In Loving Memory Of Solomon - The Snake Man Of Venice

The awful and hard to believe news that our friend Solomon (born Willie Lee Turner) had died on August 17th, 2019 reached me in Minnesota, where I've been helping to take care of my Mom all summer. If possible, it instantly made me miss Venice even more than I have been. I quickly called Solomon's longtime girlfriend, Greta Cobar, to find out that yes, this awful news was true. She didn't have any details yet, but it was - shockingly - true. Shockingly because Solomon was a man who really seemed invincible.

Solomon spoke truth to power up there on his ladder, holding his snakes for all the passersby on the Boardwalk, but it was never really about the snakes to me. It was about using your voice to engage with others and stimulate important conversation. This got him into trouble with the cops all the time, but Solomon didn't really seem to care all that much. Every time I saw him, I felt better afterward. His "Hey, CJ, how are you doin'?" was always asked with true interest, straight in my eyes. He was something else, the likes of which we'll never see again in Venice ... and another iconic member of our community is gone. I SO deeply regret that I never got to do my own story on Solomon - a solemn reminder that you just never know how long we'll have people and places, and the best time for enjoying them is NOW.

There was a tear-jerking memorial held on Sunday at Beyond Baroque (that I watched on Facebook Live - thanks, Logan Mote!) that I felt SO sad not to be at with everyone sharing their Solomon memories. There is also a special issue of the Free Venice Beachhead out now around Venice, and it includes the beautiful article below written by Greta for her Solomon.

Solomon, my friend ... Venice will never ever forget you. Rest easy, my Brother.


King Solomon, the Venice Snake Man, quickly departed from this world on Saturday, August 17. His passing brought shock and sorrow to so very many in Venice and beyond. On the morning of August 17 Solomon played basketball in Venice, and then performed the Snake Show at his usual spot, on Ocean Front Walk and Windward. After that he went to Burton Chace Park for the Leela James concert. Before the concert started he collapsed out of the blue, the paramedics were called, and he was transported to UCLA Medical Center in the Marina, where he was pronounced dead on arrival at 6:47pm. The results of the autopsy are deferred for three months because of down-town testing back-log, and an official cause of death has not been released.  


The Venice plaza between the flagpoles will never be the same without the Snake Show that he performed there for the past eighteen years. The tourists took pictures, and those millions of pictures are now all over the world and on the internet. All locals knew him, and most faces would sketch a smile at the sight of him. After a quick verbal ex-change, the passer-by would leave feeling uplifted by Solomon’s trademark words of encouragement and the compliments that he was so generous with. He was born on March 29, 1961, on Hope Street, in downtown Los Angeles, and his real name was Willie Lee Turner. His parents had come from Oklahoma, and his ancestry was African-American, Native American and French Creole. The memorable parts of his childhood were the times he rode his bicycle (on some occasions, a horse!) from Watts, where he grew up, to the bike trail in Manhattan, Hermosa and King Harbor. Back then he was one of the very few Black kids to ride in that area, and the white kids would try to harass him. He and his parents also spent time around bonfires on the sand of Santa Monica beach. Two tragic events happened to him while he was in his 20s, which made him question the righteousness of this world and whether he wanted to be part of it in a traditional sense. The first one was the death of his mother, Arnita Turner, when she was in her early 40s, which he blamed on the pills that the doctors were giving her for high blood pressure. It was common for experimental drugs to be tested on Black people without their knowledge. The second was his first daughter’s, whom he named after his mother, contamination with meningitis in the hospital when she was an infant, which made her severely mentally and physically disabled. He blamed that on the hospital using dirty needles. 

He tried working regular jobs, but had a hard time being controlled by the system. He even en-rolled in the Coast Guard, from which he got an honorary discharge because he didn’t want them to pull out his wisdom teeth. That was a wise decision! Venice didn’t come onto his radar until the late1980s. And after that he was never the same, much like Venice will never be the same without him. He started calling himself Solomon and be-came The King, King Solomon. Back in those days Venice allowed and encouraged people to break out of the mold and express their authentic selves, and he truly was The King. 

