George Beres: An Independent View - Reality of War

College veterans bring reality of war to the stage

By George Beres
For the Beacon

College students today have not marshalled their efforts to speak out against the war in Iraq as their fathers' generation did in the '60s and '70s about Vietnam. There are a few exceptions, one of them a Springfield resident, Jason Alves.

He and a few other students of courage used the newly renovated theatre of the Eugene American Legion Hall to give audiences a most personal view of what today's militarism really demands of our youth. Jason and his fellow students at the University of Oregon are veterans of war who have survived – physically – and returned to college to rebuild their lives.

"Our play, `Telling,' gave us an amazing opportunity to share with an audience the support many of us need after having returned from combat in the Middle East," said Alves. "These are things we normally don't talk about, because none of us wants to revive those memories."

Jason and his fellow actors are rare - college students who have undergone military trial by fire. They were young, and chose to volunteer. Their peers, in college and out, aren't required to undergo "training to kill" because there has been no draft during the Gulf War and the fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan. It was different during Vietnam, when all males were vulnerable to being drafted and winding up in combat. Their own skins were on the line back then, and that energized them to march in the streets to oppose that war.

"I had it easier than some," said Alves, "because I was in the navy, so served on a ship instead of in the sand. Still, it was an emotional rollercoaster from the beginning."

The "rollercoaster" had a startling start in basic training, especially in marines boot camp. It started with a level of loudness and profanity from the cadre who trained them. If they were going to be convinced to kill, every other word – as they portrayed in vignettes on the stage—was the f bomb, delivered at painful decibels from a cadre mouth just inches from a trainee's ear.

The language was a necessary link to the non-human level of training. But it wasn't suitable for children. One couple with two children chose to leave soon after the cadre language patterns began.

I remember that brainwashing from basic training at Ft. Leonard Wood, Mo., before I was shipped to Korea. But it was nowhere near as intense as that demonstrated for us by the veterans now enrolled at the UO.

One of the student actors angrily shouted, "People don't support the troops with any understanding of what the troops go through! If you have not been in combat, you have no idea what we were going through!

The production was conceived by UO faculty members after they sat in on veterans panels that described realities of war as they experienced them. They worked with the student veterans to create this novel stage experience where each individual, including two women, told of personal trials in the military.
Boot training was prelude to the trauma of blood and death in combat in Iraq and Afghanistan. "It seemed to have nothing to do with what we were doing there or why we were there," said one student-veteran. "But the blood and death inflicted on us become very personal, happening to people you know. But one doesn't hesitate. One just must move on.”

Said another: "When you are in that alien world of war, you live for those itty-bitty moments, rare times when you can do anything except the horror you are paid to be part of."

What keeps the soldier going is the feeling of responsibility to his or her buddies in battle. A painful legacy of being safely back home is the guilt felt by veterans who still sense a responsibility for their buddies who are fighting - not being there to help protect their friends.

The performance of each actor was real because it came from personal experience. It was not easy to express. As one said: "These are things we normally don't talk about, because every time we tell our stories, we are there again."

George Beres - An Independent View: "Buying Time"

LCC play has ominious overtones for control of law and education

By George Beres
For the Beacon

Enlivening a fictional story with a strong taste of reality is one of the goals of good theatre. "Buying Time," currently at the Blue Door Theatre of Lane Community College succeeds at this admirably.

In a way, that also is a misfortune, because the reality it brings us is an existing cancer of society: the way powerful corporate forces are able to manipulate the better intentions of a law firm. What struck me is the ominous overtones is gets from such a system I have seen also at play on the university level – specifically in the Oregon System of Higher Education.

Last Friday evening, I – like much of the audience – was engrossed with the way the play's many scene changes were handled with a revolving floor that caused one set to disappear as the new one appeared. I was told that smooth-running mechanical system was installed specifically for "Buying Time."

