Occupy Portland - Quit whining, Occupiers! Move on!

Uh-oh.  This could get embarrassing.

The Occupy Portland folks had a little press conference outside City Hall this morning.  Spokesperson Alaina Melville read an "open letter" to Mayor Adams.  Some choice quotes:

[Protesters] were greeted by hundreds of militarized riot police armed with tasers, stun batons, beanbag weapons, tear gas pepper spray and live ammunition. This was shocking to many of us who did not expect you to respond to unarmed, peaceful and joyful protest with potentially deadly force.

You told us on the first day of our protest that you were sympathetic to the goals of our movement and wanted to help find a solution that works for everybody.  The behavior over the weekend of police officers under your command has clearly indicated otherwise. Yours is the latest in a string of aggressive, dangerous crackdowns by city and state governments across the nation attempting to silence the Occupy movement.  --Occupy Portland, via spokesperson

Oh, brother. 

Occupiers, can I give you a little advice?  You know?  As a friend of the movement?

1. I saw what happened on Saturday night.  Yes, the police were in riot gear.  What of it?  No rubber bullets were fired.  No tear gas was dispersed.  I've said it before, but I'll repeat it now:  Portland Police (including Mayor Adams and Chief Reese) handled the demonstration very well.  If you start crying every time somebody trips on the pavement, or gets put in handcuffs, or gets his feelings hurt, you're going to lose public sympathy in very short order.
   
2. Why, Occupiers, are you wasting your energy bitching at Sam Adams?  Even if you think he handled the situation badly, neither he nor the police nor the City are responsible for the current sorry state of our nation.  Go after the villains, not their butlers.

Public attention is heady stuff, so I can forgive being wistful at the thought that the spotlight might be moving on. But, if you're really concerned with effecting change, I'd advise that you lay off the manufactured drama and focus your energies on making life uncomfortable for the big banks, the insurance companies, the resource extraction industry.

You know? That other 1%?

Occupy Portland - Breaking camp

Minutes from Mayor Adams' deadline, an Occupier watches the camp dissolve

Friday night on Newshour

On Friday night, Newshour's Jeffery Brown interviewed Mayor Adams and a spokesman for the Occupy Portland demonstration, Jim Oliver.

Both men acquitted themselves well.  Mayor Adams was reasonable and he saluted the goals of the Occupy movement.  Classy, I thought.  Mayor Adams' handling of this protest has raised my opinion of him as a leader considerably.

Oliver did well, too.  He expressed the larger sentiments behind the Occupy movement clearly and distinctly.  I was on board with everything he said up until the clanging defiant note near the end:

"...our encampment is firmly entrenched in Chapman and Lownsdale squares, and we intend to stay there."

I've held that the protest was unsustainable, almost from the beginning.  Oliver's remark was at odds with everything I'd seen. 

Moral authority, the virtue of the cause, was the strength behind the Occupy Portland movement.  As the camp became less and less a demonstration by political activists and more and more a hotbed of objectionable behavior (the assaults and overdoses, the attempted arson), that moral authority was eroded.  And without it, the Occupiers can never muster the resolution needed to continue to defy Mayor Adams and the City of Portland.

I intend no disrespect to the demonstrators, but Oliver's remark seemed desperate and pathetic.  Empty bravura. 

Saturday morning

So, next day, I went to see for myself.  I arrived at the Occupy Portland camp around midday.  Things were bustling.  People were breaking camp.  Voluntarily.

There was some grumbling ("What happened to 12:01am?" was the kvetch I heard repeated), but there could be no mistake:  the Occupiers were on the way out.  They pulled up their tents.  They packed up their gear.  KBOO was gone.  The kitchen was dismantled.

Big police presence

Police were everywhere.  They clustered around the camp while city workers dragged debris to the curb along 3rd Street.  Wooden pallets, tarps, litter.  Dump trucks hauled it all away.

Lots of garbage

Tension was low.  But it's not as if there ever was much tension between the Occupiers and authorities.  The only tension I ever experienced in the camp occurred at nighttime when mentally-unstable vagrants wandered about, producing a low-level menace with their ranting and behavior.

"Joseph or Tequila, whichever you like" holds court

I had my eye out for Occupiers I'd met personally over the weeks.  But I saw only the young man from Cinncinati, "Joseph or Tequila, whichever you like."  He sat on a bench in the middle of the disintegrating camp, surrounded by people who looked to be curious Sunday strollers (like me).  They asked questions and listened to him describe life in the camp.  "We were a family," he said.

I noticed his use of the preterite tense.  "So they know it is over, too," thought I.  "So much for Jim Oliver's 'we intend to stay' remark." 

Dismantled kitchen

No one should expect message discipline from the Occupy movement, of course.  But when a clarion call proves to be false and empty, credibility suffers. 

Portland City Commissioner Nick Fish chatting with local news

One hour to go

That night, after viewing the new Clint Eastwood flick (more about that in a future post), Maty suggested we drive by the Camp to see how things were progressing.