At first he sold T-shirts with socially conscious messages on the Boardwalk, such as Love Sees No Color. In the 1990s he spent years being a full-time dad for his baby daughter Jasmine, as well as his oldest son, David. At this time he also spent more time concentrating on making art and music, two hobbies that he enjoyed and practiced throughout his life. He took photographs and created beautiful collages with his own photographs, cut-outs from newspapers and magazines, and found objects. His artwork carried strong political/social messages of justice, freedom and equality. Creating music was a constant part of his life, and he loved singing and playing the flute, guitar, drums, ukulele, banjo and any other instrument he could get his hands on. In 2001 he was jogging along the ocean in Venice, and in alignment with the flagpoles at the end of Windward, on the wet sand, he found a rubber snake that had washed ashore. He picked it up, and was playing with it on Ocean Front Walk, by the flagpoles. A Haitian historian visiting Venice walked by and said: “Hey, I have a snake just like that, I got it at a garage sale.” Solomon thought, “Ya, right.” A few days later the guy came back and gave him the second snake. They both had “Made in China 1989” written on them. He started playing with both snakes, with his eyes closed, and when he opened his eyes, there were a bunch of people watching him, mesmerized by his presence. And that is when the idea of doing the Snake Show came to him. 

Betty White, of the famous Elton and Betty White Show that was taking place on the Boardwalk at that time, told him: “Take off your clothes, you’ll make more dough!”. He found a wooden ladder abandoned on Venice and Lincoln, and started performing between the flagpoles, on Windward and Ocean Front Walk, in alignment with where the snakes came to him. And that is the story of how the famous Snake Show got started. His mastery of making the snakes look real (they weren’t!) combined with his incredible balancing and yogi poses on the ladder, his physical beauty, his kind and wise words, made the show a hit. It was original, different, out of the blue, unexpected and unique. It was what Venice was all about, what people came to Venice for. The sight of systemic police injustice trans-formed Solomon’s calm, composed and thoughtful demeanor into outrage, and he was not afraid to speak out against it. That resulted in constant police harassment and numerous arrests on bogus charges. A Black man speaking truth to power in the most crowded part of Venice did not fit in with the restrictions of the system that we live under. If his family and friends would not have intervened with private attorneys and tens of thousands in bail money, the cops’ efforts to keep him locked up would have been successful. This is the real story of being a Black non-conformist man in America. 

When the lottery system of allocating freshly painted boxed spots on the Boardwalk to the performers and artists was instituted in 2005, he was one of a few, if not the only one, who refused to be part of it. Through all his struggles, Solomon re-fused to compromise his conviction that freedom of speech is a right, not a lottery prize. In 2015, when the cops succeeded in banning him from the Boardwalk for a year as a plea deal on a totally bogus charge, he moved to Santa Monica and started performing there, at the top of the pier. In January of this year he came back to Venice and continued doing his show in the original spot, to the delight of locals and tourists alike. Aside from his show and with his clothes on, he was a big part of the Venice community, ever-present at rallies, community meetings, gatherings, local hang-out spots and the basketball courts. He had more friends than anyone else I know. People loved his perseverance, strength, beauty and optimism. He often said that he lived by miracles, and encouraged the rest of us to believe in miracles as well.

I personally met Solomon on my first day after moving to Venice in October of 2004. Dr. John introduced me to him at a table outside of Cafe Collage, which at the time was the local hang-out spot. We started dating just a few weeks later, and continued, on and off, until now. The time I spent with him was by far the highlight of my life so far, and he inspired me to be the person that I am today. From riding bikes to decorating bikes, to buying and restoring my own VW bus, to my local activism and the work I did for the Beachhead, to making my own collages and paintings, to the way I carry my-self and deal with others, my philosophy of life and my expanded horizons, all that and more has his mark on it. He’s had the biggest influence on my life, was my best friend, my passion, my source of strength and happiness. 