What was more engrossing was the way Broadway playwright, Michael Weller(who also was in the opening night audience), used his play to illustrate how corporate manipulation works when a law firm with a pro bono tradition can be pressured to stop its public service efforts. Intervening are powerful corporate clients who object to its positive environmental goals.

At issue is protection of 15,000 acres of a pine forest which serve as home for a grey hawk – a situation which resonated with the Oregon audience familiar with the spotted owl controversy.

A Springfield woman who is a member of the production crew, Amanda Loop-Kremers, told me: "This play, coming to us during a major election season, suggests that the way corporate powers control the law profession can be used to dominate political parties, too. We've seen how both major political parties are influenced by powerful corporations that give them big money donations. That can't be corrected unless we can get some serious reform of campaign financing. But even a playwright can't seem to come up with an answer for it."

As Weller's script suggests, we assume no one can be "above the law."

That's not the case, as his protagonists show us how law firms committed to some pro bono work in the public interest can be hamstrung. They sometimes have to make hard choices when corporate foes of public service threaten to cancel their large contracts with such firms.

Weller told me he knows that higher education increasingly is finding itself in the vulnerable financial position of pro bono law firms. He said that is because the growing absence of college funding-as in Oregon, where tax revenues for education are down- means universities now must turn to private donors to help pay their bills.

He was interested in two Oregon examples I described to him that symbolize what he feels can happen when schools allow themselves to become obligated to major donors:

• The dropping of the UO Environmental Law Center when a major donor among lumber interests said he would withdraw a $50,000 donation to the school unless the Center were removed.

• The threat by a major donor to withdraw his multi-millions for expansion of Autzen Stadium because the University had signed on with the Worker Rights Consortium (WRC), which monitored his firm and others for misbehavior. The University went to Higher Ed for help. It got it when the State System ruled membership in the WRC hereafter (and retroactively) would be illegal. Then the donor came waddling back with his major gift.

Weller did not say one of his next plays will deal with the way corporate donors can dictate university policy. But I'd not be surprised to see that theme the next time he has a production on Broadway.

Remaining performances at 8 p.m. on Feb. 14, 15, 16. Phone 463-5761.

George Beres - An Independent View: Ending Cubs Curse

Springfield strawberry patch could end infamous baseball curse

By George Beres
For the Beacon

Springfield could have a role in ending the greatest all-time curse of sports history. What makes it possible is my chance encounter some years ago with two fellow strawberry lovers in a Springfield U-pick patch. Out of that chance meeting came the idea for an exorcism of the notorious baseball curse.

The hex in question is known among baseball fans everywhere as the Billy Goat curse. It was invoked by a Greek barkkeep in Chicago in 1945. That was the last time the Chicago Cubs ever played in the World Series, even though to that time they had played in more of them than any other National League team. The barkkeep was thrown out of one of the games against Detroit because he had brought with him his tethered goat to sit in one of his two box seats.

Fans complained of the barnyard fragrance, and as security police ushered him and his goat out, the man sputtered in broken English. “Okay! Okay! We go. But never again will World Series be played in this stadium.” True to his curse, the stadium- Wrigley Field, the oldest in the league- has not hosted another Series game in 62 years.

The barkkeep’s name: Sam Sianis. It will have a familiar ring for some area residents, as his cousin, Harry, once operated the Original Joe’s Restaurant across from Eugene’s Hult Center for the Performing Arts.

That brings us back to the Springfield strawberry patch where I met Harry’s wife, Alexandra, and daughter, Katina. It was quiet there except for their lively banter in Greek, a language I understand. I greeted them in our second language. When Momma said their name was Sianis, I said, “I know of a Sianis who has become famous in Chicago where I used to live.”

The elder responded with mock tolerance, “Yes, yes, he is our `koumparo’, the cousin of my husband and the godfather of my daughter.” As a lifelong, frustrated Cubs fan, I suddenly saw possibilities for ending the curse.

“I’ll be in Chicago next month,” I told them. “Do you think your `koumparo’ would discuss the baseball curse with me?”