Maty and the cops

We arrived downtown about 10pm.  Traffic (both cars and pedestrians) was thick around the camp.  The cops had erected light towers and the entire Chapman/Lownsdale area was lit up like a high school football field on game night.

"Let's go look!" Maty said, to my utter astonishment.

We scored a lucky parking space on Taylor, then walked back.

The camp was chock full of people.  A discerning eye could see, however, that most of them were spectators --weekend revelers, come to see the show.  Many of the Occupiers were already gone.
     

A crowd gathers as midnight approaches

Maty and I went to a nearby restaurant and ate a late supper, then went by the camp again.  The clock read 11pm and the crowd was growing.  Growing and getting louder.  But there was still no tension.  I saw a young woman with a sign that read "Be peaceful.  Be gentle."  Neither cops nor demonstrators wanted trouble.  The rowdiest elements were the Saturday Night clubbers, well into their cups, who stood by and hoped for some live entertainment.

"Nothing is going to happen," said I.

"The police just wait two or maybe three hours, then everyone gonna go home," Maty said.  She chuckled.

What now?

So now the demonstration is over.  Or almost over.  As I write, media reports (CNN, no less!) indicate that some holdout elements of the Occupation have moved to Pioneer Square.  Whatever.  It's over.  Let's move on, Portland.

I want to express particular gratitude to City Police.  They've been great throughout the whole ordeal.  Respectful and reassuring and competent.  Good to see.  The force has come a long way since the Vera Katz days.

The Occupy Portland demonstration may be over, but hopefully the movement will live on.  Effecting change, reforming entrenched power structures, is surely not easy.  But squatting in public parks is not the ticket.  That tactic succeeded in capturing public attention. It may have helped achieve political victories in last week's off-year elections.  It may have played a role in Bank of America's decision to nix their plan for a usurious new fee.

But the tactic is not sustainable.  It's been an expensive demonstration for Portland tax-payers, between the overtime pay for Portland's finest and the costs of rehabilitating Chapman/Lownsdale.  Tax-payers are the 99%.  The very people the movement purports to represent.

The movement needs new methods of expression.  Find a way to make things expensive for irresponsible corporations.  Find a way to stick it to the Man, not the tax-payer.

Occupy Portland - Mayor Adams draws a line

Police Chief Reese stands by as Mayor Adams announces a deadline for protesters to evacuate Chapman/Lownsdale

Yesterday, Mayor Sam Adams laid it down for the Occupy Portland protesters:  At 12:01 am on Sunday, November 13, the City intends to clear Chapman/Lownsdale.  Protesters must leave or face arrest.

The mayor cited the increase in crime around the encampment as justification for his decision. Disturbing events over the past several days (drug overdoses, an attempted arson) provide strong evidence in support of the mayor's reasoning.  Quoth he:  "Crime, especially reported assaults, has increased in the area. Occupy has had a considerable time to share its movement's message with the public but has lost control of the camps it has created."

He continued:  "I want to make clear: this action is not an action against the Occupy Portland movement ... My hope is [the movement] will flourish in its next phase ... with a focus on economic justice, not Port-a-Potties and tents."

I agree with the mayor's decision.  I've been to the camp quite a few times.  And as I've said from the beginning and in spite of my sympathy for the cause, the protest as it exists is unsustainable. 

Little Beirut loves itself some left-wing causes and I'm as down with it as anyone.  But, rather than an active, organized protest, the Occupy camp has become a magnet for street derelicts and mentally-deranged homeless people.  The flimsy, improvised camp infrastructure is overwhelmed.  Sanitation and safety deteriorate apace.

I don't doubt that there will be trouble when Chief Reese and his officers move in on Sunday morning.  But I'm hoping that the responsible protesters (and there are responsible protesters) have the wisdom to recognize that the current tactic, setting up tents in the park across from City Hall, is not working.  At least, not here in Portland.

By all means, let's keep this Occupy movement alive.  It is drawing much-needed public attention to the economic injustices that are throttling the common people.  But there has to be another way.

Occupy Portland - What to do?

Pioneer statue in Lownsdale Park does double-duty as tarp support over Occupy Portland kitchen

Friday night, Dave Hauth and I trekked down to the Occupy Portland camp.  Dave, like me, is sympathetic to the movement.  Also, like me, he's a left-leaning urbanite (which is odd when you consider that we both come from small Oregon towns east of the Cascade mountains).

Dave had not yet seen the camp and was curious.  Quoth he:  "If I'm going to defend this movement against charges that it's just a bunch of dope-smoking hippies, I need to see it for myself."  Wise words that reveal Dave's fundamental integrity.  He's an idealist.  Not the easiest thing to be in this jaded age.   

Informative bulletin posted along the camp thoroughfare

Well, we saw what we saw, but I'm not sure we agreed about what it was. 