On August 17 I drove to Malibu and parked in a ranch, on the grass, under a big tree. I was sup-posed to get out and listen to live music, but I was overwhelmed by sorrow and spent hours in the car sobbing. I longed to be connected with him and repeatedly tried calling, but his phone was off. A deep, unprecedented and overwhelming need to hold his hand took over me. The urge was so strong that I held my two hands together and pretended that one of them was his. I held them really tight for quite a while, while tears were uncontrollably streaming down my face. It was at this exact time that he was going through his transition into the next form of energy. I didn’t know it at that time. The following day I scolded myself for being so needy, but when I found out about his passing I realized that he needed me to hold his hand during his transition just as much as I did, and I am honored to have been connected with him like that. Venice lost one of its greatests, and it will never be the same without him. We can find solace in our fortune to have known him, to have enjoyed his presence, to have been blessed by him. He truly was larger than life. 

Solomon is survived by his five children Arnita Turner, David Turner, Joshua Turner, Elisha Turner, and Jasmine Turner; his step-daughter Crystal Spradley; his sister Cassie Turner; his former long-term partner Jill Horowitz-Groeschel, Jasmines’s mother; and Eva Marie Svensson, Joshua’s and El-isha’s mother. A memorial for Solomon will be held on Sun-day, September 1, 5-8pm, at Beyond Baroque, 681 Venice Blvd. May he rest in power, love and peace. May he know that he was deeply loved and is now just as deeply missed.  
- By Greta Cobar

R.E.S.P.E.C.T. - Part Two

There was a very special gathering of Venice ladies last night at La Cabaña for International Women's Day, that was touching, inspiring, and an awful lot of fun. Organized by longtime Venice advocate for everyone, Yolanda Miranda (in town visiting from Utah, where she said she is like "A palm tree in Siberia."), I felt honored to be there in the presence of such strong and talented women.

                                                           *Poster created by Greta Cobar

Former Free Venice Beachhead ringleader, Jim Smith, was there to present us all (nearly all Beachhead Alumni) with roses on behalf of the men of Venice. Pitchers of margaritas were already flowing by the time I got there, and the ladies were in the mood to celebrate. We had the back patio pretty much taken over, and other patrons were on notice that it might get loud. And it did. Miranda read Ain't I A Woman by Sojourner Truth to us, and it gave goosebumps ... Just click on the link and read it for yourself. 

I'll wait. (I'd post it here but something is messing up with formatting today. Like below. Sorry.)

Wow.  Then Greta Cobar recited And Still I Rise, by Maya Angelou, which is equally great. Cobar's mother, Natasha, was there as well, and it's always great to see where your friends get their radness from.

Artist and poet, Hillary Kaye, created a beautiful poster, and she and Miranda gifted us all with bookmarks made from the same art as the poster that featured legendary women. I love it. Thank you!  There was a purple bag (the color for International Women's Day, I was told) for each of us, containing a sachet that I'm smelling and loving now, and a card featuring Frida Kahlo. I love that I.W.D. is becoming an actual celebration - complete with gifts! 

Suzy Williams sang such a beautiful rendition of Moon Over Venice that a woman approached me in the bathroom and asked who it was that had such a wonderful voice. That's our Venice Songbird for you.  Beautiful speeches were made, and all were honored. Alice Stek was there - she delivers and saves babies born with AIDS every day. Ivonne Guzman was there - she fights for housing and the homeless every day.

                                                                                 *Photo by Jim Smith
A woman was there who had lost her husband to cancer only a month ago, and you could see her regain strength just being there amid women that understood, and enveloped her with love. It truly was a special feeling ... of what it means to belong to the tribe of Women - women who can -and DO - do anything. The mariachi fellows honored us with their beautiful serenades, and the party was on.

There was even a special cake for the occasion, and it too was fantastic. I hope ladies everywhere felt special yesterday, and that the current groundswell of support for each other only continues to build ... into a tsunami of change and progress that cannot be challenged. 

Viva Las Mujeres! 

Gracias, Yolanda & every woman there. You are forces of nature, All. 

