we love you daveau

from terri

2006-02-03T11:49:00.000-08:00

this is terri, daveau's ex(wife) from decades ago...i made it to the memorial but was a few hours late due to the slide closing down traffic on 101 at confusion hill that morning (remember?). I've emailed kmud to see if there is a recording of the service/memorial which i missed that afternoon, but haven't heard back as of yet. i would love to know if it exists...and listen to it...anyone know about this?

many heartfelt thanks to all for sharing such big love and appreciation for daveau since he left us, at least our immediate vicinity. may we continue our outward generosity to all those around us and carry on the memory of dave til the end of our days. i know i will.

terri

from cyoakha

2006-01-24T09:13:00.000-08:00

This is Cyoakha Grace and I met Davo out at Burning
Man the year many Humbolt folks joined the Oregon
Country Fair Embassy camp. (04?) Daryl was hosting the
musicians that year and Land of the Blind had been
playing there for 4 years as house band, but I was
happy to find there was no competitive vibe going on,
which was so cool cause I can't stand that shite, but
still, there was a feeling of "outsider", being from
Portland-SF and not from Humbolt, just a little of not
"one of us"...but that didn't last long because of a
big smiling bear. During one of our first
performances along with the other bands, I noticed a
large smiling bear of a dude with long gray hair
standing right in front of us, just grinning at me as
I was singing. We play such different music, not any
of the "acceptable hippie music", it's not folky,
rocky, nor rootsy, but rather world mixed with tribal
and trance with heavy spiritual and ecological lyrics,
(not many folks "get us", we usually get a blank
stare)...but I could tell that this smiling hippie guy
was different, and got us, instantly. He came up and
introduced himself "Hi I'm Davo and I love what you
guys are doing" and we made one of those instant
"family" connections, we dug him and his vibe greatly.
He asked if he could jam with us sometimes. I said
yes, cause I am a fellow love child fair minded hippie
but frankly, most of the time someone asks to sit in
with us it's usually a disaster, cause we actually
play songs, not just jam, and we tend to not
head in the direction of rock, folk or jazz, which is
where 90% of musicians go in improv, but I had this
good feeling about him. He just seemed forthright, not
the kind of guys that says he gets it just to play. He
also brought us over to the "Humbolt" camp area and I
felt much less an "outsider". He shared his lovely is
homemade wine with us, which I loved, no headache! He
said he loved us and our music (I hear he even played
it now and then on kmud). We just loved his sweet
quiet yet fun spirit.

The next night Blind decided to just play out in the
middle of the playa on our own because of stage
pressure to be on time (out in the most timeless space
in the universe, I just couldn't handle it), but I
invited Davo to join us. I told him our system was
just an amp run by a golf cart battery, both stuck in
a little red wagon we pulled out onto the desert.
(experimental music played experimentally!) Many folks
would have been
blown away, too weird. Many musicians with an ego
would have balked "I wanna play with you on the OCF
stage!". But Davo the free spirit loved it. He got our
musical vibe and feel for the desert and performing to
the night, just for ourselves and the playa. He jammed
out with us for hours, our only audience an occasional
bike rider drawn out by our dreamy sound together
(beats, didgeridoo, vocals and Davo's warm bass). It
was a
true magical Burning Man moment for me, following your
heart and finding community in that. Plus he played a
really good solid groove too, really became one of us,
he's a really good bass player!!! We were just
standing out on the playa and playing strange heavenly
dreamy music....I was astounded someone so "got us",
such a kindred soul. Another lesson on judgement for
me because he looked like a dude that would play jam
folk rock boy music, but no, inside was a good
musician with a giant heart
and an intellect that appreciated something a little
"off the map". Reading the stories here about him I
think he was always up for an adventure, whether or
not it was wine, music, rivers....

When we left for SF he filled my van with his
wonderful wine, two jugs of it. I still have a 1/4 jug
which I will have a ritual for Davo when I return to
SF from tour and drink a toast to a happy hippie bear.
To an adventuresome music lover. To a mt man, an
earthy wine maker, a good friend to many, a big
hearted guy. To what I want to say is "a real man",
all that a man can be, kind, fun, funny, sweet and
warm. I will miss you buddy, I will sing for you out
on the playa this year and toast you again. May your
spirit fly free and far. May your pain be gone. May
your dreams remain. May we remember you always.

love, cyoakha

from cristina and david bergin

2006-01-20T13:31:00.000-08:00

FROM CRISTINA
I must confess I only knew Daveau from KMUD bar gigs and from his association with my partner, David Bergin, from whose grapes Daveau made beautiful wine. A few years ago three people – my David, David Booth, and Hardy – got the same vine cuttings from Daveau, and the combination of the same grapes, grown in different soils and climates, really worked wonderfully.
The last time I saw Daveau was on Sunday, Dec. 18, when the last start-to-finish Daveau wine, the 2003 Pinot Noir, was bottled (there are still 2004 and 2005 vintages in barrel). I’d been invited to bottling twice before, and hadn’t been able to make it; on the 18^th I enjoyed watching, but with six people already there, I was in the way. I also had a couple of short interviews to conduct for the paper, so I was in and out all day; the only useful thing I did was procure snacks. I didn’t get to talk to Daveau much, since he was busy, but I did take some pictures. Man, am I happy I did THAT, at least. The last bottling.
The first time I met Daveau, I was somewhat nonplussed. I’d heard all manner of wonderful things about the guy, what a great winemaker he was, and how brilliant, a real Renaissance man, and so on and so forth… so I was not prepared for someone who would have blended in with the Redway Laundromat Brigade. Or, as a friend of mine put it just a few weeks ago (before Daveau’s death), “he has that odd, frumpy, Gérard Depardieu kind of charm.” I thought that pretty much nailed it.
What struck me the most, really, was his lust for life and living. Not having spent that much, er, quality time with him, upon reading the blog entries I was really impressed by how much he did apart from wine, KMUD and slumlording. He came over for dinner a few times in the last couple of years, and damn, could he eat. I don’t really trust people who don’t eat well; I figure that if they can’t really enjoy one of the two most primal pleasures in life, they can’t really enjoy any of the rest of them, either. Daveau put away a pound of London broil before I even sat down, and after we were done, looked around at everyone’s plate and said, “Are you gonna eat all that?”
The last time he came over, David called me at work and asked me to pick up some groceries.
“Daveau’s coming over.”
“OK, honey, I’ll pick up half a cow.”
“He’s bringing Sonda.”
“Fine, I’ll pick up a whole cow and two chickens.”
I spoke to Deb Winter the day after the accident (she’s in Arizona now). David spoke to her too – they had a great talk – but afterwards, he told me he couldn’t “see the silver lining” like she could. I asked him what he meant; he said Deb thought Daveau had a lot of health problems, and might have been condemned to a long, slow decline. Some people think it’s all totally senseless, other people believe in karma, destiny, whatever. Being a recovered Jehovah’s Witness, I haven’t given even a smidgen of thought to such things since May 9, 2002. So I’ll just say this: 1) People drive WAY too fucking fast around here, especially on rainy days. I’ll spare you my lecture on the culture of speed, which all my friends have heard, and which I don’t really need to subject everyone else to. 2) It’s a huge, huge loss for us, and it’s very, very difficult to accept, but maybe Deb has a point. Maybe it’s better for someone with an immeasurable love for living to go fast, after a rich and fulfilled life, than to go slowly, suffering, until that love for living becomes measured at last.
I’d like to say rest in peace, but I’m not sure peace is what Daveau sought. If he was indeed “our Bacchus” – as several people here have said – he’ll be on Mt. Olympus whooping it up before he’ll set foot in any pristine Judeo-Christian heaven.