“Of course,” Alexandra answered. “He discusses it with everyone he meets. Go to his bar, and tell him I said he should give you a free beer and what he calls a cheeseborrger.”

Weeks later, I was sitting with Sam in his bar, enjoying a free beer and cheeseborrger. When I suggested an exorcism of the Billy Goat curse, he said, “Bravo.” He had milked the curse for all the attention he could get. Now he could see chances for more free publicity if he were to cooperate in reversing the curse.

My next step was to visit with actor Don Novello, who portrays Fr. Guido Sarducci on the “Saturday Night Live” TV show. We met the evening of his appearance at the Britt Festival in Jacksonville. He agreed he was the one to exorcise the ballpark. A psuedo-cleric could pull the stunt the Catholic Church would not allow one of its priests to do. Only one hitch: someone would have to sponsor the event so he could get his five-figure appearance fee.

I’m trying to find an organization that can pay that fee. Maybe a potato chip? Or a beer? Or maybe even a chewing gum like Wrigley’s Juicy Fruit?

When that day comes, Father Guido will exorcise Wrigley Field. Then the Cubs will win the pennant after lo these many years- and a Springfield strawberry patch will earn lasting fame.

George Beres - An Independent View: Obesity in Football

Football players seek heavy weight even though obesity is a student problem

By George Beres
For the Beacon

Nowhere is the problem of obesity among adolescents more visible than among football players in high school, continuing on into early adulthood in college. That's borne out by the growth in player weights over the past 30 years.

There are seriously overweight persons of all ages who are not responsible for the problem, but victims of genetic makeup. Rarely is that the case among high school and college football linemen whose weight mushroomed more than any other group in recent years. Best way to trace the change is to review team rosters I have from 1987, 1997 and 2007.

That's easy to do for the the University of Oregon as I go through files I've maintained for three decades. It's not so easy for the Millers and Colts, whose files don't carry roster lists of years ago. What we know is that last fall a 300-pounder played for Thurston, while players of 290 and 280 pounds played for Springfield.

Those weights reinforce the growing concern that two factors are at the root of this explosion in poundage: the temptation to take steroids – none evident among local players – to build muscles along with weight, and the belief that overeating will develop the physical mass well beyond natural levels. For Mom and Dad, calculating the major cost of college, a football player son can improve his chances for a scholarship by tipping the scales to their peak.

Matt Binkerd, Springfield director of athletics, said he has his coaches discuss with players dangers of ingesting supplements. "The state school system has a ruling that alerts high school administrators and coaches to warn students against use of steroids," said Binkerd.

Thurston head football coach, Justin Starck, said while the obesity problem is one faced by society in general, "football players probably face the biggest temptation to inflate their sizes. But," he added, "I've not seen our players involved in trying to boost their weights beyond the normal."

The Journal of the American Medical Assn. and the Journal of Pediatrics this year published articles about how the problem of increasing weight among high school football players far outpaced that of fellow students. Both suggested it often is in an effort to attract attention of college recruiters. A study of 3,600 high school linemen in Iowa found half of them overweight for their height and bone mass.

I've found evidence of such dangerous growth in college by comparing weights of players in 1987, 1997 and 2007. This is how they compared at the University of Oregon:

1987 - 300 pounders, one; in the 290s, none; over 250, nine.
1997 - 300 pounders, four; in the 290s, three; over 250, 26.
2007 - 300 pounders, 14; in the 290s, six; over 250, 28.

Last fall, Oregon started an offensive line (center, guards and tackles) averaging 315 pounds. Rosters of two major football powers suggest an even more startling difference if one goes back to 1971: Michigan State then had three players over 250, and the heaviest was 264. Minnesota had four over 250, and the heaviest was 260. Over the years, their weight levels have ballooned like those of all teams.

In fairness to some of the behemoths, those who earn starting positions usually have admirable agility to go with their huge size. But the warning signs are there. The rigors of being an overlarge lineman during youthful playing days exert a heavy penalty of ailing knees and hips in later life.