Defend Venice - Happy 110th!

As we prepare to celebrate our Independence as a country all long weekend long, let's not forget that it is also the 110th birthday of our Venice on July 4th. This is a great time to spend enjoying all the things that make Abbot Kinney's dream town such a wonderful place to live and visit. Go to the beach, hit the skatepark, stroll the canals, surf the Breakwater, cruise the Boardwalk, check out the murals, visit the galleries, support your local businesses ... just appreciate the bejesus out of it. Love it. Because then it will really make you want to defend it.

It's not the first time in its history that Venice has had to face down corporate and foreign money, or the rapid encroachment of chains and those days' hipsters. It's always been a challenge, but a challenge that has always been met with defiance and passion.

The photo above is from the archives of The Free Venice Beachhead. Bulldozers were coming to tear down another beloved house and the tree in front of it, and that dude was not having it. Nor should we.

Defend your Venice. Celebrate your Venice. Wish it at least another 110 years of being a home for all of us who don't want to be like everyone and everywhere else. Above all, have FUN while you're doing it!

Happy 110th Birthday, Venice! We sure do love you.

*I believe Tshirts and Posters of this image are still available at FreeVenice.org

The 2013 Abbot Kinney Street Festival!

It was perhaps the most perfect day for our Abbot Kinney Street Festival that has ever happened. Simply gorgeous ... bright blue skies, warm sunshine and a breeze right when you needed it all combined to welcome the masses to Venice for our annual jamboree. It was a complete blast. As usual.

I spent a good chunk of the day at the Free Venice Beachhead booth, meeting neighbors and discussing the things that concern, bug, elate, and mean something to our community. The big talk was about the proposed hotel on Abbot Kinney - that absolutely no one seems to want. Including me. I kind of got a kick out of the fact that as I use my initials in the paper, some readers have assumed I'm a guy. I'm a lady, and it was nice to meet so many kind readers. I always say the AK Fest is like Venice Thanksgiving, in that you see so many faces that you haven't seen since the previous year's throw-down. I love it.

The Jesus people had a strong presence this year, walking up and down the Boulevard with big signs and loudspeakers telling us all what sinners we are. True enough, but obnoxious, and probably not that effective as everyone seemed to be simply ignoring them.

I love the moment when you hear drums approaching in the distance, and soon enough the samba school line dances past and invigorates everyone clapping alongside them. It's a great tradition, and full of the fun spirit of the day.

Beyond Baroque had a stage where folks could get up and read one of their poems, even if nobody was listening. It's so great that we have an organization devoted to poetry, and that we have so many talented people willing to share their most personal work, as the microphone was never unattended every time I walked by.

There was a lot of head-wear for sale at booths this year, flower crowns, hats and the like. Jewelry was another big presence this year, and art, t-shirts and stuff for the kids were the other big draws. Long lines for food, and the rumor that it cost $25 just to get a wristband to get into The Brig's beer garden, that did not include any beers. Um ... Yeah, no thanks. I can find my own, and better party.

Which we did at Aust, the new Australian clothing store tucked in behind the beautiful Fiore flower shop. As once again this year it seemed that the downtown p.r. people that have been hired to handle the AK Fest forgot that Venice people like to listen to Venice bands at our own Festival. This did not appear to be be possible on any of the official stages, (except for the awesome Superbroke Orchestra that I heard I missed, dangit!) so Aust had a bunch of locals play right there at the store. 

Aussies and North Americans alike crammed in to hear Aussie Matt Ellis play all new songs solo acoustic.

Lacey Cowden played her stellar songs of love and redemption to a rapt audience.

J.R. Reyne rocked the place, as did Clayton Joseph Scott, while the party out back behind the store grew and grew as more neighbors heard about friends playing at the Festival.

After a bit, it seemed like it was all that was going on in town, even as the jam-packed street continued to flow with people out front until after the sun set.

The Police did their end of Festival sweep, and the tent poles soon began clanking down. It's pretty impressive how quickly it all just disappears, including the people that split off to after-parties or to catch the Breaking Bad finale.