FROM DAVID BERGIN

It seems fitting that I first met Daveau at Briceland Vineyards, where his guru, Joe Collins, was giving a pruning workshop.
I always wanted to grow wine, so I jumped at the chance to learn what I could from an expert. I hung out in the vineyard with them all afternoon, asking questions as the group dwindled away, until it was late and just the three of us were left. Then Daveau turned to me and said, “So, you want to taste some wine?”
I followed him to his Redway cellar, rehearsing polite phrases of appreciation, for who knew what kind of homemade booze this might be? The winery was the usual dim and dingy chaos, but there were barrels everywhere—genuine French oak! Something serious was going on here, but what? He found his only glass and smudged off some of the top layers of grime and handed it to me. He looked around for a second, and seized on his half-gallon Tupperware measuring cup. Popping a cork from an unlabeled bottle, he announced “95 Cab,” and poured us a big splash.
The color was gorgeous—deep garnet, clear, but with intense body. The nose was beautiful, fruity and rich. Then the first sip: incredible! Blueberries in the fruit, and—was that—yes, chocolate! “Wow,” I said, “this is good!”
“Yeah, it is, huh?” he grinned.
“No, I mean this is really good!”
“Yeah, I know!” he beamed.
He still made whites then. We tried some Riesling that was passable; very fruity, not exactly crisp, but aged in stainless steel for that clean, neutral flavor. Then some chardonnay, this with a year in French oak. Also very drinkable, flowery and not over-oaked. He talked about how he liked both of them, but they each seemed to him to be missing something. “But now check this out,” he said, as he poured some more Riesling into my glass and an equal amount of chard into his tub. Then he poured mine into his and swirled them together, and pouring half back for me said, “So what do you think? Better than either by themselves, right?”
Damn, he was right!
I begged him to sell me some red, and I think he did part with a case of the ‘95. But he pointed to the barrels full of the ‘97 wines he had just finished, and said that futures were where it’s at. He would agree to sell me cases ridiculously cheap if I would pay now, wait two years, then help him bottle it.
I jumped at the deal; I think I committed to 10 cases if I could pay it off over the first year. That was as much as I could afford. I was hooked.
The next year was ‘99, and I doubled down. I wanted as much as he would sell me, a whole barrel even. And that’s what we did, but this time I had to help him with every step, from picking the grapes, to crushing and fermentation and pressing, and eventually, bottling. It was worth it just for the education, but it turned out to be a great vintage. We made pinot noir from Alderpoint, Myers Flat, Ettersburg, little vineyards all over Southern Humboldt, each with different character, different terroir, but all great.
Sometime in the middle of all this, Daveau called me up to ask, “So, you want to buy 100 vines?” He was putting together this deal to buy a thousand top-quality bench-grafted vines by getting several people to go in with him. It sounded so easy then, just a hundred, maybe two hundred vines; that’s like nothing, right?
He offered to make the wine if I grew the grapes, and we’d split the product “fitty-fitty” when it was bottled. I gulped and said sure…
Not having a vineyard to put them in was a bit of a problem. Generally, you build the infrastructure first, and the living plants are practically the last thing to go in. I had it exactly bass-ackwards. Well, I figured I could nurse them in pots for a year in my garden, enough time, I was sure, to build the vineyard.
I had a huge collection of recycled plastic pots, from when I used to do landscaping. I have a big garden, nearly a half acre fenced. So I set the baby vines out in five gallon pots and put them on drip; 100 pinot noir and 50 cab sauvignons.
I did have a vineyard site, where I had actually terraced off and deep-ripped a couple acres of sunny, south-sloping meadow, when I did my first Cat work on my land. But it was already overgrowing with brush, so that had to be cleared, then holes drilled with a tractor-auger for all the vines and trellis posts, build a tight fence, irrigation systems and drip lines laid out.
Five years later, I was still “catching up” to the vines, finishing an elaborate trellis, and pruning to correct the faults the vines suffered from their intermittent care. But they are finally beginning to look like the real vineyard I envisioned for so long, and we made great wine for four years, beginning in ‘02.
Some of the other vines from our deal went to a couple friends up in Salmon Creek. None of us can produce enough to fill a whole, 60-gallon barrel; not with the low-yield, high quality juice we all want to grow. So, of course, Daveau blended us. And, just like that first, outrageous mix of Riesling and chardonnay, I think the blend is better than any of them by themselves. We all have exactly the same clones, but you can taste wonderful differences from where and how they are grown—their terroir.
I’m down at 1000 feet of elevation, mid-slope in a little, southwest-facing pocket. The other guys are up around 2000, with, I think, a little more easterly exposure. My fruit ripens a week or two earlier, and gets a little sweeter, but theirs tends to hold the acid a little better, so they complement each other perfectly. Then, there are the subtle differences that come from the soil, adding depth and complexity when they are combined. I plan to do a lot more tasting to try to understand these mysteries.
I think Daveau had an intuitive understanding of these mysteries that could never come from a book or a lab. I only know approximately what he did, but fortunately he kept detailed, if cryptic, notes, which I intend to study like a Talmudic scholar.
Grapes are a life-long commitment. Nothing lasts forever, but my life was bound up with Daveau’s, and I suppose I took it for granted that we would be there for each other for a long time to come. Now he’s gone. “He’s gone, and nothing’s going to bring him back.” What else can we do now, but just keep on keeping on?
150 vines sounded so simple back then, in the beginning. Now I know that it’s huge, and not easy. My hobby has morphed into an obsession, and my scale is at this level that’s not casually sustainable, but still nowhere near breaking even. I can’t quit now, I’m in too deep. I think it’s time for me to really get serious about this wine-growing thing.
I’ve bet my life on this, and now I think I’m going to have to double-down.
This will be for you, Daveau. I love you, man.

