two sides to this issue, to
degree matched by practically nothing
the planet.
151

EXT. HIGHWAY - WIDE SHOT

Shot of highways in the midwest in winter.

water,
a risk.
a
else on

Tyranny of the Downbeat

If we want highways free of ice in the
winter, we put salt on them. And we get
chloride contamination of our groundwater.
152

EXT. FIELD - WIDE SHOT

Shot of aerial spraying.
If we want poisons to kill worms so they
don't ruin our crops, we smother them with
poisons. And we get aldicarb in our
groundwater.
153

CLOSE UP

Spraying ground with pesticide.
Think about it. When we poison the ground,
we poison ourselves. Once exposed, the
aftereffects may not show up for years. But
they will. And they will kill us.
154

EXT. LAKE - WIDE SHOT

Family picnics near lake.
With every breath we take, we exchange oxygen
with the air. With every drink of water, we
take streams and aquifers into our bodies.
With every mouthful of food, we complete
pathways that run from our bones, liver, and
brains to rainwater and microorganisms in the
soil that nurture the crops upon which we
depend.
155

EXT. CITY - WIDE SHOT

New York City street scene.
English poet John Donne once wrote: "No man
is an Island, entire of it self." For him,
it was a religious principle. For us, it
must become the basis for our daily lives,
for it is an unrelenting and unforgiving
reality.
156

MONTAGE

Shots of people hiking and recreating in wilderness areas.

512

Tyranny of the Downbeat

513

We must recognize that we are a part of life
and that we cannot destroy it for our
immediate convenience and comfort
without ultimately destroying ourselves.
Just as we cannot endanger life without
endangering ourselves, so we cannot save
ourselves without preserving the entire
biosphere. This interconnectedness with life
will be our saving grace.
157

EXT. PLANT - ESTABLISHING SHOT

Exterior shot of OxyGene plant.
children riding on their bikes.

CAMERA PANS LEFT to frame

If we don't send a message to those
responsible right now, today, we are
condemning our children, and our children's
children to deaths more horrible than we can
imagine. We must do it for ourselves. We
must do it for our children. We must do it
for our future.
158

MONTAGE

Shots of development. Strip mining, coastal oil drilling,
nuclear plants, toxic dumps.
A noted politician once spoke of "a
conspiracy of the present to steal from the
future." He pointed out that the
future didn't have a chance because it had no
legislators, no news reporters or lobbyists.
CONTINUE MONTAGE.
He wondered if we would have the wisdom and
foresight to act as stewards for the future;
or would we just consume away the present as
so many collapsed civilizations have done
before us. There is only one answer. It is
a resounding, "We will not."
MUSIC UP FULL
DISSOLVE
159

EXT. WATER - ECU OF FLOWING WATER.

160

TITLE
Roll Closing Credits

Tyranny of the Downbeat

514

FADE OUT:
MUSIC:

DOWN AND OUT

The last of the credits rolled off the screen as the final chord
faded away.

Elliot turned to The Mole, then looked back at me.

He

smiles, "I like it."
"Yea, I think it works."
As if trying to convince himself, "I think it goes just far
enough."
"Now we've got to get it on the air."
"Shouldn't be a problem."
"Don't be so naive."
freeze you out?

There was that word again.

"What if they

Get an injunction, or something, so you can't buy

any air time?"
"I guess we'd have to come up with something a little more
creative."
"Like The Brigade did?"
The Mole shifts in his seat.

GRAPHIC DESIGN AND LAYOUT WILL CLEARLY INDICATE THIS SECTION
AS A CONTINUATION OF THE SCENARIO DESIGNED BY THE INSTITUTE.
BE DESIGNED AS STORYBOARD OR COMIC BOOK PANELS.

IT MAY

It is January 1, 1992. It is an election year and the ritual of
choosing a Presidential image is about to begin. The sophisticated
imaging technologies sit poised for action. Narrow vested interests
with vast sums of money and the will to abuse its privileges, prepare
to use the powers of the media to tamper with the fabric of a
democracy.
The Info-Visionists finally complete design of a plan of action as
the campaign year dawns. The list of equipment needed and the means

Tyranny of the Downbeat

515

of acquiring each is resolved. They have integrated the equipment
and the common resolve of 11 individuals into a working system, a
whole, a singularity of action.
In time, this network of individuals, hardware and ideals comes to be
called "The Engine of Change". Their efforts will spread across day
and night for the remainder of the year. They have chosen their
components wisely and well from within The Order and are now ready to
knit them into a new pattern. From Goliath they have fashioned a
David.
BREAK POINT IN SCENARIO.

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517

The welder's torch spit blue shadows against the walls. The Arrow
sat in the middle of the shop, crawling with technicians
and engineers. Portions of the cab had been cut away. The rest of
the frame had been extended, shaped, and modified to take the racks
of equipment that waited to the side. The aerodynamics had been
redesigned to allow it to cruise at speeds in excess of 140 miles per
hour.
A team of millwrights cut through the superstructure, modifying and
reinforcing it to receive the new power train. The original diesel
drive undercarriage and generator lay abandoned, as a team labored to
couple an all electric drive sled and fuel cell module to the
reworked frame struts. Audio and video edit bays, microwave
transmission, and other pre-existing electronics were being moved to
clear a space for the high-speed computer and its storage devices.
A narrow circulation shaft ran the length of The Arrow. Along
this corridor, control stations were built for the computers,
video processing and synthesis, audio, communication and
microwave transmission, and The PULPIT.
Low light level cameras had been installed throughout to capture
images of the interior and the crew as they progressed through the
event. The main studio and control console were located in the upper
front quarter of The Arrow, just above the driver's cockpit. From
there, the anchor and two associates, an engineer and field producer,
would monitor The Arrow, its transmissions, and their pursuit.
A lower rear portion of the superstructure had been removed so a
second vehicle could be mated to it. It was a small, mobile
camera platform with a built-in signal reflector. It would be
operated by one driver and a cameraman. It was designed as a
decoy, to make it appear as if the transmission was actually
originating from The Mirror and not the control center aboard The
Arrow. Valuable time would be wasted by the pursuit forces as
they tracked The Mirror.
The survival time and degree of success of the entire effort
would depend on how long this deception worked. Its
maneuverability, speed, and size would be used to draw pursuers
ever farther from the real source of transmission. When, and if,
it was discovered, it was designed so it could broadcast the
pursuit back to The Arrow for re-transmission to the viewing
audience. The Info-Visionists intended to broadcast their own
capture and destruction in real-time. And the American public
would witness the brutality of The Order first-hand.
BREAK POINT IN SCENARIO.

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518

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519

Flynn James was unique among network telejournalists. Not even
the fabled Walter Cronkite enjoyed the same freedom to express views
on any subject while maintaining a credibility that rivaled many
national figures. For someone not directly involved in the power
politics of government or business, he had achieved an unparalleled
position of influence, respect, and prestige.
To millions, he was the truth. He had become their measure of
the events of the day. They had gladly abandoned their need to
know for the familiar manner and comforting order he could bring
to the disorder of the every day. His image had become an event.
And in his mind, it had become a burden of misplaced priorities.
BREAK POINT IN SCENARIO.

