Shoe Salesman Turned Felon
by T.L. Kelly

Published in 'Exquisite Corpse: A Monthly Book of Ideas', Vol. 8 Nos. 5- 9, May- Sept. 1990  

We met at house outside of Scapoose the night before, actually about 3 a.m., and I was still in my double-breasted suit. I work in a major department store in Portland, in shoes. I'm a shoe salesman. That's why I was wearing a double-breasted suit. I guess I'm a maintstreamer first, a yuppie, I guess, and an Earth First! person second. The house where we met is in sort of a commune situation. I don't know if the people there still call it that, though. We talked about how we would climb the rig, get up the ladders. We had already talked to the Filipino sailors the night before, at the port, about our plans. The sailors were all partying, and said they would probably be crashed out when we "hit." We had gone to a bar in Portland to talk some more about it. We found out that there was a meeting of the Oregon State Lawmaker's Association that night in Kelso (near the port). The topic of the meeting was "dealing with activists." We talked about that, sort of ironic that we might be their first "activist situation" after their big meeting! So we went home got some sleep. On the way home, I stopped at a store and picked up some Snickers bars and Butterfingers to eat after I got up on the rig. I figured it might be cold up there.

I didn't sleep very well. Wasn't much time to sleep before we met in Scapoose at about 3 a.m. It's not a commune, really, anymore. You probably should just write "house." We made sure we each had banners (protesting log export), then we drove to Rainier (across the Columbia River from Port Longview). The closer we got to Rainier, the foggier it got, we figured Earth was on our side. We stopped at a city park and a cop pulled up. We got a little nervous so we decided to put all the climbers into one car to go over the bridge. When we got to the docks, the fog had lifted just enough for us to see where we were going--like Earth was really parting the way! We drove past an unmanned guard shack, and headed for the first ship which we had planned to climb, but there was someone on deck, smoking a cigarette. So we went to the second ship. We are basically nonviolent. If there's someone there, we don't go. Plus, the cops could have busted us before the media ever showed up. Busted us in the dark. The second ship was clear. We wore hard hats and gear to look as normal as possible. We walked to the ship and crossed the gangplank, I threw my backpack over my shoulder and started up a ladder. Went up about 60 feet above the deck, thinking "get up here before somebody hears me." But Brian dropped his hard hat halfway up the other ladder, and a bunch of stuff from Jim's backpack fell out on the deck, and no one came out. Probably crashed out from partying, like the Filipino said.

At one point when I got off the ladder and moved to the top of the crane, I felt exposed. Felt like being careful. But not scared. I looked around and made sure all the others were up, and then I relaxed. It was almost 6 a.m. now. We usually would lock up then, but I took time to unroll my banner flat, lay it across the boom and hook it up. I laid out my candy bars. Then I sat there and waited till about 7:30 a.m. Some sailors came out and figured us out, and then I wrapped the chains around my neck and the crane and locked up. The Filipino crawled up the ladder and came face to face with Brian, asked what he was doing there. Brian said "I'm protesting log export." The sailor said "But I need to get in there (to the crane deck)." Brian said no. So the sailor asks Brian if he wanted a cigarette, very friendly. We didn't feel threatened by the crew. They walked around and took pictures of us, said it was for their families, you know, like souvenirs. They smiled a lot, joked around with each other.

The law showed up about 8:30 a.m. They had been working on a homicide, they said, all morning--a little kid had crawled into a bean bag chair and suffocated. They walked around and pointed at us, took pictures. Then the sheriff showed up, and then about 15 cops showed up behind him. The sheriff assigned groups of cops to each boom we were chained to. One of each group climbed up the ladders to talk to us. Officer Eigler talked to me. He said "well, you made your point, it's time to come down." I said I didn't know if we'd made it yet, and that we wanted the logs stopped from being loaded today. He asked me how long I would be up there, and he tried to negotiate noon. I said no, not noon. Then he tries "suppose we get your buddy down by noon?" I said no. Then he climbed down, and climbed back up and said we would be charged with felony sabotage. He said he should be working on the bean bag death. I told him to go work on it, that I could stay up there until he was finished.

