Archive for Susan Hauser

Interviewing Ursula Le Guin

January 29, 2018 books, personalities, writing One comment

The death of Ursula Le Guin on January 22 made me sad over our loss of the doyenne of Portland writers, but also put me in a nostalgic mood for the day in 1991 that I interviewed her for a People magazine profile. My story ran on November 18 of that year.

She invited me to her home on Northwest Thurman Street, where we sat outside and talked about her childhood. Raised by anthropologists who were particularly interested in nearly extinct Native American tribes, Ursula remembered a home that was full of activity from her three brothers and from a constant stream of Indians, one of whom, Ishi, was the subject of her mother’s famous book, Ishi in Two Worlds.

She showed me where she usually sat to write, on her porch overlooking the Willamette River. She wrote longhand on tablets and later entered her writing onto her computer in her office, which was on the top floor of the sprawling house.

As we parted, I asked if there was someone from whom she would like me to request a quote. She answered, “Joyce Carol Oates.” I gulped, said, “No problem,” and later panicked. I had no idea how to reach her. Fortunately, at the same time that I was a People correspondent, I was also a regular contributor to The Wall Street Journal’s Leisure & Arts Page. I called my editor there, Ray Sokolov.

No problem, he said. He and Joyce were currently both on a Pulitzer Prize judging panel and he could give me her home number. “Don’t tell her where you got the number,” he said.

Later I called Ursula to tell her how enthusiastic Ms. Oates had been about her. She was very pleased, but confessed, “I haven’t read a single thing by her!” As an afterthought, she said, “Don’t tell anybody!”

Shortly before the article was to be published, I got a frantic call from a People magazine copy editor. The photographer hadn’t provided much information about where he had photographed Ursula, and they were wondering the name of the “huge mountain” Ursula was sitting near. I knew that she had taken the photographer to her cabin at Cannon Beach, but nobody had said anything to me about going to the mountains for photos.

That was before the Internet, however, so the editor couldn’t share the photo with me electronically. I had to wait until the magazine hit the stands. I hurried to Rich’s Cigar Store, opened a copy and saw Ursula sitting in front of . . . Haystack Rock.

As Ursula would have said, with a sad shake of her head, “Those Easterners!”

Remembering Katherine

May 11, 2017 writing 2 comments

I just realized that today, May 11, marks the one-year  anniversary of the death of Katherine Dunn. Just as that realization hit me, I looked up to see a rather robust crow land on the roof of the neighboring building. It hopped to the gutter, reached in and pulled

A Clever Corvid

A Clever Corvid

out to be what appeared to be a peanut.

“Good going, Katherine!” I cried. You see, Katherine was fascinated by birds, particularly by the highly intelligent and crafty corvids: crows and ravens. Naturally, I would recognize Katherine’s spirit in a visiting crow.

But that crow wasn’t done. With the nut clenched in its beak, it hopped a few feet over and dived in to the gutter, surfacing with a second peanut. Holding both nuts in its beak, it flew away.

Since Katherine’s death I have thought of her often, with or without crows in my proximity. We were fellow writers but we bonded over boxing. For years we had a standing

Katherine & Chuck

Katherine & Chuck

date to go to the boxing gym and meet up with other women and our coach, Chuck Lincoln. I would pull up in front of Katherine’s apartment house and a few minutes later she would emerge, gym bag over her shoulder, smiling and greeting her neighbors as she came to the car.

“Hiya, Hellcat!” she would call to me.

I had the luxury of a ring name, Hellcat Hauser, given to me by a boxing promoter who had read my 1987 article about boxing in The Wall Street Journal. At the gym Katherine was just, well, Katherine, and that could be daunting enough if you ever faced her in the ring. We sparred once, and once was enough. Man, could she hit!

But most often when I think of her, I remember how selfless she was in promoting and encouraging other writers. Having Katherine in your corner, in and outside of the ring, brought the most wonderful and warm feeling of security in a tough world.

In a conversation with my daughter today (who was also part of our boxing group), I remarked how certain deceased relatives of mine were always seeking recognition, while cutting down people they saw as competition. “But to receive recognition you have to give it,” Meriwether wisely remarked. “Your appreciation and recognition of others is what makes you stand out to other people and gain recognition for yourself.”

And with that, my mind returned again to Katherine. As the acclaimed author of Geek Love, she was justifiably recognized around the world for her great talent as a writer, but among those who knew her she was loved for her generosity of spirit. She always had an encouraging word, a supportive pat on the back, a confident “You can do it!”

Now I’m more convinced than ever that the crow I just saw was Katherine. She found one peanut for herself, but took another one to give to a friend.

Rest in peace.

R.I.P. Packy

February 9, 2017 animals, blog, journalism No comments
Packy as newborn

Packy as newborn

Sad news from the Oregon Zoo. Packy, Portland’s star pachyderm, was euthanized today after all efforts to relieve him of the effects of a drug-resistant form of tuberculosis failed. He was 54.

His birth on April 14,1962 made international news because he was the first elephant born in the Western Hemisphere in 44 years. The fuzzy little fellow (a mere 150 pounds at birth) became every Portland child’s favorite animal and from 1963 on, his birthday party at the zoo was well attended, sometimes by thousands of kids and adults.

Everyone wore elephant ears, including the elephant, and everyone got cake, including the elephant. In fact, Packy’s annual birthday cake was a major production. With carrots instead of candles and made with elephant-healthy ingredients (e.g., peanut butter instead of frosting), the culinary creation was placed in the elephants’ outdoor area by someone who then had to run for his life before the seven-ton bull elephant was released.

As Packy’s trunk made the first swipe across the surface of the cake, a live band would begin to play “Happy Birthday” and all the zoo visitors sang the song.

Packy at 52

Packy at 52

In 1995 I wrote about Packy’s 33rd birthday for the Leisure & Arts Page of The Wall Street Journal. I had proposed the article several weeks before the birthday event, but my beloved editor, Ray Sokolov, didn’t see the humor in an elephant birthday party and he turned me down. What I resorted to was something I had learned as a child: if one parent turns you down, ask the other.

Ray had to go out of town and he turned over the editing of the page to a deputy. I pitched the same story to him and he told me to go for it. By the time Ray returned to the office, my article, “Seven Tons of Birthday Fun,” had already been assigned, written and published.

Fortunately, Ray was pleased that I’d gone around him in order to write the story, which he had really enjoyed. He ended up complimenting me on my trunk, er, nose for news.

(With thanks for the photos and condolences to the staff of the Oregon Zoo.)

 

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