We took seats on a bench in the middle of the camp.  A steady stream of people passed along the walkways.  Some were mentally-unstable street derelicts, some where rowdy young people like those one sees at an outdoor music festival or the Oregon Country Fair. 

I saw the tall fellow, "Joseph or Tequila," whom I'd met several weeks before, and exchanged a few words with him.  Three Hispanic men sat smoking in La Esquina Latina; I spoke to them in Spanish, but they replied in English.  KBOO radio was broadcasting live.  A fellow with close-cropped hair and an abrasion above his left eye manned the Art tent.  He was friendly enough, despite his rough-and-tumble appearance.  Portland's finest were on hand as well.  We saw two officers standing at the corner of 4th and Main, chatting it up with some of the Occupiers. 

There was a big huddle at the Information tent.  I spotted Raya Cooper amongst the huddlers, and I called to her, but she was intently involved with the discussion. 

"There's no order here, Dave," I said.  "It's anarchy."

Dave shrugged.  "I guess I'm not as bothered by it as you."

"Let's be real, Dave.  I don't know what the Occupy protests are like in other cities, but this one, here in Portland, seems half-assed.  We can talk about support from the community, but, really, it is the Portland taxpayers that are subsidizing this protest.  The City services the public restrooms that the Occupiers are using.  The City pays the salaries for the cops that patrol the camp.  This 'protest' is tax-payer funded.  Not that we mind doing it, mind you.  Most people in Portland, in Little Beirut, are disgusted by the status quo.  Any movement that expresses outrage at the oligarchy is going to win a lot of sympathy in the City of Roses.  So, of course, we leaped to join the Occupy movement.  But we went into it half-baked.  And now, here we are."  I was on a roll.

Dave nodded.  "True," he said.  "It was almost reflexive."  (He ought to know.  He's been at enough protests, himself.)  "But now, the Occupy Portland movement has changed and grown from whatever the original instigators had in mind. It is what it is, and it's entirely natural that Occupy Portland has become a haven for the city's street citizens."

"I suppose this, then, might be the first stage of a bigger movement," I said.  "Now, there must be a second wave that builds on the support garnered thus far." 

"Yeah," he said.  "That's what needs to happen."
 
But neither of us had any idea how or by whom such a development might occur. 

Cling to solidarity, 99%.  The usurers and plutocrats will continue their insidious efforts to divide us against one another.  That's their only hope.  But, to spin an old adage only very slightly, if we hang together, they can't hang us separately.

Squatting in tents in the city park is a beginning.  The movement must now undergo some kind of evolution.  What that might be, I don't know.  The main thing, at this point, is to get people talking about it.

Oh, would that I might...

Occupy Portland - Unsustainable

The above flier circulated in the Occupy Portland camp recently. (You can see a more legible version of it here.)  The source of the flier is unknown.

Apparently, the problems I noticed several weeks ago have not been resolved.  In fact, according to this flier they have only been exacerbated by the influx of homeless or deranged people.

Having been down there a number of times, I can tell you that the vibe during the daytime is much different than that at night.  During the day, everything seems orderly and peaceful.  At night, there is a palpable sketchiness.  I'm not easily shaken, but I was definitely on edge on the occasion of my second nighttime visit to the camp.

And thinking back on my Sunday chat with some of the long-term Occupiers, I believe I may have detected uncertainty in some of their remarks, as if they are troubled by recent developments.

As the flier urgently suggests, for the movement to succeed, it must be sustainable.  And the reality is that, here in Portland (or, Little Beirut, if you will) there are too many people crowded into too small a space with too few sanitation facilities.  The flier proposes that the camp be moved to a different, more suitable site.  Where that might be, I cannot guess. 

It all adds up to some pretty big problems facing this protest movement --a movement that I believe is vitally important.

Well, after all, large scale social, economic, and political reforms aren't going to come about just because a group of disgruntled folks set up tents in city parks.  The road that we're undertaking is bound to be long and hard.  And, more than anything, the robber barons and plutocrats must never believe that we can be dissuaded and discouraged when things get messy.

The movement is facing its first crisis.  Let's see where it goes from here...

Occupy Portland - Sunday at the camp

Cacophonous message (in need of a spell-check)

On Saturday night, a splinter group moved from the main camp site at Chapman/Lownsdale Parks to occupy Jamison Square in the Pearl District.  The City would have none of it.  Police in riot gear and on horseback swept in and arrested twenty-some people.  Others left voluntarily.  There was no violence.

The Occupiers released a statement in response to the arrests, saying they "stand in solidarity with people in Oakland, Atlanta, Chicago, and other cities where aggressive police raids and 2,826 arrests have attempted to forcibly disperse peaceful assembly and political protest.  The occupation movement condemns police brutality as well as the unjust and growing inequality of wealth, resources, and political influence in the nation and world."

