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New Sidecar Smartphone App Sends Traditional Ride Sharing Skidding Sideways

I may never ride another taxi again. We’ve all experienced it. Gone are the days of the jovial Cabbie, “So where are you folks from?” Eager to welcome visitors to his city, or enthusiastically pointing out the best the city has to offer. Extinct: Apparently any conversation whatsoever, now replaced by a white-knuckle death race with a seemingly angry person at the wheel. Nothing against angry people who drive cabs, this has just consistently been my own experience.

Enter SideCar: The ride sharing app for your smartphone that is about to change all of that. 

Imagine this—you tap an app, choose your pickup location like you would choose any point on Google maps. Then you choose your destination. Then you tap the button to request a ride. Next, imagine the app confirms your ride and informs you that “Michelle” will be there in her neat and tidy silver Honda Civic in six minutes.

Well stop imagining it, because that is exactly how the SideCar app works.

To test it out for this article I signed up for the service with the usual login password or using one of my social media logins, accompanied by a credit card to pay with. In fact a “Michelle” picked me up in her neat and tidy silver Honda Civic, and we had a great conversation as she calmly and accurately navigated our way through the busy morning traffic of San Francisco on a beautiful warm day.

Yes! We actually chatted!

The Valhallan promise of Social Media applications had always been that it would lead to real social interactions and real friendships. The problem seems to have been getting out of the house. SideCar may have unintentionally solved this dilemma, because with SideCar, after you submit a new friend request, six minutes later he/she’s waiting for you, outside your door! How cool is that? Ok so I may be overstating all of this a bit, but not much. And it certainly doesn’t feel like that didn’t happen in my ride with Michelle.

But here’s how it really works. SideCar is one of the new Ride Sharing models being explored in the app-sphere these days. You’ve heard about it, no doubt. Ride sharing is different than car sharing however, and possibly cooler, depending on what you consider “cool.” Having tried both, I now know what I prefer.

Car sharing, like those white with the wild blue stripes, Car-2-Go Smart cars (a Mercedes venture), or the nondescript Zip-Cars (recently bought out by Hertz) are large company-backed fleets of vehicles bought with the express purpose of sitting around doing mostly nothing, waiting for someone to rent one. I know, where’s the Green in that? Don’t answer that; it’s a loaded. rhetorical question.

Ride Sharing is different. There is no fleet, so no buying yet more cars to put on (or park on the side of) the road. Using existing cars with qualified and hand picked drivers, Ride Sharing networks all of it with riders looking for rides to share. As the rider, you can use SideCar by yourself or as a group. You pay the same suggested fare. I can think of using SideCar as an ideal solution for carpools.

Other players in this space, Lyft and Über, do pretty much the same thing, but I think SideCar simply does it better. It could be the app, because the simple beauty of the thing and its great design, portend a lot more that is obviously happening underneath.

SideCar is that perennial “San Francisco startup cliche.” You’ve seen it in numerous films by now. A couple of big rooms, and a roof garden, taking over the top three floors of a small brick building on Pine street, a giant faded poster of “Attack of the 50 Foot Woman” on the back wall, a couch-lounge in the center, large shared tables lined with developers, writers, social media marketers, head-phoned heads bobbing, group collaborating. No suits, no ties, no cubicles, no plastic, no MadMen—this is how it’s done these days.

SideCar started in San Francisco in March 2012, and now covers 10 major cities in the US and is expanding.

Besides developing a great Rider app, most of the effort actually goes into managing the drivers who get their own Driver app, and are carefully screened and selected to properly present the exact SideCar experience. SideCar focuses on care and attention to detail, and while all of that sounds obvious, it is what most others miss.

Drivers with a four door car (I know, I was hoping for a convertible too) apply to become a SideCar driver, and after a background check and insurance, and other points of qualification, are invited to attend a real instructor-led SideCar University, where they actually meet face to face with a SideCar “Community Manager” (no, seriously). They are then coached, groomed and trained on how to provide the very best service and experience to the riders.

When I say Community, I mean exactly that. Drivers in each metro are added to a Facebook group where the SideCar community managers can stay in touch with them, hold regular discussions, and the drivers can share feedback and make suggestions to help make the service better. Like recommending the best mechanic, finding the cheapest gas station, or suggesting hot spots or, more importantly, places to avoid. They even meet for real get-togethers. Almost makes you want to become a SideCar driver!