Another beautiful day in Venice, on the books, with pictures, laughs and memories enough to last us until next year. Cheers to all who helped put on another wonderful Street Festival!

*Photo of me by Emma Leslie

Spring Fling At The Beach

Last Saturday was the Venice Spring Fling and it was the perfect day to be at the beach. In fact, I had my first ocean swim of the season, though it was as quick one as the water still has a ways to go before it's actually warm. But it was great.

The Spring Fling was in full swing when I got there, with tourists and locals alike all taking in the bright sunshine, perfect breeze, food, music, hula hooping, art booths ... the kind of day that really shows off Venice at its best and most authentic.

Everyone was walking and biking or skating, catching up with old friends and making new ones. The Boardwalk was packed, and everyone seemed to be smiling and happy to be here.

I hung out at the Free Venice Beachhead booth for a while, and got to talk to lots of our good readers. It's always a pleasure to hear what people are interested in, mad at, happy about, and what stories they think need to happen in our local paper, so it's good when there are these events that allow the people behind the stories to connect.

A big deal in Venice right now is the battle over OPDs (Overnight parking permits) that pretty much no one I know wants. Venice is supposed to be FREE and open to everyone. Overnight parking passes that you have to pay for are for other, more uptight towns, not us. David Busch was there with petitions to sign against the OPD ordinance, and spreading his demand for MORE LOVE! Yes, please.

Meet Me At The Pub and The Untouchables kept the crowd moving when I was there ... moving and moshing. Live music at the beach, with the blue ocean and skies as the backdrop, is the best.

This was one of those days - again - that you really can't ask for more from. It's all there. It's all good.

Abbot Kinney Street Festival 2012!

We always look so forward to the Abbot Kinney Festival every year, and this year could not have been a more perfect day for it. Gone was the oppressive heat at the beach that some maniacs have been complaining about (Never me), and a gentle breeze blew through the sunshine to create the most gorgeous possible day for all of Venice (and friends) to come together.

Once again, the entire town seemed to be in a great mood, and once again it reminded me of a homecoming weekend, or Thanksgiving, when you see all the old, familiar faces that people get too caught up in their own lives to see every day. I actually (once again) didn't get to look at too many booths or things, as every two feet you would have another friendly encounter. I love that.

I spent a good chunk of the afternoon kicking it at the Free Venice Beachhead booth, where I got to meet many of our town's readers, hear their concerns, ideas, support and funny stories. One extra OG man told me how he'd lived in Venice all his life, and it "used to be FUN here ... now the Pigs won't let anyone have any fun. It's all Yuppies and money now". Though I did see a person with a real pig as a pet, I believe this guy was talking about the cops. They were pretty cool on this day, but they kind of need to be now, when many in our community are pretty down on them after the whole Ronald Weekley thing. One young lady asked "How can I donate to The Beachhead or become a Sustainer?" It made me so happy that someone in the teen demographic understands and appreciates the need and the work that goes into a FREE press. And that it's a very important method for preserving OUR Venice, the way that man remembered it. Preserving the FUN, instead of being all about the money and hipster b.s. I headed back out into the mix, encouraged.

But this was a day for celebration, and everyone looked to be doing a great job at that. One great tip for ladies on Abbot Kinney Festival day is that the line for the ladies restroom is always the shortest at The Roosterfish. The 'Fish was completely packed all day. Gay, straight, every single genre of person having a total ball getting sauced in the daytime on the patio, where great looking hamburgers were being grilled up right in the middle of it all. So fun.

The kids were having a whole bunch of fun at the kid area at Westminster School, where they could do a climbing wall, ride a little Ferris Wheel, and generally go nuts on all the sugar they were hopped up on.

People out buying things too, from jewelry, clothes and art to hot sauce, fairy wings and feather headdresses. You could also register to vote to show your appreciation for the improved economy we were witnessing.

You could eat anything you wanted, and there were so many delicious looking food booths that it made it difficult to decide (we went with Outdoor Grill and gourmet ice cream sandwiches - yum).