Portland police still on-hand

Fair words.  But no police brutality occurred at Jamison Square.  Throughout this Occupy demonstration, Portland police have conducted themselves admirably.  At least so far as I have seen.  Certainly, they haven't pulled anything like they did when Mayor Katz had them pepper-spray down citizens because they were protesting Junior Bush when his presence blighted the city back in August 2002.

Mayor Adams, it seems, has made the decision to contain the Occupiers and wait them out.  A test of resolve, then.  So be it. 

Ethan Edwards

On Sunday, coming home from the early matinee, I stopped in at the Occupy Portland camp.  I spent a little while chatting with Ethan Edwards, another fellow named Deva, and the irrepressible Raya Cooper, whom I had met before.

I asked them:  "What needs to happen in order for you to pack up your gear and go?  What needs to change?"

"We were talking about that earlier," said Ethan.  He didn't exactly shrug as he said it, but none of the three provided a clear answer.  I wonder, is there anyone associated with the movement that really could provide an answer?  I have my doubts about that.
 

Deva and the irrepressible Raya Cooper

But I don't think it matters.  As I've said before, the demonstration is a broad indictment of a thoroughly-corrupted political and economic system.  The Occupiers don't necessarily have to provide the answer.  Their function is to draw attention to the injustice so that we can all figure out the answer.

Ethan, Deva, Raya and I had a pretty good chat.  They seemed in good spirits.  I didn't think to mention it, but I'm grateful to them and to all the Occupiers.  Someone needs to take a stand. 

On my way out of camp, I went by the kitchen.  The Worn-out Shoes were laying down a bluegrass jam.  Overhead, heavy raindrops pattered on the tarp, like a chorus of low voices, murmuring assent, urging strength and solidarity.

Occupy Portland - Labor joins in

It's no surprise, I suppose, that I am on Trent Luntz' email list. I've signed so many petitions, visited so many web sites and attended so many fora that my email address (dadecariaga@hotmail.com, by the way) was bound to reach the office of the Executive Director of the Democratic Party of Oregon by any of a multitude of routes.

(Say what you want about national Democrats, including President Obama.  I'll probably agree with you.  But Oregon Democrats are a different breed altogether.  Much more fight to 'em.)

So that's how I heard about the planned march this evening. Trent sent email announcing that organized labor, as represented by the AFL-CIO of Portland, AFSCME, and other unions, would demonstrate in solidarity with the Occupy Portland movement.

Hurrah for the boisterous working class!

So, I went.

A rally in Director Park (dowtown on Yamhill) preceded the march.  As with most union events I've attended, there were many speakers and they went on at length.  I lost track of their number.  Jobs with Justice, the US Postal Service, and many (if not each) of the unions had a spokesperson on the playbill.

Vive le prolétariat

The principle demands that I heard repeated were these:  federal jobs legislation and increased taxes on corporations and top incomes.  I thought the USPS spokesman was rather eloquent as he urged people to rally to save the postal service.  (Alas, I don't recall his name.)

Statement of fact

This was a smaller demonstration than the big march that kicked off Occupy Portland.  But my inexpert estimate is that there were just over a thousand marchers.  Mostly union folks. Union support ought to lay to rest the absurd assertions by right-wing media outlets that the (now-international) demonstrations springing up everywhere are composed of mere hippies and Trustafarians.

KATU reporter speaks with a demonstrator

While at the rally, I noticed a bespectacled and sharply-hatted woman standing near me.  She was making notes on a notepad.  She saw me watching her, so I asked "Are you a reporter?"  She handed me her card:

Anne Saker

Staff Writer

The Oregonian

She asked me a few questions, and I suddenly felt bashful.  But I hope I gave her coherent answers.

Everyday folks

The march went from Director Park north for a few blocks, then turned west, then south on 4th, to go past the Occupy Portland camp and thence to Pioneer Square.  I dropped out at Madison.  That was my bus stop.  But I shot video as the marchers streamed past.  I raised my right fist in solidarity.



I have no idea where this movement is going. It is hard to be optimistic in times like these. But it is important to remember that this country has a long tradition of populist movements bringing about real change, real reform.

And more than that, it just feels good to be doing something.

Tea Party versus Occupy

Our crack national media (that's sarcasm, folks) continues to struggle to understand the #occupywallstreet movement.  It is enigma to them.  It is alien --a phenomenon resulting from something that they cannot understand.  It is driven by something other than money.  It is driven by a lack of money.  And, in this gilded age, that does not compute.

Mark my words.  Ultimately, the much-ballyhooed Tea Party movement will be regarded by history as chimera, while the Occupy Wall Street movement will endure and be regarded as a game-changer, a signature development that sparks a great transformation.

Whether the transformation will be for better or worse, of course, is still up in the air...

Watchmen, the iconic graphic novel by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons (recently translated into a very good film by Zack Snyder) provides an interesting analogous postulate.  Watchmen is a novel that explores how the world would be different if there really were extra-legal costumed vigilantes (think Batman) roaming our streets and "protecting" our society.