costa rica with harpo

2006-01-20T13:09:00.000-08:00

from david to daveau

2006-01-16T22:08:00.000-08:00

listen to david tonight (1-17) on kmud's enviornment show at 7pm,
as he discusses this and other daveau stories.

celebration! circle

2006-01-16T22:07:00.000-08:00

baby david

2006-01-16T21:49:00.000-08:00

straw bale dudes

2006-01-13T18:52:00.000-08:00

from booie

2006-01-12T14:16:00.000-08:00

Although it’s been a few years since I have personally run into Daveau, I can’t help but feel that there is a big (Daveau-sized) hole in our world and our hearts. A teddy bear with a heart of gold, and just enough curmudgeon to never be at risk of being boring. Daveau was also one of the few of his generation who felt no need to constantly define himself with one generation; he was the real deal---I never once heard from him about how many years he had lived in sohum, or what he did in Berkeley in the 60’s. He always had friends of all ages, a group of people actively trying to live their ideals.
A man always ready to help, and with no trips about it!
Where will the non-millionaires live now?
What will we drink?
Who will befriend those new to the community?
There will never be another Daveau; now he joins the Witherspoon ancestors. It’s good to know that they have not only a signer of the Declaration of Independence among them, but joining them now is one who lived the highest values of independence and interdependence.
Peace and Love to you Daveau, and Blessings to you on your next journey!
I hope you can plug in one of those heavenly harps, and put a little distortion on it (and a variable name).
Love Booie

from david kupfer

2006-01-12T10:13:00.000-08:00

I am so incredibly moved by this blog and the tributes and the preparations for the Memorial. A big loss for me, as he was the finest beatnik in my live, and we shared many moments together-Dave and I hiked the lost coast, we kayaked Costa Rica, we took our surfboards in wetsuits down the Eel from Benbow to Redway. He was an epic, radical individual, a rather witty, sardonic, understated man whose world view, sense of humor, and counter attitude paralled mine. We enoyed a whole lotta fine music, wine, and grape crushing together. Above all Daveau had a great intellect, mucho life wisdom, a big heart, a giving nature, and a fine consciousness. I look forward to the good grief we will share this Saturday as I am sure it will be cathartic for all. I will bring Costa Rica pics of the man in the water, and a pack of memories as well.

Lotsa love to you all, some of y'all I have called friends for decades.

david kupfer

daveau lammy

2006-01-11T22:31:00.000-08:00

thanks to kim sallaway and katy stern
for producing this lammy so quickly.

from Charley

2006-01-11T15:06:00.000-08:00

Daveau was so much more than what his mislaid parts might add up to--he was part debonair slumlord inveigling his rent-paying vassals to "Live like peasants, eat like kings!"; he was part hallucinatory social theorist instructing said vassals that "Our relationship is basically Master/vassals, right?"--like he hadn't made sure his vassalage included EPIC orators and Earth First!ers, a frothing KMUD anarcho-ideologue of genius, and a certain professoriat-hardened, quasi-professional disagreer--no worries! No need to talk if you don't agree, disagreeable talk wasn't Daveau's way. Hey, he'd slosh to you, have another one. Cheers!
Yet he told the tragicomedies of his life as well as anyone could, and God knows we must too. I wish he could tell me a lot more of them--so I guess I'll have to now. When we moved into his rental compound, Liz and I christened it Chateau Daveau in a fit of gentrification-delusion--and slowly beheld our cloud-cuckoo chateau oozing into its undergirding blue goo, with our delusions and belongings slurping right along, inspiring us as we moved out five years later to rechristen it Dumpo Davo.
We moved to land we'd sought for three years, and bought with money saved by that cheap dashing of said delusions. My point isn't just what we owe Dave Witherspoon, but that both of our extreme names for his psyche’s compound were true. Daveau was like that, to such a mind-bending extent that I think every thing anyone has ever said about him is true. That's a hell of a legacy, but he was indeed bigger than any story about him, he contained multitudes.
We weren't on princely terms with Daveau when we moved out, he never told us why, though we started collecting our own reasons. But he showed up at our housewarming party the day we moved, after the heavy lifting was over, I saw him sitting on our new porch, drinking a beer! We toasted each other in gesture, but I've never felt so tactfully slapped across my face, and I otherwise ignored him.
A few days later my new psycho-tweaker lunatic neighbor (did I say violent?), whose property happens to be our driveway, came up to me strangely abashed and said, "I'm sorry but I gotta start locking the gate, the tweakers are hauling their garbage up here again. Gotta keep out the abandoned cars." I had a "What the Bleep" moment--you know how the 'Indians' couldn't see Columbus's ships off their coast, because their brains had no categories to understand the ships into?
At that moment I realized that, far from the usual psycho-tweaker garbage that my neighbor and I routinely chatted about, he was discussing a vehicle that I once knew, that I in fact owned, back in the dark Dumpo days . . . GAAAH!! He was talking about my Moldmobile! It was on the psycho-tweaker’s property! Disabled at my gate! The very vehicle that I had left in Daveau’s parking lot to deal with later, or to mold into the hillside, whichever came first, he done Dumpoed onto the psycho-tweaker next door because Daveau didn’t trust me! No wonder he drank beer! And he did wield a mean flatbed . . . I could only repeat to myself the mantra I took years before from Eddy Murphy’s first bit on ‘Saturday Night Live,’ where he played a gifted young slum boy reciting his poetry. His landmark poem went
Nice doggy
do he bite?
Kill my landlord!
Ah, the solace! But there was more solace—for a year after that Liz and I dreamed of lugging back to the Dumpo an old fridge so foul that its doors wouldn’t close over the crusts inside (for we were suddenly wealthy in such things), because the fridge had a big bumpersticker across it with a beer stein that said “Draft Sam Adams.” We were planning to leave that puppy directly athwart the winery door. I would have done it too, Daveau had earned it, but sadly, I was never drunk enough. I was missing Daveau already. But from such stories I’ve gotten lotsa yocks, and I’m bound to say my neighbor conceded that he would have hated me anyway.
Stories are our immortality, and Daveau lives. Here’s how he most deeply lives in me. His soul-transit through high Victorianism across his Berkeley brattage (surely you don't expect Daveau to make sense?!) made of him a lifelong besotted moralist, a self-improver in ever-unfurling excesses, a mendicant of good sense while broadcasting over it at the needy and heedless alike his tributes to ghosts--ghosts whose chains rattle fewer and fewer of us--his trademark bombardments of "madder music and stronger wine."
Was landLord Witherspoon his grandfather's grimmest shadow? Was he his father's doppelganger never bagged by Cal? He was touched by so much more than his calluses let feel touching him, yet he held all this as easy as bottles clanking in his lap.
I guess I have to admit I loved him. I think it's because I'm as haunted as he was by the unfashionable class ghouls we share that I enjoyed him so much, learned so much from him, and came to appall him so. I kept worming him for explanations and follow-through, even after a good laugh. But Daveau makes me wonder from my depths--at the end of the day, or if it be of eternity: are we here to understand why we're here? or to enjoy a meal which may be our last, and to have another good glass?
I don't know. I can say that for Daveau too. Bro, cheers!