As a rider, the experience is nothing short of luxurious, without the guilt. There is something both socially and environmentally responsible about knowing you are using existing resources in a mutually beneficial way. And it’s far cheaper!

SideCar uses a proprietary algorithm that considers things like distance, the local price of gas, and even current traffic conditions to estimate a “Suggested Fare” which you can bump up or down at your discretion, get this, after you get off. You don’t pay the driver. SideCar does.

After a 20% fee off the top, the remaining 80% of what you felt your ride was worth, is deposited into the Driver’s account. The driver determines when to drop it into his bank from the, you guessed it, Driver app.

The Driver app is an even simpler app equally elegant as the Rider version, designed specifically to minimize driver interaction, for safety, and to make accepting and confirming pickups and bank transfers and a couple of other things, as minimal as possible. Again, for Safety. It’s one of those rare occasions in software development, where everything makes sense, and is so simple that it just works really well.

There well may be many obvious seemingly insurmountable obstacles yet to overcome before the SideCar promise of RideSharing can be fully achieved. How this new paradigm will fit into the City hall, Taxi Cab Concessions, Taxi Unions, public acceptance, and the whole sphere of how fare-based transportation used to work, is anyone’s guess at this time.

But in a day and age of hybrid and electric cars and solar panels on the verge of energy independence from fossil fuels, I’m not sure there is anymore room for a curbful of badly aging yellow cars, engines running, lined up, drivers slap tickling each other, waiting for passengers to merely walk by.

But like I said at the beginning, I may never ride another taxi again.

Is it just me, or does it feel like good old fashion Rock and Roll has died out somewhat? It may be just a generational thing, now that I’ve reached AARP status, but watching the movie (based on the play) Rock of Ages recently, I started to wonder: Where have all the rock bands gone? It’s not that I don’t like and appreciate today’s contemporary music (Justin Timberlake, Pitbull, Kelly Clarkson, Jay Z, Beyonce and Lady Gaga), because I do, but it seems like the days of stadium playing rock bands have gone the way of albums, 8-Track and cassette tapes.

In the early 1970s, my older teenage sisters were listening to bands like the Beatles, Rolling Stones and The Who, whose music could be heard blaring from their rooms night and day. They bought 45s and albums at Tower Records and carried around a portable record player or used the family stereo. I loved ease dropping on their music (and personal conversations). By the time I started middle school, in the mid 1970’s, acts like Elton John, Peter Frampton, Wings and Chicago were getting heavy rotation on KFRC. Popular DJ, Doctor Don Rose, may not have been a medical doctor, but he had the right prescription for teenage “Rock fever.”

During my high school years (1976-1980), Disco had crept into our culture. During that period, the Bee Gees and Donna Summer were everywhere, but we all knew disco wouldn’t last. Not while bands such as the Eagles, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Aerosmith, Bad Company, Supertramp, Fleetwood Mac, Judas Priest, YES, Jethro Tull, The Pretenders, and Santana were still getting air play on Bay Area FM radio stations KOME, KSFO and KFOG. Up and comers like Pat Travers, Montrose, UFO and Triumph were lesser known, but still did a great job as an opening acts.

My first concert was in the winter of 1977 at the Cow Palace in Daly City. For $8.00, my buddies and I got to watch Foghat, Eddie Money and No Dice (who was no good) shake the rafters of what was essentially a glorified 4H and rodeo venue. My next concert was Kiss and April Wine a few months later. — Chris F., Age 52.

I attended both of those concerts with Chris. We would sit in the seats during the opening acts and then work our way through the crowd on the floor to get as close to the stage as we could for the headliners. It was easier if you didn’t mind a girl sitting on your shoulders. And we didn’t mind at all. — Tom C. Age 51.

The Cow Palace drew all the big name acts before there were amphitheaters, pavilions and arenas with corporate naming rights. Other big venues at the time were the Oakland/Alameda County Coliseum, The San Jose Civic auditorium, and occasionally, Buck Shaw Stadium in Santa Clara. San Francisco clubs such as Winterland, The Filmore, The Stone and the Kabuki Theater, along with The Keystone in Berkeley and Palo Alto, were energetic places to see up and coming local bands such as Y&T, 415 (featuring Eric Martin), Shooting Star, The Tubes (featuring Fee Waybill), HUSH (featuring Robert Berry), Pablo Cruise and The Greg Kihn Band, as they built up their fan base and fine tuned their stage shows.