The novel includes a chapter in which a retired crime-fighter, Hollis Mason, recounts how the costumed hero phenomenon began and how it transformed itself.  When they first appeared, the crime-fighters enjoyed popular support and celebrity.  They were so successful at winning the sympathies of the general populace that corporate banks sponsored their own costumed hero, Dollar Bill, for publicity purposes.  As fate would have it, the unfortunate Dollar Bill was killed serving his banking masters.  While pursing robbers, Dollar Bill's cape got caught in a revolving door and he was shot dead at point-blank range.

Another corporate sucker collects his paycheck!

Figuratively, the Tea Party is facing the same fate.  While I won't deny that Tea Party folks have a lot of passion, it is the passion of the confused.  All the support and adulation they receive from Fox News and other media outlets will eventually sap their enthusiasm.  After all, how angry can one remain when it seems that everyone is on your side?  All the talking-point memos with instructions for disrupting congressional town hall meetings, all the charter buses to transport angry, ignorant people to protest sites, all the Fox News pep rallies --all of it will be for naught.  Just like poor Dollar Bill, the Tea Party "patriots" are being played for suckers by corporate bigwigs.

On the other hand, the folks at the various Occupy sites endure the censure and scorn of the corporate media and Capitol Hill boot-lickers.  There are no air-conditioned buses to convey the protesters comfortably from place to place.  There are no voices of authority urging them on.

And yet, they endure.  They endure through bad weather, through heavy-handed authority, through the fearful scorn of hollow-hearted demagogues. The occupiers are driven by something other than mere anger and corporate-funded rhetoric.  They're driven by a hunger for justice.  They're driven by outrage over the inequities of the current system, by disgust at the corrupted political system that cannot address the basic needs of the citizenry.

Occupy Portland - Continuing to evolve

"What seems to be, is, to those to whom it seems to be." --Blake

Sunday morning found me riding ^#14 downtown once again to see what I might see at the encampments in Lownsdale and Chapman Parks.  Joni came up on the playlist as I rode, striking the exact emotional chord that declared my heart at that moment. (She does that so often.)

Take off take off
Take off your stay-at-home shoes
Break off shake off
Chase off those stay-at-home blues

Stairway stairway
Down to the crowds in the street
They go their way
Looking for faces to greet
But we run on laughing with no one to meet
--Night in the City (Joni Mitchell)

When I last visited the camp (on Wednesday evening) I'd left with grave concerns about the viability of the demonstration. On Sunday morning, some of those concerns were mollified.  According to a gregarious young woman who introduced herself as "General Assembly," when the City reopened Main Street on Thursday morning, a lot of tension was released, and spirits were renewed.

Tents pitched everywhere

The camp was just waking up as I arrived (about 9:30 or 10:00).  People were emerging from their tents, bleary-eyed and somber.  The scene reminded me a lot of the Oregon Country Fair in the morning when everyone is getting set up for the day.

Community policing

The bleak October sun displayed the naked world.  In the cool morning air, neither the camp nor its denizens conjured any menace at all.  Everything was calm, but Portland's finest were on hand.  The officers patrolled around the outskirts of the camp, with their hands in their pockets, chatting amiably with each other and with the folks around them.
  

Camp mascot:  The flying tiger that eats banks for breakfast

There were some colorful and strange characters, to be sure.  But after one has been around hippies for a while, one learns that those unique persons with their loud voices and tattoos, with their wild eyes and eccentric mannerisms, are play-acting.  They crave audience.  They're harmless.  Many of them are friendly.

Jeremy and Pinkie:  colorful personalities

They were serving up coffee under the tarps in the center of the park.  Campers filed up to the makeshift counter and came away clutching mugs of java.  A general spirit of cooperation prevailed.

Dish-washing crew

In the kitchen they had a full crew washing dishes at the wash station.  I learned that they now serve three regular meals every day and two snacks.  No one is turned away.

The Food Not Bombs kitchen brings food every evening, and sympathetic web sites have set up programs whereby anyone can order pizzas for the demonstrators from local pizzerias.

In fact, while I sat on a park bench in the middle of camp, a delivery man came through with a pizza box, announcing "Pizza! Free pizza!"
 

KBOO on hand

The camp was well-wired, with an open-access wifi network. And KBOO radio was on hand, preparing to broadcast live from the scene.

At the information booth, I spoke with Raya Cooper, a responsible young woman with an open face and a sunny demeanor. 

I asked her about the sanitation issue.  Specifically, it did not seem that there were enough toilets to service all the people at the demonstration.  She acknowledged that it was a problem, but assured me that the Sanitation Committee was working to resolve it and that demonstrators had access to the restrooms in City Hall across the street.  (I'll bet that makes Mayor Adams happy!)  And when I looked around, I was pleased to see that the sidewalks were swept and clean and that people were strewing fresh straw around the grounds.

No friends to Democrats

The camp is getting a lot of support from the community.  But, then again, that might be because the camp really is the community. 