It has irked me in recent years that the music stages did not represent our Venice musicians, hardly, if at all, which seems lame considering we all know GREAT musicians in Venice. Same deal this time around, and I really only made a point to catch The Living Things, who fired up the people hanging out at The Brig and the Palms stage.

With all to see and do at the Abbot Kinney Festival, the very best thing remains the people. The people watching. Seeing old friends and making new ones. Seeing that some people walk goats around as pets, and some people don't really wear clothes. Some people wear really cool clothes. Some people get through the crowd on stilts. But everyone has a good time, and is happy to be here in our beloved Venice.

Back home later, I could hear the clanging of the poles on the ground from the booths being dismantled, another successful year of the fair coming to an end. I heard a drunken crew rolling down my street and one of the girls shrieking, "This was the best Festival EVER!!!" She probably hadn't been to ones here in years past, but compared to others in the world, she was spot on. And the best part about the whole day every year is really that it's one big benefit for our desperately needed Venice Family Clinic. Good begets good.

We love you, Venice! Thanks, as ever, for the FUN!

Backstage at The Beachhead!

I dug the Free Venice Beachhead from the day I moved here. An entirely volunteer operation, it has been in existence since 1968, celebrating the auspicious 43rd Birthday this December! Every community needs its newspaper, but a community like Venice especially does. People have come here from all over the world to seek and explore what the left-est edge of the country has going on, and the Beachhead has been documenting it all for decades.




I got involved myself when I would occasionally submit articles about things I thought were cool in the neighborhood (You can too! We love to hear from EVERYONE, and Venetians tend to have a lot to say. Don't be shy, that's silly) ... or uncool as the time I had my dear bike, Delores, stolen. I reacted by writing a story, basically a livid Bike Amber Alert, and the Beachhead Collective was nice enough to print it on the front page. Well, a month later I got her back, and wrote another - triumphant - story to share the unlikely news. That was the beginning of me taking a more active part in the paper, as Collective member, as Collective member, Greta, had been reading my blog about me and Venice (Hi), and extended an invitation for me to come to the Beachhead meetings, and see if I wanted to join the Collective. So I did.

Meetings are held each Monday evening at the "Beachhead House" in the heart of Venice. You duck through some thick foliage and enter the house to be met with shouts of welcome from the long wood table that serves as the Bridge on the Mother Ship of Beachhead operations. Protest posters from past and present, and original works by Venice artist friends adorn the walls, as, of course, does the visage of Che Guevara. A beautifully colorful Murano glass chandelier hangs above it all, as sort of a reminder of the original Venice.

It doesn't take long before someone usually opens up the first bottle of Charles Shaw, which helps to calm the nerves when talking about local and worldwide events that rile us up. We stick impressively close to the agenda each week, considering we are all vocal and tangent-prone contributors, but this paper has to get out! It takes a lot of work - by people that also have to actually work and maintain busy lives. And these people ... what a bunch. Each of us is so different from each other, but somehow it all works as a whole, and a mutual respect is maintained (save for the pretty uncommon outbursts of healthy disagreement) to make that so.

Jim is the true keeper of the Beachhead flame, having been involved with the paper for a good chunk of its lifetime. He is a deep and creative poet, and is also real good at cracking the whip on the gang to keep things moving along. Karl is the Professor of the bunch (of Chemistry), so he's our go-to source for all things scientific. He also writes great poems, and is great at reciting the poem submissions that come in in his actorly fashion. Mary is the poet on the Collective that makes me well up almost every time she submits, so touching and wise are her works. She's also the one that always catches my raised eyebrow or pointed glance, and exactly gets what I mean without even talking. A great lady.

Don is the most senior member of the Collective, and also the biggest flirt. He is out there, active and involved, every day of the week. He is never afraid to exactly speak his mind, and share his vast knowledge about pretty much all things. He is a true inspiration as to how to be of service and lead a full life. And he can make you blush. As can Greta. She is the Romanian spitfire of the group, and cracks me up every week. She is the supplier of the most double-entendres I've ever heard, and is as smart as she is funny (she is a school teacher during the day). I look forward each week to seeing what she'll wear, or what she might cook, as she'll often display her culinary skills for us, on top of her writing pointed and provoking articles for the paper. {She would laugh and shout, "ON TOP!" here}.