Then they started bringing out the bolt cutters. I told Officer Eigler that the chains were designed to repel bolt cutters. He asked me if I minded if he tried anyway. He was kind of nervous, trying to avoid hitting my neck. Ten minutes later, the Filipino ship captain brought out another bolt cutter, a big one, and tried to explain to the cops how to use it, a bit hard to do given the language barrier. But they got it around the lock on my neck and it wouldn't work. So they brought out a hack saw. They had already frisked me for the key. They didn't find it, but before he put the hack saw to my neck, I told him I had the key. I unlocked myself. I had the key in my boot. They didn't frisk my boots. By then two TV stations and three newspapers had shown up, and an Earth First! video guy had taped the whole thing. I told Officer Eigler I would come down on my own. He said "I totally agree with your statement, but this is not the way to do it, even though I admire your results."

They took us to jail in the paddy wagon. All four of us. We were handcuffed as soon as we got off the crane. They wouldn't drive us through the main entrance of the hall of justice. (About 20 Earth First! members rallied at the main entrance, carried the "wailing tree" and handed out flyers urging a ban on log exports.) When we got to the third floor they put us in a holding cell. Just us four. We were booked, fingerprints, palmprints--those palmprints are pretty wierd. Didn't know they did that. You wouldn't believe how much paper work goes into getting arrested. I must have signed my name 12 times. They gave us peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, orange juice and the most god awful dust cookies I've ever had. Supposed to be chocolate chip. I wanted to take my copy of Desert Solitaire by Edward Abbey--he wrote the Monkey Wrench Gang--but they said we weren't allowed to take anything in. We were taken to a cinder block room with an opaque window, maybe 25 x 12, with two stainless steel tables and a TV that blares 24 hours with one volume setting: full blast. We got two wool blankets apiece, two sheets and a pillowcase. No pillow. And these funky sandals. Ugly polyurethane things. They didn't give me my sandals for five hours. I finally had to bug the guards to give me some and I got a pair of double extra large, one of them was broken in half--I was definitely amused by the footwear. Guess its from being in shoes, you know, for five years. At Nordstrom's. That's where I work, but that may not be important to write down. People at work might get hassled as it is. I took a day off to do this.

Interesting group in the jail--Augustine and Manuel, two Mexicans, and then this big Sioux, his name is Iron Cloud. He was in there for DWI (driving while intoxicated). Manuel said "I had some trouble with my wife." Augustine was also DWI, and there was this other guy, real clean cut, in there for shoplifting. He said he was serving five days for shoplifting. That sort of clued me that we were in trouble. We told them we were in for protesting. Bob, the boss of the cell, an ex-logger, said "that's great." Pretty funny guy, Bob. We managed to have some interesting conversations with Bob and the clean-cut guy, about log exports. They said log exports can't possibly supply the needs of China, Japan and Korea. We got some good dialog going on in there. Felt like jail solidarity. They're just normal people. Jail was much more revealing than I thought it would be, but it is most dehumanizing. You are removed from all your possessions. If you want to go to the library, you have to fill out a request form. Request forms for everything.

They let us out 28 hours later, about 4 p.m. on Friday. They charged us with 'interference of owner control of property.' A felony. Found out this law was enacted in 1919, and it was designed to keep the dock workers in line. The last time they used the law was ten years ago, against longshoremen. We have a lawyer. I hope to plea bargain, get the charges reduced to a misdemeanor. But then we're open to restitution--the owners of the ship are claiming $25,000 in damages--Kerr Steamships of Portland. And the owners of the logs, International Paper, are also pushing a suit. We'll be arraigned on Thursday.

I make house payments. I own a couple of cars. That's my big concern. I don't know if I can justify 5 to 6 hours of down-time for this. I went back to work Saturday, and people who had seen me on TV were laughing. The guys wanted to know what jail is like. I'm keeping a low profile. I don't just climb cranes. I try to get people out to vote. But I live in a suburban home.