Raya held that the demonstrators are a cross-section of society, including young and old, professionals and blue-collar workers, homeless people, college students, and everything in between.  She said it is difficult to accurately estimate the numbers at the camp.  People come and go.  There are lots of sympathetic observers (like me) who come to show solidarity and check out the scene, but don't camp.  And there are some who go back and forth between their homes and jobs and the camp --rotating demonstrators, if you will.

To quote Joe Baegant, from The Ants of Gaia, "... hippie optimism dies hard."  That is why I can't make up my mind about this Occupy Portland demonstration.  I want to believe.  And, after all, if the common people can't find a peaceful way to bring about much-needed political and economic reform --well, it won't lead to anything good.

Occupy Portland - The Radical Thought Committee

The Radical Thought Committee

As I walked around the protest camp in Chapman Square on Wednesday evening, I noticed a group of people sitting in a circle, discussing something.  It was a little oasis of organization in an otherwise chaotic scene.  So I set my camera to video mode and I moseyed over to listen. 

I learned that I was witnessing a meeting of the Radical Thought Committee.  As I arrived, the floor belonged to a diminutive African-American fellow with red and tan feathers in his black felt hat and a five-day beard covering his cheeks.  He spoke passionately and expressively, gesticulating with his hands, stomping his feet, leaning forward and peering at the faces in his audience, looking for agreement.  It didn't take long to figure out that he was insane.

He spoke gibberish.  I don't think he managed a single coherent thought in the time he spoke.  There was something about "politicians" and "corruption," but that's about all I caught.  The people in the circle were glancing uncomfortably at one another.

Eventually, the chairman of the committee, a clean-cut young man in a dark blue jacket, managed to interrupt the speaker and gain control of the meeting.  He explained that the purpose of the meeting was to propose workshops for demonstrators --workshops that would educate people on the evils of capitalism and how it might be resisted.

As I mentioned, I was recording it all on my little camera and I started noticing some dirty looks being shot my way from meeting participants.  Eventually, a slight young woman with a nose ring and cropped black hair sauntered over to me and whispered in my ear "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure," I said.  I was pleased as punch, just as I'm sure most any middle-aged man would be when an attractive hippie chick picks him out of a crowd for a word in private.  I followed her the few steps to the bronze elk sculpture that stands on the traffic island between Lownsdale and Chapman Parks.

"Some of the people here have expressed a wish that they not be recorded," she said.  "Can I get you to delete your video."  Her tone had a distinctly aggressive edge to it.

I was a bit taken aback, but I wanted to cooperate.  After all, I'm sympathetic to the "Occupy" protests, so I wanted to respect the wishes of the protesters.

"Sure, I'll delete it," I said.  "Let me figure out how to do it."  I started to fumble through the complex menu system on my camera.  She continued talking.

"This is the Radical Thought Committee," she said.  "We're discussing how best to overthrow capitalism."  She waited to see if I would respond, but I did not.  I was still trying to figure out how to delete the video.  She tried again.

"So we want to overthrow capitalism and I was just wondering if you're down with that."

I wasn't sure what to say, so I continued to fumble with my camera.  "Ah, there it is!" I said.  "Here ya go."  I pushed "Delete" and showed her the display so she could confirm that I had deleted the video.  Then she saw that I had taken some photos as well.

"Delete those, too," she said.

"Excuse me?" said I.

"You didn't ask before you took those pictures," she said.

But now my hackles were up.  "This is starting to sound like censorship," I said.

Her fangs came out.  "I'm just expressing a request from some of the people here," she said.

"Sorry, sister," I replied.  "This is a public place and I'm a member of the public."

Now she was hostile.  "No one is going to tell you that you can't do it," she said.  "But it would be nice if you asked."

"Duly-noted," I said.  "The video is gone.  I'll keep the pictures."

She disappeared into the crowd and I went back to listen to the Radical Thought Committee meeting.

The meeting was well-run, I'll give them that.  The chairman held the floor and allowed everyone to express their views.  But nothing concrete came out of it.  Each speaker seemed more eager to air his or her opinions than to propose anything.  Eventually, the chairman announced that he had been informed by city officials that unless Main Street was cleared to allow traffic to pass through, the city would no longer service the two public restrooms that were serving the camp. 

At last, here was an actionable item --something that the committee might address meaningfully!  But the committee declined.  The chairman's announcement was met with blank stares.  He shrugged.  "Well, if that's all then, I move that this meeting be adjourned."

A young woman at the edge of the circle raised her hand to be recognized.  The chairman obliged.  She looked very small, standing among the crowd.  She had her arms folded across her midsection.  She wore a gray hoodie and jeans.  "I wanted to announce that there may be a need to physically remove an aggressor from the camp and so anyone who wants to help with that, please see me."

More blank stares.

"Sounds sticky!" I said.  Expressionless faces turned toward me.

Everything hung there for a moment and then the chairman spoke again.  "There's a motion on the floor to adjourn."