The price can turn out to be heavier than players.

George Beres - An Independent View: A messy marriage?

Could marriage of donor and university include a prenuptial agreement?


By George Beres
For the Beacon

A recent letter to the Beacon by Springfield's Arvid Freiberg gave credence to what this column previously revealed about funding of higher education in Oregon: too much is going to non-essential, intercollegiate sport, while academics continue to suffer. He recognized the financial devolution of academia compared to varsity athletes with these words:

"Hold on to your hats as "big donors" ram a new basketball complex down our throats."

It was ironic when that same week, the University of Oregon announced the State System of Higher Education again had given in to its funding subterfuge. Many buy the oft-used lie that varsity athletics support themselves through major gifts and gate receipts. Truth is, much of such funding is tax money many citizens – from Portland to Springfield to Klamath Falls – are on the line to pay. That was evident with the announcement that the legislature's Ways and Means Committee agreed to use a bond measure to guarantee payment of what now looms as a cost of more than $200 million.

Cost of construction is one thing. Payment of bond interest is another, estimated at $14.5 million annually for what in effect is a 30-year mortgage. The UO had wanted 40 years to pay back that massive bill, but the committee – with a limited sense of responsibility – ruled it had to be 30 years. The University, committed to deficit spending on a facility I believe is not needed, chose to take a pollyanish positive view of the restricted years in which to pay. Alan Price, Vice-President for University Advancement, said: "By going on 30 years instead of 40, we'll save substantial in the long term."

On the other side, there are those who find Mac Court would be serviceable and more than adequate for decades to come if the equivalent of one year's interest in new gym bonds provided the old gym money for upgrading it for more years of use.

A misleading view often given to justify spending on varsity athletics and their facilities is they support student activities. That becomes ludicrous when you calculate the small proportion of students served by multi-millions spent on Autzen Stadium expansion and a new gym. On the same page of the Oregon Daily Emerald that announced legislative agreement on bonds for the gym, a chart illustrated money proposed for several non-athletic student programs:

•Jewish Student Union, $6,764.
•Honk Kong Student Assn., $4,178.
•Japanese Student Union, $6,601.
•Ecological Design Center, $279.
•Sexual Assault Support Services, $43,957.
•Global Talk, $300.

Irony of the claim of serving students is clear, reinforcing an image of duplicity the UO builds for itself in financial matters with a pliable State System. It was equally evident some years ago when an incensed Phil Knight said he'd take back the many millions he pledged for work on Autzen if the University did not withdraw from the Worker Rights Consortium, the watchdog that monitors his Nike and other corporations for wrongdoing with its employees overseas.

The State System responded to the UO's potential loss by making membership in the WRC illegal. Then Knight again reversed himself, and gave the money. Now the UO points to another gift from Knight as backup in case it fails to meet payments on a new Mac Court.

I wonder: In this messy marriage between a corporate dictator and a state university, could there have been a prenuptial agreement allowing the donor to take back a pledge if he does not like the way things are going?

George Beres - An Independent View: School Nickname Controversy

Mohawk Indians are part of Oregon's school nickname controversy

By George Beres
For the Beacon

There was a time when the majority was unmindful of how use of nicknames for sports teams could torment minorities. To some extent, that time remains with us, though diminished by a growing awareness of the problem among sensitive citizens and school officials who represent them.

That’s especially true in Oregon, where an advisory committee to State Schools Superintendent Susan Castillo has explored how to encourage “culturally appropriate instruction in high schools” on the issue of Native American nicknames. In the Springfield area, the issue is live at Marcola’s Mohawk High School, whose teams, including last fall’s state divisional football champions, are known as the Indians.

They’re far from alone in carrying a nickname that is in dispute. There are 14 others in the state. Others with the Indian name are Molalla, Roseburg, Scappoose and The Dalles. Braves is the name used at Banks and Reedsport, while Rogue River has the name Chieftains to itself. Warriors is carried at Amity, Lebanon, North Douglas, Oakridge, Philomath, Warrenton and Siletz Valley.