Playing the Keystone in Palo Alto and some of the other clubs was a great ride. There’s nothing like live music for the energy. The connection for the audience and the band is a great experience. Eddie Toro – former member of Nightflight and RPM.

As we broke into the decade of the 80s, the “Hair” bands, including Journey, Foreigner, Styx, REO Speedwagon, Van Halen, Boston, Queen, Kansas, The Babys, Scorpions, Cheap Trick , Electric Light Orchrestra (ELO), 38 Special and AC/DC joined established acts such as Genesis, Thin Lizzy, Rush, the Doobie Brothers, ZZ Top, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers and Lynyrd Skynyrd, on the concert scene. It was not uncommon for all of these bands to sell over one million albums when a new album was released and their concerts sold out within minutes.

When I entered college, MTV was just taking off. This made bands like Def Leppard, Jefferson Starship (Formerly Jefferson Airplane), Whitesnake, Motley Crew, Loverboy, The Cars, Bon Jovi , Night Ranger, Damn Yankees, Asia, Europe, Aldo Nova and The J. Giles Band become bon-a-fide “Rock Stars,” thanks to their music videos. Guys like me longed to be a bad ass rocker like Sammy Hagar, Ted Nugent or Billy Squire.

The predominately Los Angeles-based “Glam” bands that became popular toward the mid-1980s, just didn’t do it for me. Groups like Ratt, Warrant, Quiet Riot, Dokken, Poison, Cinderella or Twisted Sister certainly were big at the time, but they relied more on Glamour than substance. The one exception was Guns and Roses. Their original line-up didn’t stay together long, but in their prime they were exceptional. I also was never into the “Speed or Thrash metal” bands like Megadeath, Tool, Slayer, Anthrax or Exodus. Again, the exception being Metallica because they were a Bay Area band and I’ve met James Hatfield.

Although a fan of Pat Benatar and Heart, which was led by Ann and Nancy Wilson, I never got into the all-girl bands such as The Go-Go’s, The Bangles, the Runaways or Joan Jett and the Blackhawks. It’s nothing sexist, but girl bands just lacked a sense of vicarious groupie-envy that the guys possessed. Finally, rock’s “grunge” bands never drew me in either. During the late 1980s/early 90s, Pearl Jam, Stone Temple Pilots and Nirvana were huge, but their lyrics and melodies were too dark and moody for my tastes. I want my music to have some passion; some energy; some “balls.”

Recently, my daughters have seen acts including Justin Bieber, Rihanna, Bruno Mars, Katy Perry and Kenny Chesney. My wife and I actually took them to see Pink. These are seasoned performers who put on good shows. (They should when tickets cost anywhere from $75.00 to $100.00 and they gouge their fans for $40.00 t-shirts.)

Back in the day, the hottest ticket in town was to a Bill Graham Presents Day on the Green. Tickets were usually $15.00 to $20.00 each, and t-Shirts or tank tops could be bought for ten bucks.

My first concert was a Day on the Green in 1979. The line-up was Ted Nugent, Aerosmith, AC/DC and Mahogany Rush. There parking lot was full by 8:00 am even though they didn’t open the gates for festival seating until twelve. I was 15 years old and it was an epic experience. — Mark D., age 49.

Oh sure, you can say point to U2, Bruce Springsteen, Nickelback, Green Day, Metallica as “rock music,” but they’re all getting up there in age. It’s not like we have a lot of up-and-coming bands to carry on the rock legacy. I personally don’t think a line-up that includes Fall Out Boy, Good Charlotte, 30 Seconds to Mars and Scarlet Machine will ever be on the bill of a revamped Monsters of Rock tour.

Like everything, music has its cycles. This generation’s musical tastes are too eclectic with the emergence of big name DJs, house music and electronic dance music. Personally, I miss the days of the arena rock bands battling it out for rock supremacy. Rock on!

Don’t miss a chance to visit the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, Ohio. My wife and I had a chance to go and it’s a pilgrimage to Mecca for any true rock fan. Over 150,000 sq. ft. of exhibits, memorabilia and concert footage spread over six floors. It is  truly awesome.

The wind suddenly backed the staysail and forced the bow of Alma further to port. Bill tried to bring her head into the wind, but it was impossible without steerageway. At that moment, Ed finally loosened the sheet and untied it from the cleat. As the line slipped through his fingers he looked back around and saw the Commodore moving across the foredeck. “WATCH OUT,” Ed screamed, as the staysail flopped over.