"Seconded," someone muttered, and the committee dispersed.

I took another stroll through the camp feeling very unsettled.  Then I cut out and walked back home.  It took a real effort for me to fight back a creeping anxiety.

Anxiety, after all, is the precursor to despair.

Occupy Portland - Anecdotes

The scene, Wednesday evening

One popular chant that never fails to be employed at political demonstrations goes like this:  A cheerleader from within the crowd calls out "This is what democracy looks like," and is answered by those surrounding him, "This is what democracy looks like."  It gets everybody fired up.  And, speaking from experience (although I don't chant myself) it is heartening, especially if the Portland rains are pouring down on you, like they were in March of 2008.

Well, folks, I'm hear to tell ya, demonstrations are what democracy looks like, alright.  Democracy is messy and complex and I'm learning a whole lot about it these days.

A couple anecdotes.  (Please note that I may be misremembering some of the names.)

Marathon woman

On Tuesday, I rode Trimet (good ol' ^#14, runs every 15 minutes) into town to see the demonstration and to bring them some plastic food containers, as told.  So excited, I was, at the thought of the common people, with our latent optimism and our righteous cause, taking to the streets to demand change.

The camp seemed to be running smoothly and spirits were generally high, even after several days of intense rain.  I walked around and took it in, feeling happy and hopeful.

While I was having a look, a woman about my age, with iron gray hair, round spectacles and an air of authority shouted out "I need volunteers to help bring in some food."

I eagerly hopped to it.  I was joined by a huge African-American man in his early 30s named "Joseph or Tequila, whichever you like" from Cinncinati, Ohio.  The top of my head reached no further than his shoulder.

We were introduced to a woman from west Portland.  She was in her mid-thirties, perhaps.  She appeared to be a suburban housewife, dressed casually in jeans and a light jacket, with the perpetually-exhausted expression of a mother of young children.  She led us to her nearby station wagon, where she had some crates of bottled water and some other food.

As we walked, she explained her reasons for contributing.  "I ran in the Portland Marathon on Sunday, and for a while we were afraid that it was going to be called off because of the protest.  And I was worried, but then we ran, and all the protesters cheered us on at the end.  And I was so grateful that I just wanted to help."  She began weeping as she spoke.  "It meant so much to me."

I was touched by her emotion, which made me embarrassed.  And being embarrassed made me sad.

Such a cynical age, we live in.

Victoria

Victoria and Curtis

Next day, I went back to see how things were going.  As I crossed the Hawthorne Bridge, I overtook an interesting procession.  Some people were headed west, hauling their belongings in shopping carts, which they'd tied together in a baggage train.  They caused quite a commotion.  The conveyance was unwieldy and heavy and there was a lot of bicycle and pedestrian traffic on the bridge.

Victoria and Curtis, headed to camp

They were Victoria and Curtis and they were on their way to the protest.  Victoria was a cheerful young woman, with a cherubic face and a mind that went in several directions at once.

"Where ya from?" I asked.

She smiled a big toothy smile.  "We're homeless," she said, proudly.  "We're from over there."  She pointed back away toward the Warehouse District.  "Babe!  Watch that!" she reached and tugged at Curtis' sleeve, pulling him to one side so a bicyclist could pass.

"But where do you call home?" I asked.

"I'm from Portland." She jabbed a finger at her chest.  She leaned forward as she walked, pulling against the weight of her burden.  She pointed at Curtis.  "He's from Portland, too."

Curtis smiled and nodded.  He had a gap between his two front teeth.

"You going to the protest?" I asked.

She nodded firmly.  "Oh, yeah," she said.  "Going there now.  Babe, did you find your hat?"  Curtis shrugged.

"They'll be set up there," I told her.  "You'll be able to grab some chow, too."  I had such faith in protester organization and determination!

"We're gonna camp out there," she said.

Our paths split when we got to the western terminus.  They took the ramp that sloped down toward McCall's Restaurant, while I kept on straight.  I never did see them at the camp.

But then again, when I got to camp, I had other things on my mind...

Occupy Portland - An ugly premonition

I took a stroll down to the Occupy Portland demonstration again this evening. What a difference a day makes! I spent about an hour wandering around the encampment and it quickly became apparent that things are going downhill fast.  The lack of identifiable leaders and organizational structure is starting to manifest itself.

The Portland police are a visible presence at the camp.  And I was glad to see them there, frankly.  There was a noticeable "sketchiness" to the entire scene.

The camp has attracted a lot of homeless deranged people.  You know?  The poor souls who hang out under the eastern terminus of the Hawthorne Bridge, or down along Burnside in Old Town. Who can blame them for infiltrating the camp and getting in line for a free meal?  No one is turned away.  The influx is overwhelming the fragile cooperative infrastructure that I saw yesterday.  And the ratio of rational, purposeful protesters to indigent homeless folks is diminishing. 