Roger is the grammatical stickler of the bunch, and we're lucky to have him, as even under his microscope, it's still not hard for typos and stuff to sneak by when proofing nights go late. Roger is a smart one, and a good debater too, as he's another one not afraid to speak his mind. No one is really, and that makes for super interesting discussions, and we hope, a better paper each month. There are new members, Ron and Annie, who are proving to be fine contributors, and both jumped right in with offers to get things done. There are more phantom members, like Alice, who can rarely attend meetings, but handles the finances of the paper, which is always a struggle (we'll get to that). Lydia, a very involved activist, sometimes makes an appearance, and always has great points to make. Krista is another lovely poet, who we don't see as much of these days, but are always happy when we do. Yolanda (and her sweet little dog, Joey) and Peggy are honorary members who inspire as some of the strongest, most activist women I've ever met - and also excel as great cooks and kombucha makers. It's always a treat when Suzy shows up, and even better when she pens one of her enthusiastic reviews.

These characters all sit around the big table and discuss distribution, who called which expired sustainer, who hit up who for ads, what events are coming up, what timely topics need to be addressed, how many more have died at war or been arrested for Occupying, current events, etc. Then we all take turns reading story, poem, letter and calendar event submissions. It's a democratic vote for each of them that winds up in the paper, and if only those walls could talk, they'd have volumes of thoughtful, interesting, important and funny things to say. I look forward to these meetings each week, as I always emerge a little more well-informed, and cheered that a diverse people really can come together and create something positive together. And that's a good lesson to apply to everything in life, right?

I try to make my contribution each month be a reminder of why we all want to be in Venice. I like to focus on the GOOD stuff - the art, the music, the events, the people and businesses that make this an intriguing - no, MAGICAL place to live. The more we know each other better, the better we'll be to each other, is my way of thinking. The more you know someone's story, the better you can identify with or learn from them. Which brings us to the point of a community paper ... knowing the stories of a time and place in history.

As I mentioned before, it's hard work, all done for free, with free minds and spirit and speech. (And you get it for free). We don't just tell the stories, we deliver the stories to you. We hustle to get ads and sustainers to keep the paper afloat - everyone's least favorite part of the deal. No one likes to ask for money, especially creative, activist type people. I know that a lot more people enjoy the paper than currently support the paper, and I think that could be improved upon. Simply based on the number of times I'm stopped and talked to about it in a normal Venice day is telling of The Beachhead's place in the hearts of locals.

So please consider being more active in your appreciation for a truly rare and original, Beat-originated and still inspired, cool LOCAL hard copy newspaper. Send us YOUR stories, thrilled or outraged. Become a sustainer (it's easy, you can just Pay-Pal it right up at www.freevenice.org!). Place an ad for your business. Announce your wedding or baby or graduation or party! Come to an event we sponsor. Volunteer to help lug papers. Do something awesome that we can write about!

Above all, THANK YOU! Thank you, Venice, for being so great to live in and write about. Thank you for supporting a free press, and a free spirit. For inspiring every day, and for the sense of FUN and community we all love, and love to document.

Happy 43rd Birthday, Beachhead! It's a real honor to celebrate both the history and the NOW with you! CHEERS (with something a little better than Chuck S. for the occasion!)!!!

The 2011 Abbot Kinney Festival!

This year's Abbot Kinney Festival started out extra gloomy and misty, one of those lazy Sundays where it's hard to get out of bed. That is, until the bikes started noisily swooping by outside, bright and early, on Venice Boulevard for a Triathalon, that some planners somewhere thought would be a good idea to hold the same day as the Abbot Kinney Festival. Anyway, it got us up.