chateau daveaux

2006-01-11T11:53:00.000-08:00

there are some freinds you see and you just say hi and hows it going. then there are friends that you actually get excited and happy to run into. daveaux was that kind of guy to me and many others around here. a few years ago i remember i was selling some pinot noir grapes to daveaux and when we were pulling the trailer full of grapes out of the vineyard the whole back of the trailer broke out and 1 and 1/2 tons of grapes fell out on to the gravel road. it was a horror to me but daveaux was undisturbed and just said "that'll add some complexties to the wine". amazing!!.. when we were starting our own winery (elk prairie vineyard) i of course was very worried about this new adventure but knew i could always
count on help with any winemaking questions from daveaux and of course joe. this world has lost a truly good man in daveaux."a gentle giant"
alan on fruitland ridge

from the east coast smugglers

2006-01-10T21:56:00.000-08:00

Just a quick note from 2 New Yorkers who loved Daveau: whenever we visited our beloved Bacchus we'd struggle back to Brooklyn laden with tinkling bottles under our plane seats, sharing the mysterious labeless red vintages with all of our friends over a good meal. Always the first toast would be to Daveau! People begged us for more. Thank you Daveau for connecting the East Coast with the West in a spirit of creating & giving, adding roots to your community & to ours. We will never forget you. Miranda and Steve.

from pi

2006-01-10T21:47:00.000-08:00

there's wine in that better place
Davo? Yeah man

Daveau at the KMUD X-mas Party 2004

2006-01-10T15:43:00.000-08:00

Posting for Agnes Patak, who forwarded this picture:

Thank you Daveau for all the laughs and showing us all the importance of "walking your talk." You have been a guardian angel to KMUD on this physical plane. Now you are watching over us from a spiritual place. Tears and laughter and love,
Agnes

From Nadananda

2006-01-10T11:49:00.000-08:00

I had just returned home from Roxanne's memorial at the Mateel to find Karen at my house, who in great sorrow told me the saddest of news. She was worried about his dog and wondering what to do. At that moment in the dim light it seemed natural to see Daveau sitting beside her looking at her and then at me. When I agreed to go to KMUD with her he faded away. It all seemed so natural and I was so distressed it did not occure to me that this would be unusual until the next day. And it was so appropriate that we went to KMUD as it kicked off the search for his dog.
Over the past few days the pain has begun to subside but the memories continue to surface, my first trip down the Eel with Deveau, Joe and Becka; as engineer for the Friends of the Eel River environment show alternating with Fred Baron; his smile and nod of approval of something discussed on the show; his showing up at our fundraisers with wine to share; his ups and downs and normal crusing.
Oh Deveau, how a giant of a man could disappear from our lives so quickly leaves me feeling ever so small and so very vunerable. The tears continue in waves and my prayers are ceaseless that there is peace and light where ever you have gone.
With love,
Nadananda

Daveau's Name

2006-01-10T10:17:00.000-08:00

Senseless death bitterly ironic he was assiduously careful about driving. grrrrrrrrrr

Daveau was the first KMUD DJ to put our band on the air, and he wound up playing bass with us for a while. Which is why I know that for him, the name "Daveau" was a single name, a humorous take on "Davo" from back in the day. For him it was either call him Daveau or call him David Witherspoon, but he would cringe to hear himself called Daveau Witherspoon.

Does it matter what we say and do when someone is gone? I think it does. So I had to write.

We've lost a giant. ##!#@#!%@!&**!!