It was a student at Siletz Valley who first challenged the school system about concern over the names felt by his fellow Native Americans. A member of the Confederated Tribes of the Siletz, he described how use of the ethnic nicknames damaged their personal esteem and self-image. That is when state education meetings were held to discuss a proposal, not as yet reached, to ban use of Native American mascots at the 15 schools which have them.

The majority view among citizens statewide seems to oppose any ban. Is that a shallow outlook by people unable to sense what it is like to wear the shoes or moccasins of a minority? So it seems when a basic objection they raise, outside of a loyalty to an abstract tradition, is the cost to schools for removal of printed or painted references to Native American nicknames, mascots and logos. The conflicting views will be considered in the months ahead while a Sept. 11 date is considered for the ban if it is instituted.

Principal Rola Weber of Mohawk High School told me he doesn’t “minimize seriousness of the complaint,” but has not indicated a decision in Marcola. He said: “We need much more dialogue and study for our student body to better understand concerns of the Native American population. We’re seeking ways to teach Oregon history in a way that would correct what may be curriculum deficiencies on Native American culture.”

Resistance to the ban is reflected in the statement of Roseburg School District superintendent, Lee Paterson. He said: “We have no data that shows how an Indian mascot does harm.” Exploration of the issue by state school officials may be able to give him some insights into the harm, especially when a student minority is personally affected.

It has to be hard for school officials to take an unpopular public stand against the majority attitude no matter how unjust the majority view may be. I saw it from personal experience at my hometown high school in Pekin, Ill. It was natural for Pekin to take on a Chinese identity because of the town’s name. What seems inconceivable to me now is that the school nickname of its teams for decades was Chinks!

As a student, I was unaware (as were all others in the town of 20,000) that Chink is considered a slur by Chinese. The town found out in the mid-‘60s, when it gained statewide attention by winning the Illinois basketball championship. Pekin had no Chinese residents. But there were many in Chicago, 180 miles to the north, and they reacted. Resistance to changing the name in Pekin was strong, but it came within four years, when the name was changed to Dragons.

Unintended nickname bigotry in Illinois had an impact in Oregon three years ago. Some students and faculty of the University of Oregon objected to plans for a two-game series with the University of Illinois Illini, a nickname in serious dispute at the NCAA level. Major objection has been to the use of a mascot, Chief Illiniwek, a cause of resentment for many Native Americans. The mascot last year was dropped.

So it can be done. It may not be easy. Some have such loyalty to a nickname and mascot that they find it hard to consider the special meaning- positive or negative-that name has in the ethnic history of those from which it was borrowed.

That’s what such names in dispute, as in Marcola Indians, are on loan. When the owner no longer can abide its misuse in a foreign setting, it’s time to give it up.

George Beres - An Independent View: Legacy of Oleg Kripkov

By George Beres
For the Beacon

It was natural for the late Oleg Kripkov to keep a low profile, which kept few from knowing he was a Springfield resident. It came naturally because Oleg spent most of his 52 years in Russia when it was the center of the repressive USSR, where addresses for some were secretive. His residence in Springfield the past year was just east of the Gateway shopping complex. When he died in an auto accident, Dec. 19, it took from us a rare person who tried to be a bridge of understanding between two long-warring nations, Russia and the United States. He had a close personal perspective on both, having migrated to the U.S. in the early 1990s, after spending most of his first 35 years in Rostov-on-Don south of Moscow.

It’s not surprising that a great sense of loss is felt by his colleagues at the University of Oregon, where he taught Russian history. What astonishes me is the widespread depth of feeling that I’d not seen before except in the death of a major national figure. It was reflected in comments shared on the internet. Said one: “The impact of Oleg’s life transcends time and space, making all who knew him better. A spirit like his never leaves.” Another: “Oleg was a gifted and deeply energized force of nature, and I don’t expect to see another like him. His life was a great gift to all who knew him.”