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520

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521

Tyranny of the Downbeat

522

The crane slowly lowered the freshly-painted, charcoal-silver
Jet/Ranger helicopter into its nest on the roof of The Arrow.
Their night-running colors matched perfectly. The millwrights
coupled the helicopter into place.
The two remaining Jet/Rangers stood silently in an adjoining
hangar, soon to be converted into the aerial antennae system for
The Engine of Change. If necessary, the roof chopper would
assume the tasks of The Mirror in one final attempt to sustain
The Moment, to prolong the event. The copter was also mounted
with cameras so it could beam the last breath of rebel life into
the homes of America.
The infra-red night vision systems were being installed in all
the mobile equipment. The driver's cockpit of The Arrow was
nearly complete, as were the master control facilities for audio
and video. All remote cameras on The Mirror and the helicopter
systems were in place and being hard-wired to the editing
hardware.
As the year slipped away, seemingly more quickly than before, The
Info-Visionists neared completion of Phase One. They were confident
they had acquired and integrated the necessary
equipment to succeed in producing The Moment and prolonging its
existence.
As the mid-point of the year approached, they turned their
attention to acquiring the special devices that would actually
create and project the images of this event.
BREAK POINT IN SCENARIO.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

523

During his twenty years of broadcast journalism, Flynn had worked
with the best and brightest practitioners of the broadcast
journalism and video communication arts. And in confidential
conversations, he had come to share with a handful of them, the
fear that this vast network of continental teleconnections had
become a selfishly manipulated giant of social and economic
influence. And like them, he believed it was vulnerable. It had
an Achilles heel.
As he spent more time with these few men and women, and as they
grew to trust the other, they confided in him their intention to
assemble a machine and create an event unlike anything attempted
before. But they needed someone like Flynn to capture the public, to
gain their confidence and participation. They
challenged his conscience. They asked him to join.
Flynn knew these dedicated individuals, the Info-Visionists as
they now called themselves, had the skills and drive to build
their so-called Engine of Change. But did he have the
commitment, the belief, the true emotions and honest words to
trigger the images they would require? For the heart of The
Engine of Change would be his heart, its soul his own.
The Engine would be an extension of his feelings and words. It
would be able to create a synthesis of image and sound based on
the words he spoke and emotions he felt. The context, inflection,
and definition of each word would trigger a flow of
interpreted images that would be broadcast simultaneously,
instantaneously.
The Engine would reach into its pool of images to find a
visualization of the idea. It would be able to read and
interpret the great and small intentions, the nuances, the
inflections of any phrase. And it would also paint the truth of
any fears hidden behind his words. Every secret would be made
visible. Flynn wasn't sure he had the strength and conviction it
took to sustain The Event.
BREAK POINT IN SCENARIO.

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524

Tyranny of the Downbeat

525

The second Cray X-MP/48 slid easily into place next to its
identical companion unit. Only the upper rear quarter section of
The Arrow remained vacant, waiting to receive The PULPIT.
While the acquisition and assembly of the hardware moved ahead,
others of the team were busily gathering, cataloguing, and
storing images in the computers. These imagineers were responsible
for writing the software that would encode and decode
an image library of the entire century.
The images and sounds of events, peoples, and places were
digitized and stored, a chronicle of the Twentieth Century. Each
was carefully mapped, categorized, and cross-indexed over a broad
matrix of commonality. A voice recognition compiler would
bring the appropriate image to the surface instantaneously.
A logic leveraging algorythm had been designed and installed
to couple the two Crays in parallel to achieve an exponential
magnification of processing speed. A pattern recognition
algorythm had also been designed to read and display the images.
The Engine of Change had become a mobile image library of our
nation and our world. From this pool, it was capable of
synthesizing new visual relationships. It could process
thousands of inputs from memory and real time simultaneously, and
display a composite in a heartbeat.
As the year wore on, and it became more and more obvious that
the world was in a state of flux and turmoil, the representations
of reality, as presented by the political and economic elites, was
becoming more and more rigidly and narrowly defined.
Flynn recognized more clearly that the window of television, for
all of its variety, granted a limited field of vision. Flynn
finally realized that The Order held fast all the cards that
counted in this game. And it was now even more apparent that the
Info-Visionists were the only ones with the vision to compete
with The Order for a new image of The Future.
BREAK POINT IN SCENARIO.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

526

Tyranny of the Downbeat

527

Tyranny of the Downbeat

The PULPIT suppressed all signals within its radius. The
Info-Visionists monitored the damped signals from the outside and
coupled them into their own transmissions. They monitored the
networks and listened in on their correspondents in Washington
and New York. Broadcast television would no longer be a one-way
network. It would become a living, interactive medium.
They now had the tools, expertise, voice, and familiar presence
to breath life into their plans. They would spend the balance of
the year gathering images. They waited for the election year to
reach its climax.
BREAK POINT IN SCENARIO.

528

Tyranny of the Downbeat

It is Monday, November 4, 1992. Election eve. Unprecedented
millions have been spent by both parties and their special
interest supporters. The Order waits, exhausted, for the morning
and the expected results. It has been a long year.
The Info-Visionists are tired also, but they cannot rest. Their
year of effort and sacrifice is about to culminate in The Moment
they have prepared for.
It is 5:56PM. The final four-minute sequence has been set in
motion. Somewhere in the heartland of America, The
Info-Visionists accelerate along a ribbon of highway. In a
momentary burst, they will be before the people of the United
States. Flynn James will once more, perhaps for the last time,
speak to the nation about where we've been and where we're going.
The Info-Visionists are about to capture the imagination of a
nation. The Moment is at hand.
BREAK POINT IN SCENARIO.