--Victoria

Those were the days

2006-01-09T20:37:00.000-08:00

Hello everyone my name is Karl Prebor, and although I have not seen Davo in a long time, there was a time when we were buds. This is a look back to just some of those days. I'm not known as a great writer, nor can I spell, but hopefully this will give a small glimpse into some of my times with Davo.
I actually knew Davo when he was Dave, back in the Crooked Prairie days. Before he played the bass, before he was a slum lord, and before he knew how to kayak. Back then he was a surfer. When the wine makers' were Harold and Dave. I first met Davo when he was starting the Crooked Prairie Fire Dept. Well, actually he was lost in the woods driving around Doody ridge road looking for someone's place, but instead he drove up on me working on a water line. There I am looking at this vehicle, and all of a sudden this big dude gets out. Well, it was Davo, and this was sometime in the 80's. We were not close at this time. It would be later in life that we would form a bond. We would cross paths at different times. I played the guitar, and soon he was playing the bass, and wanted to jam. So there was Dave, Camille and myself-we could make some noise. One day I bought a new guitar, and the very next Day when Davo was over, he played the guitar, and set it back in its stand. It promptly feel over off the stand, and got a nick in the neck. He felt terrible. He asked me if he could get the neck fixed. I told him don't worry about it, it will make a good story, and everytime I saw it I would think of him.
One day when Dave came over to play he saw my kayaks in my yard, he says, "I want to do that". I said when, and he said tomorrow. The next day, and he was ready, we were off to the river. He had this old duct taped up jagged edged torn up wet suite and cap. I just laughed when he put it on. Next he started to get in one of my boats. Now you have to know, that at this time I weighed about 135 pound when wet, and Davo, well, he didn't. I also like my boat to fit tight. So he starts to squeeze into the boat, I'm actually pushing down on his shoulder trying to help push past the hips pads. He's having to wiggling back and forth, and up and down for about a minute to get in. I can see it now! Anyway, now I start thinking about him being about to get out if he flips, but I'm not that worried, I figured he'll kinda fall out if he flips. Which he did about 2 minutes later. He loved kayaking from the moment he got into the boat, or flip into the water. These two events happened very close to each other. By the time he finishes the run his legs have lost all feeling from the blood being cut off at the hips. He rolls out of the boat, and has to wait for the blood to start circulating before he can move. We would spend time at the Arcata pool on kayak nights working on combat roll and other basics. Then we would hit the rivers. Rivers in California, rivers in Oregon, we were boaters. Sleeping on the floor and couches, driving 5 hours to boat. Now Davo could take a river thrashing like no one else. As he said to me, when you surf you basically get trashed all the time, when you kayak, you only get thrashed a couple of times. If there was a place on the river I didn't want to be, so as to not get trashed, that's where Davo would be. It was like a magnet. I will never forget his first high water (flooding) river trip in the canyon of the Van Duzen. I gave him the required training. This consisted of telling him- now you have to turn your boat on the crest of the waves, don't get in a hole, and if you swim I will be right next to you. There we are on the river, huge waves, large hydraulics. Up ahead from the crest of the waves I saw an almost river wide ledge. I didn't want to be there, but remember the Davo magnet. He went over the ledge, started getting cartwheeled, but he stayed in his boat. He kept trying to roll up. If he hadn't kept trying to roll, I would have thought something was wrong. Because he kept rolling I knew he was OK. Finally he had to get out of the boat, so just like I promised I was right next to him the whole way down the river, about 2 more miles. There was no way to stop or get him to the side. So I would give him scouting reports, hey look out there's another rapid coming up, try to go left. Finally we get to better water and I get him out. He wasn't phased! Just another day on the River. We boated so much, that very soon he started getting better, he could stay in a boat under the water longer than anyone I knew. He was very relaxed at boating as with all things. That was one of the lessons Davo was to teach me, chill out. Soon Davo had some friends boating also, and we had a group. There was Dave, Davo, Dana, Liz, and myself. This is when Dave Witherspoon announces to me that he is to be called Davo. As to avoid the confusion with the other Dave. I just looked him and said what! Your kidding right, like Devo, but Davo, how do spell that? The group boated together quite awhile, and now he was turning me onto other rivers. He took down the Salmon and Umpqua for the first time.
We looked like Laurel and Hardy together, and culturally, well he was a California hippie and I came from the south, not southern California, the south. On our trips to the rivers we would talk, and listen to his radio show from the week before. We did lots of river trips, lots of wine, lots of music, and well, scrabble. Davo was the only person to ever tell me a word that my wife could not define. He loved that scrabble. He told me once after playing scrabble, that he knew all the three letter words in the English language. I looked him, and asked why. Remember, I'm from the south. One fourth of July we had a party, and Davo was to bring the turkey. He did, but it was frozen, he had forgot to take it out of the freezer, but he also brought the wine. So, all was well. Life was always an adventure with Davo. Reggae on the River. Stopping on Saturday night on the way back from the river, and topping off the wine barrels, now that was living.
As the title of this post says, "Those were the days". Somewhere in there I had to deal with some legal issues, and moved to Arcata to join the world. I started an engineering business. We still boated a lot, but not living in southern Humboldt we didn't spend as much time together. Davo would stay at my apartment in Arcata, and we would play music. I even did engineering for Davo on some straw bale houses, and even on the radio station.
There were times we had cried on each others shoulders, talked engineering, philosophy, you name it. Some how we drifted apart, kinda of like you would see in a movie. I didn't get a chance to say good bye to someone I spent a lot of good times with. As I write this I realize that there are other people that I have lost contact with. Maybe Davo's last lesson for me, will be to make some contact with some old friends.
In closing I will share with you a story I always use to describe Davo to people who have never met him. We were boating, and while we were on the river someone broke into his truck, and stole everything. When we discover this, I'm jumpin up and down, mad as can be wanting to find them, and Davo says to me in John Lennon like manner. "Those people must have needed all those things worse than me". In form with the true Buddhist spirit, there was never a moment of anger.
You never know what you have until you lose it.
Davo I miss you, but I will always remember you.

Daveau's last picture

2006-01-09T20:03:00.000-08:00

My radio show, Rant and Rave, was Daveau's last KMUD engineering gig. I took this pic while waiting to go on air. Before we went on I asked him if he would mind being part of the conversation during the show, and would he comment on the samples of the Sounds of War I wanted him to play. He was sharp and funny. I thought we would have many more opportunities to develope our repartee'. I LOVED HIM, HE LAUGHED AT MY JOKES.

Anna

Daveau's Memorial- Saturday 1 pm Mateel, Redway

2006-01-09T19:51:00.000-08:00

The formal memorial celebrating Daveau's life will be held this Saturday, January 14th at the Mateel Community Center in Redway. The celebration will begin at 1:00pm and a prayer circle will follow around 2:00.

Musicians are encouraged to bring their instruments, others to bring photos, memories, stories and good food and drink to share. This is a potluck in the true Daveau fashion.

There will also most likely be a bonfire and celebration down at Redway beach after the memorial for those who are interested.