I got to know Oleg only in the last year of his life when we shared occasional meals and discussions on life and politics. The emotional response of others to his premature death at 52 caused me to want to learn more about Kripkov the man. I discussed with others what made him a man valued by so many, and one not to be forgotten.

He and his wife, Yelaina, were immigrants from Russia after the fall of the Berlin Wall. They eventually joined the UO faculty, where Yelaina is Russian language coordinator. They were preparing to teach together courses on Masterpieces of Russian Culture and on Sexuality and Feminism in Russia.

It was not an easy climb to full acceptance in academia for this child of a Russian ghetto. He was raised by his mother after his father left the family, and at this time of year would reminisce about his hauling buckets of water from the neighborhood well during frigid Russian winters.

He brought his wife, mother and daughter (now 28) to the U.S., settling first in Tulsa, Okla. A student of piano, he managed to survive at the outset by playing the bayan, a Russian accordion, in Polish, German and Italian restaurants. He learned English from scratch, and eventually earned college degrees, including a doctorate from the University of Kansas, going on to teach Russian history, language and culture.

His struggles for seeking world peace with justice never diminished from the years when he was under surveillance by the KGB (the USSR’s equivalent of the CIA). As his students gained from him an intimate understanding of Russia, they also valued his faith in the healing character of humanism, reflected in his support of environmental groups and his involvement in anti-war actions in the U.S.

In 2003, he joined Oregon’s Bill of Rights Defense Committee at the state capitol in Salem to oppose the USA Patriot Act. A fellow demonstrator remembers Oleg saying: “The Patriot Act goes even beyond Stalin’s wildest dreams.” This had impact on his fellows, coming from a man who had fled the Soviet Union after defying that restrictive government by advocating for democratic reform.

As a boy in the USSR, Kripkov learned the folly of dictatorship. Later in the U.S., he saw the same folly from what he recognized as democracy deserted by many of its citizens. “The Cold War,” he told me, “was a calamity produced by failed and self-serving leadership in the USSR, as well as in the United States.”

He would have agreed that even a full lifespan would have been too short to achieve his aims of a just world peace. Those who knew of his courageous honesty echo the belief of one of his colleagues: “Because of Oleg, many of us hesitate less, and truly live our beliefs more.”

A memorial service will be Jan. 12, 6 to 8 p.m., at Core Star Cultural Center, 439 W. Second, Eugene.

George Beres - An Independent View: The Money Game

Academics come in 2D in Oregon when TV offers a big football check

By George Beres
For the Beacon

Kids in Springfield have been shooting baskets for more than a month. But football refuses to give up. The many football bowl games now played in winter remind me of how college sports have changed for the worse since I was part of them.

Most of my professional life was as a sports information director at Northwestern University, then the University of Oregon. I savored it back in the 1960s and 1970s. I'm grateful to be out of it now because excessive hype and spending have ruined college games.

Effects are evident at Oregon and Oregon State, as every fan in Springfield should know. No better example can be found than the reason the Ducks and Beavers changed the date of their annual windup football game this year to December. That's a week later than earlier slated. Why?

The Oregon campus newspaper, the Emerald, explained weeks ago: look no further than the conflict between funding higher education and underwriting costs of varsity athletics. That took a turn at the UO when two former heads of the UO Faculty Senate and the University president went at it in the local press like wrestlers battling for a pin.

The professors -- Nathan Tublitz, Biology, and James Earl, English -- alleged that out-of-control spending on varsity athletics damages students and faculty. The response was that the school's fundamental principle is not money, but that athletes are students first.

Then came the Emerald bombshell. It reported that Oregon-- tempted by a large rights payment from a TV network-- got Oregon State to join it in violating their six-year old resolution to not schedule a football game near finals week. The agreement was to avoid game distractions for athletes and other students going into finals.