529

Tyranny of the Downbeat

530

Tyranny of the Downbeat

"Good evening. This is Flynn James. We are The Info-Visionists.
Together, we have just crossed the threshold of an event unlike
any other. At this very moment, 190 million of you are
simultaneously sharing the experience of these images. Our
journey will be a short one. We raise our voices above the
established Order, not with guns and violence, but with
imagination."
"We will confront and challenge you with the reality of how this
screen limits your vision, masks the contradictions that exist.
Confuses how images and words are used to make you doubt the
realities that wait outside your door."
"It is time for us to confront how we perceive, and tolerate, our
nation's goals and methods. We have seized this moment on behalf
of the future. We hope that in the morning, our images will be
echoed by your united voices."
Within a matter of minutes, The Order knew that their worst fears
about the fire at the Rand facility had been realized. They had
been silent about The PULPIT. Now they could no longer deny its
existence.
They could call this treason. But they'd have to wait for the
right opportunity. At this moment, their access to the nation
was blocked. The Order had prepared a number of scenarios and
plans in case of terrorist action. But the nature and character
of this event had caught them completely off-guard.
The Info-Visionists could not be called terrorists. They had
made that clear. They had used their minds, not their fists to
seize The Moment. They had taken the high ground without a shot.
And their audience was receptive, having been primed by years of
dependence on the credibility of television.
The Order knew it was not impossible to find the source of The
PULPIT signal. But it would take time. And every wasted minute
allowed the rebels to broadcast their message to more people.
The risk to The Order and their carefully prepared perception of
reality could be changed forever.
The technologies of The Order were now on alert. There was
little time to spare. They had the new tools, as well as the
traditional weapons of brute force, to confront and terminate The
Event. It would only be a matter of time.
But with the right mix of images and words, and with sufficient
time to project them, The Info-Visionists could create a lasting
impression. A pebble cast into a still pond, the ripples could

531

Tyranny of the Downbeat
reverberate for years.
With each new input, The Order collected data and refined their
assumptions about the nature of this event. They would find the
rebels. But in the end, their justified means could destroy
their image in the eyes of the nation.
BREAK POINT IN SCENARIO.

532

Tyranny of the Downbeat

533

Tyranny of the Downbeat

"Tomorrow, across this nation, millions of you will exercise your
collective will as a free people by participating in the
Presidential election. In spite of the fact that unprecedented
millions have been spent to influence your decision, voter apathy
is expected to reach record levels."
"Each candidate and special interest group has invested millions
to decipher, predict, and stimulate your every mood. And yet,
the depths of democratic participation have become even more
shallow. We sense that in the hearts of many of you, you feel
there is no real choice, no clear distinctions between the
candidates and their purposes."
BREAK POINT IN SCENARIO.

534

Tyranny of the Downbeat

535

Tyranny of the Downbeat

"When you step into the voting booth tomorrow, be prepared to
vote for yourself. To write in your name. You may see it as a
futile gesture. But the result of this common action will force
an evaluation of the values and motives that drive our democracy.
ride to remind you of our national spirit and the paths of
possibilities that lie before us."
"As I speak to you now, The Order prowls the plains nearby. Back
and forth, they roam the heartland of this nation, watching for
us, their prey. We see them crest the hills behind us, swing
round, and ready for the chase."
BREAK POINT IN SCENARIO.

536

We

Tyranny of the Downbeat

537

Tyranny of the Downbeat

538

"Their dragons spit fire and flay the ground. Brutal force destroys
a fragment of our plan. Yet the images survive. Two of
us are dead. Our fate will surely be the same. This is how The
Order will freeze the status quo in place."
"We bring you the reaffirmation of
a person's right to participate in
the result of wealth, position, or
purpose elites. It is the ability
dispassionately see and understand
behind the words and postures."
BREAK POINT IN SCENARIO.

an ideal long forgotten. That
the democratic process is not
the influence of special
to intelligently and
the truth in a man's heart,

Tyranny of the Downbeat

539

Tyranny of the Downbeat

540

"This is the message of the moment. To expose misuse and abuse
of money, power, and influence is to embrace basic morality; to
accept personal responsibility, and to master your fate."
"In the morning, you will face yourself, your family, and your
conscience. Each of you will have experienced the events of this
evening through your own unique personal perspective. For a brief
time, a channel of communication was opened, above the din
of The Order, so that we could share a moment in parallel with
each other."
BREAK POINT IN SCENARIO.

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541

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542

Tyranny of the Downbeat

The mechanisms were nearly spent. The Point helicopter had met
the same fate as The Mirror. And the viewers had ridden shotgun.
They had seen and felt the sting of The Order. Perhaps some
applauded. Many more listened to their hearts pounding hard
against their throats. Would the images on this once familiar
screen ever again seem real? The people were no longer a passive
participant, but rather an active witness to the consequences of
rebel ideals and imagination confronting the shallow face of The
Order.
The path of The Arrow was being calculated and verified by The
Order at this very moment. Everyone realized that The Order was
only minutes away from terminating the images of The
Info-Visionists.
The words were few. The images rich with suggestion that those
who follow the paths of ideals and change will soon come to this
crossroads. Many generations had forgotten the sacrifices that
had created and maintained this democracy. They would not forget
this night, as they rode shotgun with The Info-Visionists.
"Outside, we feel the wolves draw near. We watch their fire and
remember being held hostage by their 'truth,' their dreams, their
past. Beyond this screen, the world waits. The Future does not
pre-exist beyond tomorrow. May your vision and actions achieve
the possibilities and promise of change."
END OF SCENARIO.

543

Tyranny of the Downbeat

544

Tyranny of the Downbeat

545
CHAPTER 36

It is when the hidden decisions are made explicit that the arguments
begin.
-- Garrett Hardin, "The Tragedy of the Commons"
The final showdown was at hand.

The "on-line" was finished.

It was time to prepare the video press releases.
would air the next Monday.
running the week before.

The documentary

The press releases would start
But first, bowing to his undying sense

of fair play and justice--and in a final attempt to convince
Borba and those he represented to take responsibility for their
actions--Elliot offered to screen the documentary in advance for
them.

The rest of the production team, including Delgado and

Valle, Reisner, Pope, and Palmer, would see it the next day.
It is just another warm night in what seems like an
endless string.

It is almost steamy.

It is so still you can

hear the Ralston Symphony tuning up for one of its outdoor
performances in the band shell.
In the murky room, wisps of smoke float past the flickering
television monitor.

Faces are silhouetted against the blue light

of the reality they are witnessing.
and Santiago are leaden dead.

The eyes of Borba, Delancy,

Occasionally, they turn to look at

each other, then to their "guides" and back to the monitor.
Elliot, flanked by The Mole and Laura sitting, Western, Devereaux,
and Walsh standing nearby.
As the closing music begins, I bring up the lights.

Borba

speaks first, menacing but cornered.
--Borba

"It's all bullshit, Lincoln.

You'll never get it

Tyranny of the Downbeat

546

to air."
--Elliot

"Try and stop me."

--Borba

"Do you have any idea how much money the people I

represent pump into broadcast television?"

Feeling the corner

against his back.
--Western

"Not enough."

--Santiago
listen.

"Enough that the network decision-makers will

They always do."

--Borba

"Money talks."

--Walsh

"And bullshit walks."

--Santiago
difference.

"Even if you do show it, it won't make any

We've been in politics and media long enough to know

that people just won't care."
--Elliot

"Didn't you once say that the American public gets

90% of its news and information from the television?
believe it.

And they'll care."

--Delancy
--Laura

"Then we'll see you in court."
"That's exactly where we want to be."

--Santiago
expertise.
business.

They'll

"Why'd you do it?

It's not what you know.

It's not your area of
It's really none of your

What did you expect to gain?"

--Devereaux
--Borba
--Elliot

"Hope for the future."

"Sixties horseshit!"

He was panicking, manic.