To Dr. & Mrs. WItherspoon

2006-01-09T19:48:00.000-08:00

Dear Dr. Paul and Mrs. Elizabeth Witherspoon,
A mutual friend in Redway emailed me the tragic news of your son David's untimely departure from our world. I am so very sorry for your loss.
You may not remember me, but I stayed in your home with David on one or two occasions. One time we were on our way to go rafting with your son-in-law and grand nephew, a trip on the American River. Another time we visited Claire and family in Santa Cruz together. Both times I was looking for a job and/or giving a presentation at a conference, as I recall. David was a very supportive friend.
Dr. Witherspoon, you and I, we talked about LBL. I got my degree in Geology from UCB. We dropped some names, told stories about STRIPA, Garnis Curtis, and you shared your books with me. We of course drank some good wine.
David was my latest landlord in Redway, and we remained good friends after we were no longer dating one another. I moved from Redway to Ashland Oregon nearly two years ago. Since then I have not been in contact with David, but I did see him at a concert shortly after I moved.
As you know, he is known as Daveau in SoHum, a good friend to many many folks there. He was always generous, highly principled about sharing and equity. His love of the rivers and music and mellow parties is legendary. I miss Daveau like no other of my old friends in SoHum, and now, well, many memories live on.
Please do take very good care of you and yours. I hope that you are all very well, and weather this tragic occurrence as best you are able. I remember you very fondly, for welcoming me, as David's friend, into your home, sharing stories. I enjoyed very much the company of your daughter and the Doctor, including a wonderful dinner party at their home.
I wish I could offer more than condolences, but alas I am far from you and from David's homes. If you think of something, you let me know. This is not the way I would have for you to start a new year. My heart aches for your loss, our loss, our community's loss, our culture's loss. David contributed much, even in his unconventional ways, his rebellious lifestyle, and I know that you are proud of him too. I am blessed to have shared many good memories with Daveau. I still have some gifts he gave me, and I wear a necklace, and I sit upon a rug today to send you warm wishes in your time of mourning.
with respect and sympathy,
jude

Here's looking at you kid.

2006-01-09T15:23:00.000-08:00

from traci "mama bear"

2006-01-09T14:55:00.000-08:00

I was walking out my door to go to breakfast with Jama and Richard Saturday morning when I heard the sirens. Living within a block of the fire station and hospital, I often hear the sirens and I always send up a prayer to go with them.

This time was different. I felt a sudden stab of panic. I sent up the usual prayer but that moment of panic is cemented in my memory because I felt those roots being pulled out. Daveau was the roots. He was a major foundation and factor for stability in our community.

It was the support of Daveau and other community foundations like him that brought me here to live and allowed me to do my work. His welcome and enthusiasm for helping out were an insurance policy. One that gave me and many others the safety net to forge forward doing community and environmental work. Because if we needed something that might have cost us

he would be there to provide that service.

I was talking to Daveau and getting stuff for him as he installed the solar panel up on the roof of the EPIC booth at Reggae. He hammered his thumb and did a really comical dance almost falling off the roof backwards. Scared me pretty good but my heart swelled with appreciation for him.

Every root that he extended added strength. Comic relief, muscles, a big truck, an open heart, a willingness, something to dance to, and a heady ecstasy (love infused wine) were some of the gifts he gave to me and that I will miss desperately.

I will be thinking about and praying for a healing for all of us. Like a plant that loses some of it's roots, we are experiencing real shock. I am feeling a little scared too. A little less secure. Until our roots heal, I think that many of us will be feeling a little bit vulnerable.

Yes, he was our Bacchus, a God of provision, protection, comfort and fun.

A real "Roots Man".

I love you Daveau.

Traci "Mama Bear"

2006-01-09T14:13:00.000-08:00

Halloween at Nadine's 2004

2006-01-09T13:32:00.000-08:00

A twinkle in the eye from Daveau Nov 2004

2006-01-09T13:29:00.000-08:00

from charlotte

2006-01-09T11:42:00.000-08:00

After reading all these wonderful words about the wonderful man Daveau and all of his good deeds, and after the passing of Nick Larue, only one thing come to mind:
PLEASE SLOW DOWN ON THE ROADS!
Enjoy the drive--- slow down!
It’s OK to get there a few minutes later. I would rather my friends get to where they are going in good health than not.

Love to you all,

Charlotte

from michelle

2006-01-09T11:33:00.000-08:00

Daveau...I cried and cried when I heard the news on KMUD.

You are an amazing spirit that I loved to see out and about-you give the best bear hugs. And that wine! Mmmm...always selflessly providing good spirits to benefits/non profit events/charitable causes by the case in the form of your special burgundy.

You threw me a line when no one else was willing to take a chance on the new young real estate agent in town! You were my first Real Estate client back in 2000, allowing me to help you with your Real Estate transaction meant the world to me, when other friends in our community were not willing/able to support me. Thank you Thank you Thank you! You actually put bread and butter on my table.

You saw me for who I was and had faith in me, always respected me and never doubted me. Blessings! Love! Light! I will see you on the other side, I can't wait for my next Daveau Hug and sip of red wine!

Michelle Welty

Posting for Terri Freedman

2006-01-09T10:54:00.000-08:00

This is Terri Freedman, and I am currently residing in Sonoma County. Dave and I were married in the mid-70's-early 80's. We lived together in the Bay Area and Southern Humboldt (in Crooked Prairie/Ettersburg, a lovely community). I had not been in touch with David for the past several years, with the exception of a dinner in Arcata in November 1998...Since then, I attempted to contact him a few times, but without much success. I was always happy to know he was working with KMUD during these times, although I never did hear his show. (Is there any way I might be able to borrow or copy some tapes of his shows?)