At the insistence of ESPN-TV, they agreed to play this fall's game, Dec. 1, just before start of exams. It's the result of Oregon, with OSU approval, moving the season's wind-up game back to accommodate an ESPN request that shifted Oregon's Nov. 10 game with Arizona to Thursday, Nov. 15. That prevented playing the Civil War game on its original date. It required an inactive Saturday, which was an ironic disaster for the Ducks when they were upset in Tucson in the mid-week game.

The money issue has festered since it was announced Bill Moos, athletics director until last year, was resigning, but also was getting a goodbye gift of $2 million. Such payments are part of severance when someone is asked to leave, not when one chooses to leave.

Lying is not foreign to college sport. I know from experience as a sports information director, when I, like my colleagues nationwide, would inflate heights and weights of players in media guides at requests of coaches. That was trivial, and sharp sportswriters saw through the subterfuge. Not trivial is the lying suspected when Moos departed early.

Some close to the program suggest the change was at the demand of a major donor and alumnus, Phil Knight of Nike, whom Moos occasionally challenged. The suspicion is fueled by how the Nike multimillionaire used his influence a few years ago to counter the UO becoming part of the Worker Rights Consortion (WRC), which monitors employee relations of corporations, including Nike.

Knight threatened to renege on his promise of millions for expansion of Autzen Stadium unless the University withdrew from the WRC. If you're part of Labor, as I once was in the IBEW, you'll understand such a management ploy. Within weeks, the State System of Higher Education ruled it was illegal for its schools to be in the WRC. Then Knight came waddling back to alma mater with his Nike gold nuggets.

The issue transcends sports. It reveals the growing threat to independence of higher education everywhere from corporate donors who feel they can assert their will on schools because they bought that right with big donations.

One can understand state schools turning to corporate donors for money as state aid diminishes. Citizens are thankful for that generosity-- but not when donors see it as license to exert their will on academia, as in hiring and firing coaches and directors.

Some feel schools are becoming Corporate U. If so, that would solve all financial problems. But it would mean destruction of academic integrity, which-- as the Emerald alerted us-- already has begun.

(The writer is former University of Oregon Sports Information Director.)

George Beres - An Independent View: Jeepers!

Moscovitz replaces Bah! Humbug! with Jeepers Creepers

By George Beres
For the Beacon

Charles Dickens would have been appalled! Jeepers Creepers instead of Bah! Humbug!? That was the new style expletive used by former Springfield city executive, Mike Moscovitz, as he played Scrooge in a mid-December production of “A Cracked Christmas Carol” at the Pleasant Hill Community Theatre.

The far-out adaptation of the Yule classic by local TV personality, Fred Crafts, was his first effort at play writing— more accurately, play adaptation. Were it to be taken seriously, the adaptation would have faultered. In the spirit of the season, and with a fine effort by a local cast of a dozen actors led by Moscovitz, it was fun shared by audiences at three performances.

As the printed program acknowledged, the work was a blend of the Scrooge theme, some jokes that were old in the days of vaudeville, and some snappy oneliners from Crafts himself. Among the latter:

•(Scrooge) I can’t take any more of this. What’s next? Waterboarding?
• I couldn’t warm up to Scrooge even if I were cremated with him.
• Tiny Tim’s baseball coach placed him on the disabled list.
• (A ghost) I’m just doing what comes supernaturally.
• The Cratchit family supper: diluted ketchup packets.
• (Scrooge) Son, buy for me the turkey in the grocery store window— the one as big as the Oregon Ducks mascot.
• Scrooge”s favorite Christmas carol: “Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer.”

Among the borrowed jokes Crafts used was the Jack Benny classic where he has difficulty making up his mind when a mugger says: “Your money, or your life.” It was funny again, though it had little to do with the plot.

Borrowing an idea from the recent Wildish Theatre production, “It’s a Wonderful Life,” actors had no staging to worry about. They spoke into microphones in a simulated radio drama. In the cozy comfort of the Pleasant Hill Theatre— seven tables of eight persons each— they did not need the amplification of the live mikes, which sometimes blared.