"None of you probably read the industry trades,

or even the grocery store tabloids.

But if you did, and if

you'd taken the time to learn more about me, you'd know that I
can't have children.

And I can't have them because I'm sterile.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

547

When I was growing up, I drank water from a well fed by
groundwater.

Water that was contaminated by people like you and

the agrichemical conspiracy you represent!"
--Western

"And whose tracks you covered with money."

--Delancy

"Conspiracy and cover-up?

charges.

I hope you can prove them?

Pretty serious

Slander and libel can be

very costly."
--Elliot

"I think I just did."

He gestures to the

television, now blank.
--Santiago
--Elliot

"What do you plan to do with it?"
"We've arranged separate screenings for local,

state, and federal officials, and the media.

Then it'll begin

airing on the networks in its present form.

We'll cut a three

minute version so it can run as a short subject in the theaters."
--Western

"We'll also make copies available for schools and

public service organizations.

We may even give copies to the

larger video rental chains so they can loan it out."
--Laura

"Parts of it will be introduced as evidence in

court."
--Santiago

"You won't reconsider?

Maybe give us an

opportunity for atonement?"
--Elliot

"Not possible.

I haven't any compromise left in

me."
--Borba

"I see.

--Devereaux

Then we'll be going."

They stood.

"Be sure to tell Mr. DiGiulio what you've

seen."
Borba is pulled up short, as if someone had just yanked his

Tyranny of the Downbeat

strings.

548

"Sure thing, Devereaux."

As he passes the monitor,

he stops, then turns to look at the group, then back to the TV.
As he lashes out, knocking it off the table, Elliot watches it,
floating in slow motion, until it shatters against the floor.

He asked for a glass of water.
asked anyway.

He knew where it was, but

He stood, balanced himself on the back of the

chair, then walked over to the wet bar.
trudging through mud.

He felt like he was

He drank one, then another glass.

the cool water run over his trembling hand.
in the smoked mirror above the sink.
bleeding they were so bloodshot.
dregs.

He let

He looked at himself

His eyes appeared to be

Rock bottom again.

Down to the

Put your ass on the line for people and what do they do?

Kick you in the nuts.

Then wipe their feet on your ass as they

step over you on their way out.
He remembered the priests.
they looked with saddened faces.
do, they told him.

There was nothing they could

It is out of our hands, they confessed.

is God's way, they murmured.
of you, I say.

They were sorry they said, as

It

Then God damn His ways and the rest

When I needed you, none of you were there.

And

now, this man, the one I thought I could count on, has proved
he's no different than the rest of you.
and humanity holds?

Is this what compassion

Then I'll have none of it!

Like it's always been.

It's up to me.

Out there on my own.

He saw the heavy figure in the mirror's reflection.
confess.

I have transgressed.

was not in church.

I must

He swung around and realized he

This was not a confessional.

That was not

Tyranny of the Downbeat

the holy father.

549

It was The Padrone, limping parallel to the

wall with the window overlooking the winery.
"What will we do now, Padrone?"
"I will continue with business as usual."

The singular

stung John Anthony's cheek.
"Did you hear any of what I just told you?
goes to air, we're all ruined."

Once this thing

He desperately clung to the

collective.
"I believe you are the one who wasn't listening, my son."
He stops pacing behind his desk and holds out his two large
hands.
find?

"Whose hands are bloodied?
Certainly not mine.

Whose fingerprints will they

I do not recall giving any orders.

do not recall setting any of these events in motion.

It would

appear that all this was the result of a few over-zealous
lieutenants.
general.

Soldiers taking the initiative to protect their

Staffers intent on sheltering their superior.

I

ordered nothing."
"They may see it differently, especially after they hear
what I have to say."
"I doubt they will believe you.

I don't even believe you.

How do I know what you did, or did not do, once you left this
office.

I only know what you said and did while you sat here."

He slowly leans down and opens a drawer in his desk.
out an audiocassette and points it at Borba.
these.

He lifts

"I have hours of

Transcribed and in the computer system."

"And no doubt edited."
"I am prepared to turn all of them over to the authorities.

I

Tyranny of the Downbeat

550

I intend to survive this tempest, as I have the others.

You,

however, will not."
"The courts will have something to say about that."
"Yes, the courts.
anarchy.

And all the officials who protect us from

You seem to forget whose side they are really on."

Thrown to the wolves by the master manipulator.

Just

another player in his dirty little game of control.
The Padrone crashes into the side of his desk, ducking as
the glass of water sweeps past his face and through the window.
A slash of water stretches from where Tony had stood, cutting
across the carpet to the window, where The Padrone watches the
large door swing slowly shut.

Elliot expected someone to call that night.
surprised when Borba did.
control.

He wanted to talk.

So he wasn't

He sounded out of

Elliot hesitated, but agreed to meet him at the Ice

Plant at ten.
Borba looked bad.

DiGiulio must have cut him a new asshole.

"There's nothing I can do, nothing I can say or offer, that will
change your mind?"
"It's so easy for you people to turn your back on what
you've done.

To find a way out.

Not this time.

You won't get

another chance to do it again if I have anything to say about
it."
He looked away from Elliot, then down at his feet.
the gun came out, Elliot was not surprised.
ask you for everything.

When

"Then I'll have to

The masters, the edited master, and all

Tyranny of the Downbeat

551

the copies."
"Won't make any difference.
well.

You know this business much too

I've already vaulted a number of copies and given several

release copies to stations and the papers.
of you would try something.

I had a feeling one

You've done it often enough in the

past."
"I knew that.

But I hoped you might be careless."

"Then don't you be."
Borba looked exhausted, broken.
and he knew it.
everything.

He was no longer in control

It was a new sensation; not being on top of

The man who once had so many options now had none.

The cool of the Ice Man had been shattered.
"Don't go down alone.

Take them all with you.

Everyone who

put you where you are now."
Borba rubbed his eyes and shivered.
"It just doesn't matter anymore.
"Then think about it.

It was all unraveling.

None of it."

You can make it through this and do

some good at the same time."
"Do you have any water around here?"
desperation.

He looked wide-eyed in

"I really need a glass of water."

"Sure, over here."
gun came out.

"Easy now.

Elliot started to move, but stopped as the
This is getting really stupid.

Don't make

it worse than it already it."
Borba looked down at the gun and cocked it.

"I think it's time

we finished this."
"Don't be insane.
Don't blow it!"

You've still got a chance to survive this!

Tyranny of the Downbeat

552

"That's what the priests said.
all lied to me.

All of you!"

They lied to me, too.

You've

He leveled the gun at Elliot.

Elliot, pinned against the low shelf holding the monitor, spoke
very carefully.

"There has been a camera on you the entire time.

Everything you have said has been recorded."
"I knew that.

The electronic last confession."

"Then put the gun down and we'll both walk out of here."
"Can't do that."
"Why not?"

The smallest panic in his voice.