After some stiff coffee to get us ready and jazzed for the day's festivities, it was off to Abbot Kinney. No one in Venice lets a little grey dampen the spirits for our Festival, so the place was already packed by 11 a.m. The booths (amazing jewelry, as ever. Lots of feather stuff too. And always the wings for kids - and some adults) seemed to be doing a brisk business - and they mostly seemed to be actually hand-made, artisan type stuff this year, a vast improvement over some of the junk stands of years past - as I made my way past them all to take my shift at The Free Venice Beachhead booth.


It's always nice to hang out in one spot for a bit at the Festival, to really watch the people and take it all in. It's nice to hear from readers of our only truly local paper, about their concerns, ideas, stories, and drinking in the afternoon commentaries. A few neighbors even offered cocktail delivery services right to the booth ... but then forgot to return with them, sigh. We handed out copies of the latest issue and had fresh t-shirts for sale, with my long asked for design of "DEFEND VENICE" graphic with a guy in a tree with his fist raised. Love it. You should get one. Oh, and you can by contacting the paper at www.freevenice.org. There were also some surveys to fill out that proved to be interesting, with telling results (about topics ranging from where you get your coffee to who you're gonna vote for next year) also in the paper or online.

I served my booth time and then it was off to explore with my gang. I've said it before, but the Abbot Kinney Festival is like Thanksgiving for the whole town of Venice - you see people you may not have seen all year, and it's a big reunion in the street. Plus tens of thousands Thanksgiving orphan tourists that come to hope to see something outrageous, and eat food. And drink beer in the sunshine, that I am happy to report broke through brightly right about midday.

(Pictured - Mia Doi Todd. Silver Lake, I believe)

One strange and mystifying thing about this year's Festival was that not ONE of my close friends was playing music at ANY of the stages. THAT is outrageous. It was slim last year, but as far as I could tell this year, there did not seem to be any local VENICE musical acts playing for their friends and neighbors. None. Whomever is in charge of music booking needs to really take that into account in the future because it was the overwhelming and resounding complaint coming from every person I bumped into that day, that WHERE were our local musicians at our local Festival?! I'd say I was really mad about it, but it's hard to be actually mad about anything when everyone's having a good time seeing everyone you like where you live. But still. May I please help book the stages next year? Thanks.


The Abbot Kinney Festival is one of the best people watching events of the planet, and from one end to the other it's an entire smorgasbord of people and stuff to gape at.


I love it when the Samba School splits the crowd to dance and bang drums among the people walking the street, and everyone stands back to watch and smile and FEEL the spirit of community and fun that pervades that special moment every year.


People were hanging out of the windows above Abbot's Habit to watch, the Firemen of Station 63 were clapping along (and no porn actresses were spotted hanging from the truck this day, I'm happy to report to knowers of recent Venice lore), tiny kids were showing off their capoeira skills, and the whole crowd was supremely into it.


After doing some laps of the street (and having no bands we were absolutely required to see due to friendship or support of our local artists), we went up to our friend's balcony that overlooks the entire hubbub of the Brig beer garden. Again, the greatest people watching ever.


This year there were dueling dancers outside the fence, a big Red Devil carrying a sign ("The Devil Repents!") and a cowboy in short shorts that was FEELING it.


And feeling it. For song after song (from the really good reggae d.j. spinning in the Brig lot). After song. We admired his stamina. And the way more and more (drinking) strangers would step in to dance with him. Good good times.


Right around 6 p.m. the fog started to return, the autumn light began its getting darker earlier thing, and that annual mass clearing of the people began at the Venice Boulevard end of Abbot Kinney, heading down toward Main Street. It's amazing to see how quickly it all evaporates, with the whoosh of street cleaners rolling by, the clanking of tent poles falling down, and slurry speech of passersby yelling to each other getting fainter and fainter by the minute. Soon enough it's all over again for the year, and everyone winds up collapsing at someone's nearby pad, re-hashing the day's events and looking ahead to all the good stuff that will go down between now and the re-telling of it to the friends you'll see at next year's jamboree.


Let's make it good!