Anyway, I was shocked this evening to read an email just by chance announcing Dave's passing yesterday. I am so touched to read all these words, these sentiments for him, on the KMUD site, and I'm happy that he is loved and appreciated so much in his community.

from kevin

2006-01-09T09:48:00.001-08:00

Dearest friends--

After hearing this most terrible news last night, it's been so good to see the stories and memories and reflections pouring out of that huge circle of people lucky enough to have known Daveau (Tracy, thanks for putting up the blog). He wasn't exactly larger than life, just as large as life itself--just the kind of audacious, gentle, challenging, true soul who inspires the best kind of friendship and the most enduring memories. I've spent this day grieving and so angry, feeling far away from so many of those with whom I want to be talking and sharing the wine and stories, but I've also had occasion to smile and laugh out loud at the memories.Like the time I was sitting in the ratty chair on the porch of the upstairs cabin at the compound, shortly after moving in... Daveau walked up, sat down on the steps, and said, "Kevin, I'm letting the place go to shit. But if I didn't, I'd have to raise the rent, and you wouldn't want that, would you?" (Fiona reminded me today that the landlord-tenant relationship wasn't always rosy... there was the time Daveau walked up to the upper parking lot with a stick in each hand, banging them together alternately and saying "Landlord!" "Tenant!" with each whack.) Daveau always made it plain where he was coming from, and he really was making it possible for so many underpaid and non-paid activists to do the work we needed to do and that he needed us to do. No, I didn't want him to raise the rent, and who really cared that there were holes in the linoleum anyway?

All that Saturday afternoon KMUD cacophony, those early evenings when he'd walk across the parking lot with a bottle of wine and I'd make us some dinner, the punk shows at the Grotto that always seemed to end with a dozen folks from all over sleeping on floors at the compound, his completely hardcore habit of shaving without water or cream using a dull disposable razor, the all-night "wine tasting" that my brother still talks about with something approaching awe, Lake

Witherspoon, the Eel and the Klamath and the weddings and the parties and the benefits and the good true glow of his irascibly genuine soul...

Fiona and I spent a couple of hours at Ocean Beach today. I brought along a half-bottle of the '94 cab that I'd been saving for a "special occasion" for several years now. How cruel that this had to be the occasion--and yet I guess there'll never be a more appropriate one. We poured some on the sand, libations for our Bacchus.

I really loved that man. I miss him. I'm so pissed that he's gone.

My thoughts and love are with all of you.

Kevin

from rick

2006-01-09T09:48:00.000-08:00

soo sad. he was a lovely old crusty who i admired. a real comunitarian. an american. he will be missed.

more thoughts for honoring

2006-01-09T08:06:00.000-08:00

good morning family...
i am in a bit of a bind as i can receive email, but not send, so thank you very much to tracy for creating this!!!
one other conversation about ways to celebrate deveau's life which happened yesterday centered around doing another river ceremony in SoHum...maybe redway beach...next weekend (1/14). the loose conversation ran around the notion of building a living raft, decorating it and sending it downstream.
also, i am in contact with dave/KMUD. we should know by the end of today when the date of the larger ceremony will be...dave and i talked about putting together a small coordinating cmte. daveau had such a broad range of communities (rafting, KMUD, enviros, musicians etc). we would like to weave them all together to honor the whole person we all loved, and to include all of us who are grieving. any thoughts on this are appreciated.
in peace, love and laughter,
four

Memorial for Daveau

2006-01-08T20:00:00.000-08:00

Hello all,

Sadly, details regarding a formal memorial for Daveau should be forthcoming sometime tomorrow. It appears it will be at the Matteel Community Center rather than Beginnings due to the rather large number of people who know and love Daveau and due to the potential for rain. His family will most likely be having a funeral and small gathering in Berkeley this coming weekend and requested that the memorial up here be held sometime afterward, possibly the following weekend ( two weekends away). Others have talked about doing a smaller So. Hum gathering sooner. Let's stay in touch with each other and stay tuned to KMUD for more information.

This afternoon friends of Daveau currently living in the No. Humboldt area Greta, Tracy, Maura, Nancie Fourwaters, Tryphena and riverguide punkrockers Nuns w/Guns Joe and Becca, animal friends Sampson and Delilah and little man Walker Owen all gathered on the Eel River near the Fernbridge area today in honor of our dear friend.

An altar was created of river rocks, driftwood, candles, drumsticks, and red wine (of course). Laughter and tears, stories, food and wine were shared (including dumpstered smoked salmon). Auspiciously, 3 kayakers were there and launched into the river shortly after we arrived. Tryphena stripped down and plunged into the river for all of us, shouting out to Daveau, circling in the water and sharing wine with him and the river spirits, and in general giving thanks for his life, our friendship and the community we all share.

We also all figured out that Daveau was not only an Aries, but born in the Chinese Year of the Rat, which we all felt made sense. Daveau was a river rat, a wood rat and a pack rat amongst other things.....

We are still somewhat in shock and in awe of how strongly Daveau touched all of our lives and how he is now gone. There was a beautiful sunset over Humboldt bay that we enjoyed on the way home and which seemed to say it all....

WE LOVE YOU DAVEAU and will miss you our rough and rowdy dear friend!

Below is a poem which poured out about the Character we all had the good fortune to know and love.A rogue of the best sort, may his spirit always be free.

in love, Tryphena

a toast from mickey

2006-01-08T19:02:00.000-08:00

raise your glasses, full with wine, Daveau's favorite color. And toast to the wild in each one of us... toast to that we don't understand... toast to Daveau, White Water Ambassador... and all the goodness he brought with him. A good man, a legend in his own time ...

with love from the arizona desert...

mickey and samba

eel memorial today

2006-01-08T18:58:00.000-08:00

hi friends,
a few of us gathered along the eel this afternoon at fernbridge and shared wine, stories, and food in memory of daveau. here are photos of the alters at the river's edge.

We've Lost a Great One- Daveau Witherspoon

2006-01-08T18:54:00.000-08:00

From Local Solutions:

Dear Friends of the Community:

Yesterday morning one of our dearest brothers and comrades was killed in a senseless car accident in SoHum. Daveau Witherspoon brought us so much light and life and donated wine to every progressive event and celebration. He will truly be missed.

from joe

2006-01-08T18:42:00.000-08:00

Sorry to hear about Dave Witherspoon. His death makes me feel sad about the whole state of the world. Another loss. Our wars. Our environment. Our government. Our friends. Hard to keep the faith when that pile keeps getting larger and larger. And the death of David punctuates it even more. I know I’m supposed to feel the joy of life. And give thanks for every minute of it after an event like this. Maybe I will later. But for now I don’t. He was quite a character. We all are. I think what it really shows me is to give thanks for our own extended family even more. As crazy as we all are, we are a close and caring community. A tiny island in a churning sea. I miss you David.