"It's gone too far."
Borba straightened up abruptly, shakily, his legs unsteady.
Elliot jumped, startled, raising his hands to block the bullets he
expected.

Borba turned to the monitor and fired.

the television exploded.

Borba slowly and deliberately, again in

slow motion, turned back to Elliot.
back the hammer.

He lifted the gun and pulled

Elliot stood frozen in fear of the inevitable.

Borba smiled, put the gun in his mouth, and fired.
in super slo-mo.

In slow motion,

Pictures at eleven.

Elliot saw it all

Tyranny of the Downbeat

553
CHAPTER 37

There's
What it
There's
Tellin'

something happening here,
is ain't exactly clear.
a man with a gun over there,
me I've got to be-ware.

I think it's time we stop, children, what's that sound?
Ev'rybody look what's goin' down.
There's battle lines bein' drawn,
Nobody's right if ev'rybody's wrong.
Young people speakin' their minds,
Gettin' so much resistance from behind.
Paranoia strikes deep,
Into your heart it will creep.
It starts when you're always afraid,
Step out of line the men come and take you away.
I think it's time we stop, children, what's that sound?
Ev'rybody look what's goin' down.
You better stop, hey, what's that sound?
Ev'rybody look what's goin' down.
-- Stephen Stills, "For What It's Worth"
The water project, now entitled "Tyranny of the Downbeat,"
aired the following week.

Slotted behind "Monday Night

Football," and before the premier of the new fall shows, it stood
a good chance of being watched by a significant number of people.
The circus atmosphere surrounding the premier--the video press
releases, articles in the trades, and coverage on cable and
network interview shows--guaranteed sufficient pre-broadcast
interest to generate a solid response.

The grisly coverage of

Borba's suicide added just the right touch of macabre
sensationalism to suck in the entire tabloid audience.
Print journalists and the electronic media, stumbling and
clawing over each other, fought like jackals over a carcass in

Tyranny of the Downbeat

554

their attempt to capture the moment with just the right cliche.
Many were already referring to it as a "landmark event".

Hailed

as a return to the grassroots activism of the Sixties, most
journalists characterized it as the first real attempt by private
citizens to use the power of the media to effect wholesale
change, instead of just selling a product or philosophy.
Some were already speculating about the trial that would
certainly follow; a case that was likely to set precedents
regarding criminal negligence and corporate liability.

A few

even predicted that the companies and their top officers would be
prosecuted for negligent homicide.

They hinted that

successful prosecution on those grounds would result in
punishment that was not, as before, a matter of fines and
community service, or a simple "slap on the wrist".

Instead, it

would mean some expensive fines and some serious prison time.
The documentary itself would surely only be an appetizer to the
banquet these reporters would surely feast at once the trial
began.
Most of California watched.
did too.

A lot of the rest of America

The overnight numbers were good.

A broad spectrum of

the population listened to the narrator's introduction as he
spoke of the agribusiness conspiracy to control California's
water; of the innocence or guilt of the farming, agrichemical,
and political community for their environmental insults.
Now, it was up to the American public.
If one could belief the reviews, news accounts, and
follow-up stories the following day, it appeared as if Elliot

Tyranny of the Downbeat

555

Lincoln and company had succeeded.
the persistence of his vision.

The media praised Elliot and

He was congratulated over and

over for his courageous stand.
His morality tale had finally been told.
his philosophy, might just have triumphed.

His way of living,

It was almost as if

life had taken a brief step backward, imitating the movies of the
Fifties, when Elliot was growing up.

Movies with resolved

endings, where good really conquered evil.

Elliot may have

actually stirred the "vast wasteland".
But Elliot wasn't feeling it.
He wondered.

The shifting of the balance.

They may have listened, but had they really heard?

Did they recognize the inevitability of what would surely take
place if they didn't do something.
One sector of the viewing audience had heard everything loud
and clear.

Every officer of every major corporation doing

business in the public sector knew the significance of this
program.

They knew a change in public opinion could seriously

affect the future of American business, especially as it related
to corporate responsibility and environmental liability.

For

them, there wasn't enough resources--people, time, and money--to
be invested in the immediate response and the coming battle.
The small stone that Elliot cast that day following his
reunion in Ralston now sent ripples that rocked corporate and
political America.
There were demands for congressional hearings and a grand
jury investigation.

There were demands for at least a civil, and

perhaps, a criminal trial, seeking a cash settlement and

Tyranny of the Downbeat

556

injunctions against the use of pesticides and continued subsidies
of irrigation water for the west side.

Some officials were

preparing to prosecute OxyGene, The League--and hopefully the
DiGiulio Winery--for misuse of the public trust, stemming from
their willful and knowing conspiracy to contaminate groundwater,
as well as the resulting cover-up.
There were also charges of bribery, as well as obstruction
and tampering with the investigation of federal officials.

Those

political representatives involved faced congressional censure
for misconduct and ethics violations.

Their lawyers would be

brought before the legal ethics committee and faced possible
disbarment.

A federal grand jury would begin conducting hearings

into the role played by government officials at all levels in the
conspiracy and cover-up.

And there would be a full report from

the federal Office of the Inspector General.

In addition, there

would be a class-action suit filed on behalf of all the people
living on the west side who had been exposed to selenium and
contaminated groundwater.
The authorities were especially interested in talking with
Jon Henry Miller.
Those who had been named--directly, by implication or
association--immediately took steps to disassociate themselves
from The League, The Combine, and DiGiulio; all the people once
represented by Borba and Delancy.

As the panic spread, the cuts

began to run deep.
The Padrone, clothed in absolute anonymity and confident
isolation, simply went out and got the very best legal talent and

Tyranny of the Downbeat

557

let them prepare "engineer the response".
That's what Stephan Harrington called it as he covered the
story in the weeks following the broadcast.

He was struck by the

parallels between Nixon's "Watergate" and DiGiulio's
"Groundwatergate".

ALTA CALIFORNIA
----------------------------------------------------------------GROUNDWATERGATE
The unmaking of a conspiracy
BY STEPHAN HARRINGTON
OF THE RECORD STAFF
As the noose began to tighten, the facade of unity among
agrichemical companies, the corporate farming combines, and their
political cronies started to unravel. The old loyalties had been
shattered.
There was fear and concern about who would be indicted.
There was confusion about who ordered what and who ordered whom.
No one knew would be sacrificed. The mood was, "It's every man
for himself. Get a lawyer and blame everyone else."
Sound familiar? It should. Just change the names. Instead
of Nixon, try DiGiulio. Try the "Valley Education Fund" in place
of the "Committee to Re-elect the President".
It's all here. "Deniability and dirty tricks, plumbers and
back-room boys." Shredded records, secret slush funds, and
laundering.
These men, like those before them, became arrogant. They
lost their perspective working the corridors of power. They knew
they had only one job to do. Keep the water flowing. Whatever
it took. And whatever they did was justified in the name of the
greater good for the larger cause.
Their disdain was their downfall. They became careless and
a little sloppy.
Everyone denied it, but they had to know. About the money,
the conspiracy, and the cover-up.
Now it was time to "engineer the response". It didn't mean
telling the truth then and it doesn't now.
President Nixon was impeached by public opinion. As a
public servant, he could be reached and punished. All the
President's men were prosecuted on criminal charges, but the
President was pardoned.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

558

Robert DiGiulio may not share the same fate as the
President. He may not be prosecuted because there may not be
sufficient evidence to bring criminal charges. And, as a private
citizen running his own privately-owned corporation, the public
cannot touch him. Except to boycott his products.
DiGiulio is a patient man. He has all the time and money in
the world. And the public has a short memory. He will survive.
And return triumphant. Nixon had.
Harrington's last article on the politics of water would
prove prophetic.

