Paradise Lost

The ascot, gone (sigh). T-tops, history (dear God, it's about time). Whale-bone corsets, Santa Fe decorating, "Magnum P.I." and "Hee Haw," all gone. It seems for some, all good things must come to their end, as bemoaned as their passing is by ardent supporters. In the case of "Hee Haw," it was probably dueling-banjos playing taps among the buck-toothed and cross-eyed.

Joining the ranks of the gone but not forgotten will be our own EMU beer gardens. The beer gardens' passing is, unfortunately, not the result of an insipid Baptist plan to eradicate the true evils of the world: drinking and its satanic festival counterpart dancing, but rather the victim of simple economics. Not enough drinking, not enough drunks. The question however will remain: Does the EMU beer garden join the ranks of the hallowed (e.g. "Magnum P.I." and the ascot), or will it be received into one of Signore Allegre's vaunted circles of Hell, joining bound feet and the idea of Geraldine Ferraro as a running-mate? But, before addressing the musings of an educated vagabond, let us set the way-back machine to Fall 1991.

As a young transfer student finally being formally introduced to Division I level alcoholism and equipped with a horrible California fake-ID (circa pre-1990), I was introduced simultaneously to the fabled EMU beer gardens and a band named Multiple Sarcasm. I had previously attended these events as a guest, but had been forced to gain admission through extensive subterfuge due to my lack of ID (once through bribing the band members to slip me in as a roadie--no comment on the bribe). Yet, this was my first as an official student and I made the most of it, vomit-fertilizing at least a dozen shrubs, two ill-placed graves and committing untold acts of savagery on my stumble home. To this day I could not identify a note of music played by Multiple Sarcasm.

The EMU beer gardens had served two important purposes. One, it allowed my assassination at an early hour, so as to allow for ample recovery time to renew my liver-elimination efforts on Saturday. And two, early training in the use of contraband ID. You see, the use of a fake ID, especially one as suspect as mine was, requires either guile or blind confidence in your ID. Seeing my fake work at the beer gardens charged me with renewed bravado. Of course, that bravado later cost me a $20 bribe to recover it from a large bouncer at Guido's.

The demise of the beer gardens was written on the wall in 1993. The OLCC, in a particularly fascist effort even for them, heavily fined the EMU for its praiseworthy laxness in enforcing the ID rules. Subsequently, when one was not even interested in drinking, yet merely wished to use the south-east exit of the EMU, "Your papers, please!" was the common greeting received from the Bulgarian security forces manning the door.

It would be fascinating to pry from the OLCC officer who levied the fine just exactly what the compelling state interest was in so closely scrutinizing an event which people rarely drove to or from and left by approximately nine p.m. at the latest. Contrast this to a downtown establishment (which shall remain nameless, but is under new management...) that is notorious for its history of acceptance of any age documentation, or lack thereof. An establishment which the great majority of patrons drive to intoxicated in the late evening and leave even more intoxicated in the wee hours of the morning seems a greater priority to this consumer of the nectar of the gods. Of course I don't think too many tears would be shed should all the OLCC agents in the state suddenly have their teeth kicked in by a flatulent camel.

However, the blame cannot lie solely on the storm troopers of Jerry Falwell (pre-"I've sinned" days) and the Carry Nation battalions. No, as usual on this campus, student apathy and bizarre mismanagement rear their ugly heads. It seems these two hydras have conspired to kill all that was good, from Taste of Germany to bonfires to the Greek system (it's not dead yet, but neither is that 120-year-old woman in France). And, as is also usual, one spawns the other in a vicious cycle.

The mismanagement was legendary, from the pricing of the beer, to the bands booked, to the beer selection, to the lack of descent food concessions.

The lack of food was annoying, due to the fact that to eat, one had to leave the venue, leave or finish their beer, and then subject their stomachs to EMU food, which makes a 7-11 bowl of ass-rot nachos taste like tiramisu in comparison. True, when drunk anything tastes good (just ask a certain Publisher Emeritus) but take a look some time at just how intoxicated or mentally deranged those eating at 7-11 are.

The beer pricing and selection were abysmal. Micros were available, but not in a very wide selection and usually a different brewery would take turns playing "Monopolist for a Day." The price mirrored that of a local pub, yet the beer was served in plastic or paper, and much more foamy. See if you can follow me on this: Would you rather pay $2.50-$3.00 a pint and sit in a wood paneled pub of intimate dimensions and be able to catch an afternoon pennant race, NBA game, NCAA hoops, or Sports Center, or just converse with your friends following a tough week? Or. . .would you rather sit in what resembles the lunatic asylum from "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" or your grade school cafeteria/gymnasium... drink from a plastic cup... AND PAY THE SAME PRICE!

Yes, you say, but there was a band at the EMU. Look, Išm no J. Pierson, but I consider myself somewhat up on the local music scene, and the bands these guys booked . . . sucked for the most part. Furthermore, when someone good did perform, they were usually half-ass, saving their performance for a second show later that night at Good-Times, WOW Hall, etc.

You can only listen to "Kill all the white people and/or the corporate lackeys, but buy my records first" so many times, so many ways before you start wondering if those who make up the EMU Cultural Forum are on the take from a down on his luck Reggae/Punk promoter. Furthermore, the advertising for these bands was roughly on the level of Amway's. You basically needed to hear word of mouth who was playing to have any idea before you stumbled across a loud blur of noise emanating from the skylight. A better suggestion, and one never explored, would have been to have such events in the EMU Ballroom. This would have provided a much more intimate setting, both acoustically and environmentally.

Unfortunately these events all conspired to create a vortex in which declining student interest brought lower revenue, fewer bands of any note or distinction, leading to declining beer sales, and so on and so forth.

The saddest part of the whole incident are the comments from those involved who still do not seem to understand the simple dynamic of why it all happened: The beer was still too expensive and inaccessible to students. Underage students, who are always willing to overpay for beer couldn't get in and cheapskate senior-citizens like myself would rather pay full price down on 13th.

This is most likely the last wešve seen of the EMU beer gardens. I would like to see it replaced by less frequent events with bigger acts playing at, say, Mac Court, with cheap beer and good bands, perhaps even the Beastie Boys or Smashing Pumpkins, or at least the Mighty Mighty Bosstones (oh to dream!).

Maybe those of you who will remain to pick up the pieces of your shattered lives will allow it to rise reborn from the ashes... (Enough! There're blood drops forming on the page.)

Harrison Lynch wrote this for the Oregon Commentator