Peace

joe

middle fork salmon 97

2006-01-08T18:33:00.000-08:00

this is true daveau.
at the hotspring shower
on the middle fork.

more photos from kim

2006-01-08T18:32:00.000-08:00

Ode to Daveau - Tryphena

2006-01-08T18:29:00.000-08:00

Hello all.....

We have lost a true friend indeed.
Below is a poem which poured out about the character we all had the good fortune to know and love.

Ode to Daveau

Daveau, Daveau
Where did you go
You left us here
with no Chauteau
We wish you didn't
have to go
We really did love you so
Rolling down those rivers
you loved to flow
You were a crazy ol' punker
wouldn't you know
Your style was always funny and unique; suspenders,
hat on your head, a poncho and chaco's on your feet
Smart and beautiful women
to you they were drawn
A certain special mojo,
your charm it was strong

Daveau, Daveau
You crazy Aries guy
wild and spontaneous
a free spirit by and by
stubborn and argumentative
but quick to let it pass by
It was hard to stay mad at you
With your deep belly laughs

Loyal, witty and humorous
You were a true friend indeed
Always willing to lend a hand
To anyone in need
Generous in time, wine and heart
These many qualities set you apart
A visionary with a love for community and the land
Alternative building, KMUD and the non-profits for which you cared
With all of us, your SELF you always shared

A slum lord with a heart of pure gold
Housing for those in need
Was a part of your creed
And when it was time for dinner
You would always appear
Bringing a bottle of red wine and good cheer
Garlic in olive oil and a loaf of bread
You made great homemade pesto
I wish you weren't dead

Your love for Jamaica
was deep and true
And somehow she always managed
to come back to you

The ending of an era
and a truly special guy
Our community will miss you
And can never replace
The hole that you leave
And the smile on your face

You were a giant gentle guy
David P. Witherspoon
a true gentleman as your name suggests
Daveau our friend
You were one of the best

We will miss you
We will miss you
We will miss you

Dave "Daveau" Witherspoon in Memorium - Darryl

2006-01-08T18:28:00.000-08:00

Friends,

This Saturday, January 7, another friend, activist and lover of life has been taken from us by forces that we don't always understand. David Witherspoon--a/k/a Daveau, Davo--ceaseless maker of organic wine for all activist functions, friend to dogs, hippy slumlord, bio-diesel co-op king is with us no more in body.

His recent move to Laytonville put him on the highway one too many times, commuting back and forth to and from KMUD where he programmed; and to Southern Humboldt, in general, where he spent much time. I ran the bars of Burning Man with Davo. We all drank his wine which he gave freely by the boxes, for which I presented him with a plaque of Bacchus, made by Oberon, high priest of the Church of All Worlds. No one deserved it more.

Dave Witherspoon, big man in body, heart, mind and spirit, it is all just sinking in. And as it does the questions come. Why? Did you choose to leave during these tumultuous times? Or are those who are the irreplaceable rivets in our collective body human being pulled from us by forces unseen? Or is it just that we need to drive less, live close to home and curse even our biodiesel cars--vehicles that have been foisted upon us without our consent 100 years ago and then insinuated into our consciousness so fully that we now dream of bigger and better and even more ecological groovy ones. We'll get to where we're going faster by walking in the end.

Davo, Daveau, Dave Witherspoon. You are still here speaking to us. I can hear you say it's OK, life happens, death happens. We fuck up. We move on. But, like Red, the Mayor of Redway, John Maurer the ex-patrioted PL Millworker, and all the others we've lost this year, we will not get on the same without you. Ever. But we will get on. Some say that all are replaceable. That is not true. We simply do things differently. And that's OK. But it's not OK when the highway takes yet another beloved and loving soul--a soul who gave far more than he took, who left life better when he departed than when he came. That is the true meaning of a true environmentalist. And a true human being.

Fly high, Dave. I raise a toast to you. And drink a bottle of wine. It is not your wine Davo. It can never be replaced. But you'd approve anyway. Salut!, old friend.

Love,

Darryl

Kimba's potdaveau

2006-01-08T18:27:00.000-08:00

You could count on Daveau Witherspoon. He picked up the heavy end without being asked to do it.

Yesterday I waved to him as I drove by as he was working on his truck. Later in the day a friend came to my house to tell me that DW was killed by an out of control driver on the wrong side of a 4 lane highway.

Daveau lived in these SoHum hills for 30 years. He helped to build a lot of our homes, was a radio dj, made great wine, played a mean bass guitar, and was a really rewarding person to know. I am richer for having known him, and proud to have had him as my friend. He was a really well loved guy and he will definitely be missed.

Dave was 57 years old. He was one hell of a fun guy.

We never know when someone we care about will die or be killed. Make sure that the people you hold dear to your heart know it.

We loved you Daveau. Rest in peace.

Kim

Re: Daveau in Memory - Kathy

2006-01-08T18:25:00.000-08:00

Nice epitaph, FiFi--hard to improve upon that. I can only say that I will always be personally grateful for all he did to pioneer my straw bale home, construct a funky greenhouse, enhance all parties, and leave his inimitable imprint in my walls and heart. It ended all too soon. May he always surf the frontiers of weird music and disjointed surfaces and higher-than-average-proof vino. Memorable quotes: "But it's crooked, Daveau..." "Let's just nail it and call it a fascia board." AND "I'm better at tearing things down than putting them together." We love you, Daveau. Rock on in the beyond. You always did make me laugh and cry at the same time. --Kathy G.

Daveau in Memory - Fiona

2006-01-08T18:21:00.000-08:00

To all with love, share this:

in memory: the man who provided countless cases to all causes green and otherwise, odd landlordisms, lovely building skills; the man who made shorts and a blazer a fashion must; one with tremendously good luck [and generosity] in winemaking, land-lording, building and dogs...one who made a survival on wine, bread and cheese; our own personal Bacchus; one who brought a new meaning to seals and clubs; the most respectable punk rock dj...and countless more wonderful things...

in memorium...Daveau Witherspoon, a man whose puddle became a lake.

with love.

[Please add/delete/and above all else, pass on]

Let it grow...

Welcome Daveau's Loving Community

2006-01-08T18:11:00.000-08:00

Dear Friends,
We lost a giant this weekend. He was our Bacchus. Please share your stories and photos of Daveau here for us all to enjoy, and remember this great guy.
Love,
Tracy