The crack of shotgun and small arms fire was unusual.
the flares.

The DWR didn't usually work at night.

migrating birds this time of year.

And

There were no

The sheriff's helicopter gave

it away.
A spray of dust kicked up behind Miller's pick-up, as it
careened on three tires south along the Santa Fe Grade.

The

fourth had been shot out at the roadblock by a CHP officer, just
before Big Jon wounded him, firing through the broken-out
windshield.

There was nothing like a valley night in the

summertime, as the night air starts to cool the day.
good on his sweating face.

It felt

He wiped the salty perspiration out

of his eyes so he could see the dirt road in the dark.
The flashing red light broke into his thoughts.
shotgun pellets must have hit his radiator.

Some of the

He was out of water.

The truck started to lurch and jump as the engine vapor-locked.
It died.

He put it in neutral and jumped.

It weaved crazily to

the side of the road and into the drainage ditch, rolling over
several times before it stopped on its back.
around.

Then headed east.

He looked up and

He wasn't sure where he was going.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

Maybe to the foothills.

559

If he could get there, he might hide

out in one of the caves he'd explored as a kid.
He froze as the searchlight stabbed him.
along the edge of the refuge.

Then he ran left,

He was almost there.

He could see

the bleached wooden gate of his gun club just ahead.

He was

through and inside the club, looking for guns and more
ammunition, when he heard them.
Asian.

The migrants.

Hispanic and

They stood in the half-light of the arc lamp spilling

through the broken window.

The man in the middle--the one

leading the others--was someone he knew.

He looked like him,

too.

In his hand he held a

He was the brother of Jimmie Quon.

baseball bat.
Miller crashed through the back door and headed east again.
He knew there were field trucks at the next ranch over.
started that way, then stopped.
silhouette stood straight ahead.
someone hit him from behind.

His way was blocked.

He fell face forward in the dust.

stomach and they hit him again.

refuge.

He rolled on his

He kept rolling, they kept

Until he rolled to a dead stop at the edge of the
Quon moved him with his foot.

hard in the ribs.

Still nothing.

edge and into the pond.
toward the center.
bitter.

A

Miller lifted the rifle, but

He rolled over on his back and they hit him.

hitting.

He

Nothing.

He poked him

Quon nudged the body over the

It turned and began floating, face up,

He wasn't happy, not even satisfied.

"How symmetrical," he thought.

die in something he killed."

Just

"That this man should

As Miller's body slipped beneath

the surface, he dropped the bat into the dirt with a soft, dusty

Tyranny of the Downbeat

560

thud, then silently disappeared into the sultry Valley night.
Soft winds blowing the summertime
Young lovers feel so free
Walking hand-in-hand down a shady lane
What happened to me?
What happened to me?
Did you ever love a girl, who
Walked right out on you?
You should know just how I feel, then
Why I'm so blue
Why I'm so blue
Well I made up my mind
I'll find a new girl
Who'll love me tenderly
Forget the past I left behind, now
To sad memory
To sad memory
Soft winds blowing the summertime
-- Richie Furay, "Sad Memory"
They had been dismissing the obvious all morning long.
didn't make it any less painful or frustrating.
And Miller.
players.
DiGiulio.

It

Borba was dead.

Those who would stand trial were mostly minor

Apparently, there would be no criminal charges against
It could not be proven, or verified, that he had

ordered, or been responsible in any way for, any of the crimes
committed.

There might be a civil trial for environmental

crimes, but DiGiulio would have his day in court to answer those
charges.

Providing it ever got to court and he was still alive

when it did.
The ringing doorbell gave them an excuse to take a break.
Pat poured another cup of coffee while Laura went to the door.
When her heard her gasp, he rushed into the dining room.

He

Tyranny of the Downbeat

561

stopped when he saw her crying against his shoulder.
met Billie's.

Billie smiled and Pat simply touched his forehead,

in silent salute to the obvious.
back door.

Pat's eyes

He turned and left through the

As he walked down the driveway that ran beside the

house to his car, he heard the front door shut with a dull thump.
Across town in the Delgado Building, James David was reading
the same newspaper reports.

He was disappointed.

DiGiulio's

power and influence were obviously far greater and more deeply
entrenched than his own.

The Padrone had covered himself well.

He would be allowed to continue, back to business.
escaped the carefully crafted trap.
law.

The tyrant had held fast.

revenge had been thwarted.

He had

He had remained above the

And The Puppetmaster's plan for

For now.

Delgado settled into the

back seat as the door of the white limousine slammed with a heavy
thud.
At the airport, I watched her back disappear down the
ramp.

I hadn't planned it that way.

choose it by letting it happen.

Or had I?

I guess I did

She had become one of the

photographs; one of the memories sitting among the trophies and
souvenirs.

Sad because she was special.

each other.

We were just better apart.

Hemingway:
all."

We had been good for
I remember reading

"They say the seeds of what we will do are in us

It just took fifteen years to realize it.

I pictured the

last of her turning the corner as they pulled the cabin door
shut.

And I felt that part of my life close with a hollow thump.

Take me to the station

Tyranny of the Downbeat
And put me on a train
I've got no expectations
To pass through here again
Once I was a rich man
Now I am so poor
But never in my sweet short life
Have I felt like this before
Your heart is like a diamond
You throw your pearls at swine
And as I watch you leaving me
You pack my piece of mind
Our love was like a water
That splashes on a stone
Our love is like our music
It's here and then it's gone
So take me to the airport
And put me on a plane
I've got no expectations
To pass through here again
-- Keith Richards & Mick Jagger, "No Expectations"

562

Tyranny of the Downbeat

563
CHAPTER 38

When you get there, there isn't any there there.
-- Gertrude Stein
You say you want a revolution
Well you know
We all want to change the world
You tell me that it's evolution
Well you know
We all want to change the world
But when you talk about destruction
Don't you know that you can count me out
Don't you know it's gonna be alright
You say you got a real solution
Well you know
We'd all love to see the plan
You ask me for a contribution
Well you know
We are doing what we can
But if you want money for people with minds that hate
All I can tell you is brother you have to wait
Don't you know it's gonna be alright
-- John Lennon & Paul McCartney, "Revolution"
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert ... Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
-- Percy Bysshe Shelley, "Ozymandias"
We sat enjoying the late evening breeze on the wide front
porch of The Ranch library.