If sanitation isn't already an issue, it soon will be.  There are too many people and too few facilities.  Tents are pitched literally side by side and everything is wet from the rains. 

I'm in sympathy with the movement, believe me, but there are some big problems looming.  Putting aside all my hippie-dippie "power to the people" sentiments, I don't see how this demonstration can last very long. 

I don't know how it is with the other "Occupy" demonstrations throughout the country, but this one is in trouble. Anarchy is threatening.

If there is a solution, I don't see it.  No matter what happens, though, these demonstrations have awoken something in the national zeitgeist.  At least I hope so.

Occupy Portland - Portland's occupiers

The barricades arisen

The Occupy Portland protest is now well-established in downtown Portland at SW 3rd and Main Street. A visit to the web page earlier today alerted me to an urgent need for food storage space.  So I picked up some big plastic storage containers at Costco (oh, the irony!) and took them down to the camp.

I wanted to help and I was curious to see what I would see.

Organized and administered

The camp and the occupiers are well-organized.  Tarpologists (as they are called) have hung tarps throughout the park to hold off the worst of the rain.  (And it has been raining today!)  There is a kitchen serving donated food.  There is a medical station and an information booth.  The camp is run by various committees:  Sanitation (the self-named "shitty committee"), Information, Food, and so on.

Keeping informed, informing

There is a lot of cooperation and a lot of determination, and a good dose of hippie ingenuity.  No one hangs tarp like a hippie.  It's in the blood.

Not all the folks at the camp are hippies, though.  Not by a long shot.  There can be no categorical description of the people at the camp.  They're just Americans.  Everyday Americans.  (I did meet an elderly woman from Argentina, la quien habló conmigo de San Carlos de Barriloche.) 

Serving kitchen

Last week, as told, I attended the demonstration and march that initiated the protest.  I was hopeful, but I'm always hopeful after a march.  Then, I noticed media coverage picking up and my hope grew.

Still, I have learned over these last two decades, one protest march isn't going to change anything.  If we want change, only a sustained and organized effort will suffice.

So, I've been thinking about the Occupy Portland folks ever since the big march.  Every day, I've held my breath, hoping that their efforts would not falter.  It's hard living in a camp in the rain in the middle of a bustling city. But they're doing it.  And they can't be ignored. So I have to help. 

Let me encourage you, dear reader:  if you're at all sympathetic to this movement, this statement of outrage, this demand for reform, go to 3rd and Main and see for yourself what is down there.  And, if you can find some way to help, so much the better.

This could be history in the making. 

Power-generating bicycle

I've been attending political demonstrations ever since Bush the Elder launched the first Gulf War, and there have been some cruel defeats over the years.  But this time may be different.  Maybe.  If we pull together.  If we rally.

That's just it with humans. Broken hearts don't give up. The romantics among us go through life with the forlorn hope that there is deep wisdom in the Universe --a wisdom we cannot grasp, but that we know is just and beautiful. I'm banking on it.

They are afraid

The most stark indication that the Occupy Wall Street protests are working is the manner in which the plutocracy is reacting to them.

They are afraid, people.  They thought they had everything under control, undermining President Obama, containing any efforts at financial and political reform, crushing unions, whipping up hysteria among the Tea Party crowd.

But the protests demonstrate that their schemes aren't working.  As I watch them flail around, trying to find a way to counter this grass-roots uprising, I'm reminded of an episode of the Sopranos.  It's a situation that I'm sure every parent can understand to one degree or another.

Tony and Carmella are trying to determine how best to discipline their daughter, Meadow.  They discuss their options:  cut her off from her credit card, restrict her liberties, and so on.  The conversation ends with Tony cautioning:  "Let's not overplay our hand here, 'cuz if she finds out we're powerless, we're f*cked."

Similar conversations are no doubt unfolding in the air-conditioned board rooms above Wall Street and the elegantly-decorated conference rooms on Capitol Hill.  And, yes, in the West Wing of the White House as well.

But when the people take to the streets, and stay there, it quickly becomes apparent how powerless are the monied elites.  And see how they squeal!

"If you read the newspapers today, I, for one, am increasingly concerned about the growing mobs occupying Wall Street and the other cities across the country. And believe it or not, some in this town, have actually condoned the pitting of Americans against Americans. But you sent us here to fight for you and all Americans." --House Majority Leader Eric Cantor  (How's that for bald-faced hypocrisy?)

We have had a strain of hostility to free enterprise and frankly, a strain of hostility to classic America starting in our academic institutions and spreading across this country and I regard the Wall Street protesters as a natural outcome of a bad education system teaching them really dumb ideas.  --Newt Gingrich ('nuff said)

We have to be careful not to allow this to get any legitimacy.  I’m taking this seriously in that I’m old enough to remember what happened in the 1960s when the left-wing took to the streets and somehow the media glorified them and it ended up shaping policy. We can’t allow that to happen.  --Representative Peter King, Islamophobe

Tony Soprano couldn't have said it any better.