Makeup and costuming were not needed, although Moscovitz gained visual impact by wearing a long white wig that hung down to his shoulders.

Somehow, Crafts worked the Lone Ranger and a gay Tonto into the last scene, eliciting another “Jeepers Creepers” from Scrooge. That, at least, was in synch with the 1943 setting of the pretend radio show.

Maybe I was the only one old enough to remember, but a novelty hit tune of the early ‘40s was “Jeepers Creepers, where did you get those Peepers? Jeepers Creepers, where did you get those eyes?”

Our modern day Scrooge remembered.

George Beres - An Independent View: Major Scoop

Oregonian choice to ignore a story gives Beacon a major scoop

By George Beres
For the Beacon

It's rare the Springfield Beacon could get a story that is a national scoop over the Oregon daily press especially The Oregonian and Register-Guard of Eugene. But it can happen, and this column is proof.

Back on Oct. 24, two distinguished and controversial authors in the nation spoke at the Hilton Hotel in Portland. Professors John Mearsheimer of Chicago and Stephen Walt of Harvard made a one day-stop on their tour of the nation. They spoke about their new book that has brought them attention worldwide: "The Israeli Lobby and U.S. Foreign Policy."

I got an invitation to the news conference that preceded the talk, and battled rush hour traffic to get there. I walked in just in time-- and was stunned. The guests were seated at a table, and I was the only reporter there. The Oregonian did not show. No TV nor radio reporters were there. The guests were courteous to me in the half-hour before their ballroom talk for the World Affairs Council of Oregon. They answered my questions at length.

But for the big question – where was everybody else – there was no answer.

The next day I called the lead columnist at the Oregonian, an old friend, Steve Duin, to ask if he knew why his paper did not cover the story.

"I'm not the right person to ask," said Steve. "I know you realize the paper can't cover all stories."

That last comment was tongue-in-cheek. Steve knew this was the big story in Portland that day. Outside of a terrorist attack, nothing would have kept the major media from being there. There was no other competing story, especially for a paper that has dozens of reporters.
The incident was nothing new to the speakers. Mearsheimer said their talk a few weeks earlier for the Chicago Council on Foreign Affairs had been cancelled at almost the last minute. The Council told him it was reacting to complaints from several Jewish and Zionist groups, mainly AIPAC, that objected to the talk. The explanation, he implied, was in the title of his book, a subject the Israeli lobby nationwide has gone to great lengths to silence.

They are not alone as lobby targets. It succeeded in having an invitation to Archbishop Tutu withdrawn before he was to speak in Minnesota. President Jimmy Carter has been taken to task by Israel apologists because his book referred to Apartheid in Palestine. These are significant people facing efforts to prevent them from freely expressing themselves.
Here is part of what Mearsheimer and Walt told me at my "private" news conference:

"AIPAC has boasted – and it's true – that it defeated for re-election candidates who raised any kind of question about Israel. They include prominent Illinois Senators Charles Percy and Adlai Stevenson, a Republican and a Democrat. That was enough to strike terror into the hearts of senators who were reconsidering their Middle East votes in behalf of Israel. Party backers of Stevenson wilted under pressure. One-time AIPAC executive director, Tom Dine, said: "American politicians got the message."

The AIPAC lobby's muscle has been flexed in Oregon, too. Former Israel Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu came to Oregon to stump in behalf of Sen. Gordon Smith when he made his successful run for the Senate. Smith did not need Israeli money. But the visit was a clear message about the importance of his votes for Israel.

Its efforts paid unexpected dividends for a former Oregonian, the late Illinois Sen. Paul Simon. Simon was a big underdog running against Percy in the mid-1980s. Simon, a long-time friend, told me: "My campaign manager was astounded by the unexpected flow of money my effort was getting. It was coming from Jewish groups I'd never encountered. Their point, I guess, was to teach Sen. Percy a lesson about loyalty."

The lesson, Simon told me in private, was learned by many elected officials. Unfortunately, it was that loyalty went to a foreign nation instead of to the United States.