The low sun was dappling through the

oak trees, quilting our faces and the white-slatted railing.
Walsh nursed a beer.

So did I.

Elliot twirled a half-full

Tyranny of the Downbeat

tumbler of iced tea.
house.

564

Pachelbel's "Canon" played inside the

Time standing still induced reflection.

--Elliot

"When I think about Borba, I think about all those

men and women who blindly served Jim Jones at People's Temple."
--Western

"Not possible.

He was Portuguese.

He considered

himself part of the Third World."
Elliot stared without focus.

"I'm talking about the young

lieutenants surrounding Jones."
--Walsh

"He still wasn't wonder-bread white like they

were."
--Elliot

"I don't mean skin color.

all grew up in California in the Sixties.
anti-intellectual, and sanctimonius.

I mean attitude.

They

The young,

Wasted on ideologies.

Unable to clearly see through their own self-righteousness."
--Western

"Most of those kids grew up affluent.

permissive atmosphere.
--Elliot

In a

Borba didn't."

"Let me get to my point, all right?"

They shrug their shoulders.
--Elliot
self-inquiry.

"As a group, these counter-culture rebels lacked
None of them ever really examined their

assumptions about politics, groups, religions, or leaders."
--Western

"Blind Faith, 1968."

I did like my musical

allusions.
--Elliot

"What they, and People's Temple, showed us was the

lack of a central social mission.
idealism of the Sixties.
We set everyone up.

They just couldn't sustain the

That's what was wrong with the Sixties.

We gave them expectations.

We raised

Tyranny of the Downbeat

565

issues, looking for the truth."
--Western

"And then we bailed out.

There was no follow

through."
--Elliot

"We asked the questions but didn't take the time

to find the answers.

There was no closing act.

And those who

believed it, who got caught up in it, were left dangling."
--Western
--Walsh
--Western
Guayana.

"Sort of like Mike Prokes."
"Who?"
"The guy from Ralston who was with Jim Jones in

Escaped 'the kool-aid acid test'.

Then blew his brains

out in a Ralston motel bathroom just prior to telling all at a
news conference."
--Elliot

"That's what I mean.

We set him up.

Made him

think he could change the world."
--Western

"So, you're saying when Prokes killed himself, he

did it because he had lost sight of his original goal?"
--Elliot
its scar.

"Partly.

He was a survivor.

It compromised him.

And Jonestown left

Corrupted his spirit.

couldn't live with himself and with the shame.
claims it can help the victims.

He

This society

But what does it know about

healing those with great crimes on their conscience?"
--Walsh
--Elliot

"So, what's the point?"
"People like Prokes--and Borba--traded one idol

for another.

One ideology for another.

One blind belief traded

for another.

One pursued the cult of personality, the other the

cult of power.
--Elliot

"Both followed Messiahs.

Borba, a good Catholic

Tyranny of the Downbeat

worshiped Christ.
Jones.

566

Prokes, an average white boy, worshiped Jim

Both were seeking better worlds."

--Walsh

"And they simply followed misplaced ideologies."

--Elliot

"They couldn't see through those ideologies.

When

they acted, they did things they couldn't live with."
--Western

"And they killed themselves because of the

burdens they carried."
--Elliot

"I guess I shouldn't be so surprised.

I remember

something I saw in a magazine, or maybe it was a book.
doesn't matter.

It

Anyway, it was an interview with Michael Cimino,

the guy who directed 'The Deerhunter' and 'Heaven's Gate'."
We look at each other, our eyebrows raised in recognition of
what we know is about to come.

The reaction doesn't go

unnoticed.
--Elliot

"I should have listened more carefully.

me how the government would act in this case.

It told

Whose side they

would really be on."
We both lean back, preparing for the history lesson.
--Elliot

"Cimino was discussing the historical

background that formed the basis for 'Heaven's Gate'.

About

the role played by the federal government when they were faced
with the war that had started in Johnson County, Montana.

He

quoted a statement made at the time by then President Benjamin
Harrison.

Harrison said:

state to prevent violence.
authorities.'

'I can do nothing except act with the
Everything else rests with the state

In other words, the highest source of law

enforcement in the land was abdicating his authority to the money

Tyranny of the Downbeat

567

and power of the ruling class.

He was telling the cattlemen that

he expected them to maintain law and order.

As they saw it.

And

if they had to kill a few filthy immigrants in the process, to
keep anarchy from reigning, he was giving them the power to do
that.

Don't you see?
--Walsh

That's what happened here."

"They supported the people with influence."

--Elliot

"Sure, the people in government weren't about to

shoot themselves in the foot.

They knew who put them in power

and who was keeping them there."
--Walsh

"The PACs."

--Western
--Walsh

"Like Borba's Valley Education Fund."
"Supported by money from DiGiulio and OxyGene."

--Elliot

"And that will keep the dams going up."

--Western
--Walsh

"And the water flowing."
"And the pesticides pumping."

--Western

"Despite the fact that they know, and we know,

it's harmful to the public."
--Elliot

"That's okay.

They'll make the compromise.

They'll rationalize it as the greatest good for the greatest
number."
--Walsh

"Or the ones with the most money and the greatest

influence."
--Western
--Elliot
little

...

"And that's not us."
"I once thought differently.

" he hesitates, then finishes:

I guess I was a
"

...

blind."

refused to say the word, but he knew I had been right.
Elliot stared down the curving driveway.

He was thinking

He

Tyranny of the Downbeat

568

how life always did remind him of scenes from a movie.

This time

he thought of all those movies made in the Sixties with
unresolved endings.

That reversed the expected order of things.

He remembered something he once read.
things.

"Uncertainty is the way of

There isn't going to be any final truth.

trackless.

The path is

There is the illusion of the end point.

don't get THERE.

But you

What finally happens is you accept that you are

on a different journey."
He thought, as well, of the movie that had been a fellow
traveler throughout this journey.

Again, it was "Chinatown."

It was John Huston, symbol of the rich, powerful, and
influential.
he had.

Allowed to go free because of who he was and what

In dollars and dirt on those conducting the

investigation.

He truly was above the law.

Elliot recalled discussing "Chinatown" once with
screenwriter Robert Towne, who had said:

"I approached the movie

from the point of view that some crimes are punished because they
can be punished.

If you kill somebody, rob or rape somebody,

you'll be caught and thrown into jail.

But crimes against an

entire community you really can't punish, so you end up rewarding
them.

You know, those people who get their names on streets and

plaques at City Hall."
Life certainly did imitate art and history really did repeat
itself.

The parallels were numbing.

He finally realized,

sitting there, the truth of the cliche that the more things
change, the more they stay the same.
impact.

He thought he could make an

That he could use his influence to change things.

But

Tyranny of the Downbeat

569

he had only become part of the unending cycle of greed and
corruption.

He had been derailed, like so many before him, by

special interests, politics, money, and influence, as well as the
apathy and disinterest of the public.
--Elliot
--Western
--Elliot
right.

"You know, there are no more happy endings."
"Never were."
"It's a misrepresentation.

'Easy Rider' got it

The world as we know it can yield only one ending.

Death

and disintegration."
His disillusion was choking him.

People had died.

had been hurt so others would be more "aware."

People

He had put his

life on the line to tell people something they really didn't want
to hear.

And nothing significant had happened.

there will always be a next time.

He thought,

And people will be no more

aware, no more organized, no more outraged than now.

He guessed

there would always be another someone foolish enough, naive
enough to think they could make a world of difference.
Elliot had given it his best shot.

He had done what he knew

best; using the storytelling skills he had refined his entire
life, to move people toward enlightenment and action.

He had

fired a volley across the bow of public opinion and into the void
of the vast wasteland.

He had stirred the beast.

Momentarily.

There was movement; some sign of life, a cry for change.
got suddenly very quiet again.

The beast was insatiable.

Then it
It had

moved on in search of new delights to titillate; new wonders to
behold.

Those who would move us must shock us someone had once

written and Elliot now believed.

The attention span of this

Tyranny of the Downbeat

570

behemoth was too short to assimilate and sustain such a
transformation in attitude.
But, more importantly, Elliot was very concerned.
future.

About the

The one-reeler inside his head had projected what the

future was going to look like.

And it didn't look good.

I went down to the cross roads
Fell down on my knees
Asked the Lord for mercy
Save me if you please
I was standin' at the cross roads
Tried to flag a ride
Ain't nobody seem to know me
Everybody passed me by
You can run, you can run
Tell my friends before the sun goes down
Lord, I'm standin' at the cross roads
I believe I'm sinkin' low.
-- R. Johnson, "Cross Roads"
Walsh and I decided to take one last run out to the refuge.
Have a few beers and take our parting shots.

The light was

getting low on the horizon. Summer was fading fast.

Soon it

would be fall and, then, a new year.
We stood side-by-side, leaning against the front of the
pick-up.

The summer's breeze was kicking up.

sun made everything golden, timeless.
of a field bordering Masterson.
tranquil, inviting.
evening.

The late afternoon

We stood in the middle

The pond looked peaceful,

There were no DWR men firing shotguns this

The migrations would be starting soon.

might have no place to stop.

This time they

The refuge might be drained,

bulldozed into a pile and buried.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

571

I kicked at one of the hedgerows in the field.
covered with a thick layer of salt.

It was

"Look at this shit.

believe these people were so stupid.

I can't

They killed the land that

fed them."
"It's money, honey.
money, they went for it.

If cultivating more land meant more
Even if the land got poisoned."

I picked up a handful of salty earth and let it sift and
drift slowly between my fingers.

"Salt is gonna kill this

planet."
"Water to water.

Desert to desert.

"Ashes to ashes.

Dust to dust."

Salt to salt."

The dirt fell with a thud on top of the casket.

The parish

priest gave a blessing as Borba's wife, family, and friends paid
their last respects.

Because he had been so generous and good

to the church during his life, they gave him a special
dispensation during death, allowing him a traditional Catholic
burial, despite the fact that he had committed suicide.
"Standing here sort of feels like the final scene from
'Monte Walsh.'"
"God, we have been around Elliot too long."
"No, come on.

The one where the two friends realize the

days of the open range are over.
cowboys.

That they're the last of the

That they're going their separate ways

"Don't get sentimental on me.
"Yea, right.

...

forever."

Shit, not now."

So, it's back to LA then off to DC for you?"

"And San Francisco for you?"
"I'm not sure.

I've been thinking about sticking around for

Tyranny of the Downbeat

572

a while."
"You mean going back to Ralston?"
"Maybe."
"You sure that's a good idea?"
"No.

They probably won't even let me past the city limits."

"Well, you've heard it before.
"But it is what I know.

You can't go home again."

It's shaped me.

I'm a valley boy.

I am what it made me."
"Some of that's good, some bad."
"Oh well, who knows."

I drained the last of my beer and

threw it into the back of Walsh's pick-up.
"Any way, this is it for now, amigo.

Give my best to Di and

the boys."
"Can do."
"See you real soon."
"Look for me when you see me comin'."
We looked at each other, then embraced.

A few quick pats on

the back and we were apart, heading for our trucks.
climbed in, and fired up the engines, we nod.

As we

Then, Walsh

shouted out, "Hey, asshole, gargle my balls!"
"Yea, bite me!"
We both hit it, just once more.
dovetailed out of the field.

Going back in time, we

Pulling up side-by-side, we smiled

and were gone.
From the coast range, rising gently up from the valley
floor, you could see two trucks racing down the road.
cross roads, one turned south.

The other turned north.

At the

Tyranny of the Downbeat

573

The native son was laid to rest in the earth of the San
Joaquin Valley.

The land he loved, then almost killed.

There

were not as many people in attendance as might be expected for
someone who was once so powerful.

Ozymandias ruled no more.

shovel-loads of dirt thumped against the wooden casket.
drummer, playing the downbeat.

Well I was born in a small town
And I live in a small town
Oh, the small communities
All my friends are so small town
My parents live in the same small town
My job is so small town
Provides little opportunity
Oh, I cannot forget from where it is I come from
Cannot forget the people who really love me
Well, I can be myself here in this small town
And people let me be just what I wanna be
Well I was born in a small town
And I live in a small town
Probably die in a small town
Oh, and that's just where I wanna be
Well, I was born in a small town
And I can breathe in a small town
Gonna die in a small town
Oh, and that's probably where they'll bury me
-- John Mellencamp, "Small Town"

The

Like a

Tyranny of the Downbeat

574

THE FINAL WORD:
In a carefully wrought compromise among environmentalists,
the state and federal governments, the Bureau of Reclamation
agreed to carry out the state-ordered bulldozing of the Masterson
Wildlife Refuge.

The DiGiulio Winery, OxyGene, the Marriposa Combine, and the
Westlands Water and Power League were fined and ordered to pay
damages to all who could prove pesticide-related health problems.

The EPA developed a new, more stringent set of standards for
protecting groundwater.

Sandy Western's self-image problem died one October's night
when he missed the on-ramp to San Francisco in the fog.

And Elliot Lincoln returned home to fantasy.

The only reminder you'll find of John Anthony Borba is a
freeway.

In his honor.

Running straight as an arrow, right

through the heart of the Valley.

Tyranny of the Downbeat

575
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

My heartfelt thanks to:
David Dolan for contributing "The Engine of Change."
George Rogers and Brenda Martinez for their diligent and patient
research.
Lillian Vallee for taking the time to take a look.
Roman Loranc for his spectacular photography of the Central Valley.
The poets, writers, and songwriters whose words inspired me.
And Robin Johnson for being there.

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