The sail and boom hit Father square on the chest and launched him backward across the foredeck. “Dad?” Ed said as he crawled over to the Commodore. He had to keep low with the boom of the sail swinging uncontrollably overhead. “Dad?” Ed touched his father’s face.

The Commodore opened his eyes, but they seemed vacant. “Uhh…” Dad groaned. A moment later, he began to focus on his son.

“Dad! Are you okay?”

The Commodore looked at the sail, flapping overhead with the sound of a freight train. He sat partway up for a moment, and then dropped back to the deck. Their eyes met. Dad swallowed once, hard. He thought about how his sons had been returned to the ark in disgrace, and that having them work on the scow was supposed to be punishment. But his oldest would have to face his own trial of manhood right now; there was no other choice.

“Get her… moving,” the Commodore said in a weak, halting voice. He looked at his son with a hollow stare, “You are in charge…” His voice trailed off. “Just keep her… moving.”

Ed hesitated for a moment; there was no way he could leave his father like this. “Dad?”

“Alma comes first,” Dad ordered. “Go to zee helm.”

 

It’s springtime in 1908, the beginning of the 20^th Century.  San Francisco is on the rebound from the Great Quake of 1906, and amazing advances such as electricity, automobiles, and radio are emerging while, at the same time, spelling the doom of the graceful sailing ships that were the driving force of economic progress for centuries.  Brothers Ed (16), Bill (14), and Ted (12) are about to embark on the adventure of a lifetime when their father buys them a 16-foot Whitehall boat, which they christen Mermaid, and sets them loose on San Francisco Bay.  That summer, they encounter Teddy Roosevelt’s Great White Fleet; end up the target of pirates who shoot rotten fruit for cannonballs; surmount the rough seas, save the lives of new friends; and deal with the most daunting challenge of all – learning to get along.

And so begins the tale of Mermaid Sails the Bay, by Bay Area author Greg Trybull, whose own father bought a sailboat for the family when Greg was 12.  Young Trybull took to the nautical lifestyle like a fish to water, spending his teenage years (the 1970’s) sailing San Francisco Bay, where the idea for this story first took shape.

ALIVE: How would you describe Mermaid Sails the Bay?

Greg Trybull: Mermaid Sails the Bay is a historical fiction adventure that will connect today’s reader with the beginning of the twentieth century. There are numerous sites in the book, including a number with images, which can be visited today.

A: Why did you choose the beginning of the 20th Century as the temporal setting for your book?

GT: This was a transitional period in ship propulsion; sail was still economical for bulk cargos, but coal steamers had taken over much of the shipping industry, due to their regular arrival and departure times. The use of fuel oil was also rising; so all these different types of ships crowded the Bay and waterfront in every picture I’ve looked at.

A: What inspired you to write this story?

GT: My father bought a sailboat in the mid-1970’s. I was the crewman who would run up forward whenever a line hung-up or some deck-hand job needed to be done.  Around that time, my aunt in Germany sent me a book titled Swallows and Amazons.  It’s a fictional adventure about kids who sail a small boat on a lake in England. Arthur Ransome wrote a number of stories about these characters–I believe there are 13 or14 in the series. I was hooked – for years – and must have read each of those books at least a dozen times.

A: In your book, you write with amazing detail about San Francisco and the Bay as it was in 1908.  How much of Mermaid Sails the Bay is based on actual historical events and how much is fictional? 

GT: Chapters 2 and 3 describe actual historical events – the opening of the Belvedere Drawbridge to administer the exodus of the arks in the lagoon, which today marks Opening Day on the Bay, and the arrival of Teddy Roosevelt’s Great White Fleet on May 6^th.  The fictional adventure never stops once the boys sail for an island in Chapter 4.  But Mare Island, the Shortline to Paradise, and the Tavern at Tamalpais are all straight from the history books.  Having the U.S. Army in Yosemite is historical fact, but it dropped straight into the plot like a piece of a puzzle.

A: Where did you do your research?

GT: The J. Porter Shaw Maritime Library in San Francisco. I had a great amount of help from the good people who work there.  This was where I learned about the primary ships at Hyde Street – Star of Alaska (ex. Balclutha) is a square-rigged windjammer; Eureka (called Ukiah in the time of the story) is a double-ended ferry boat; C.A. Thayer is a “doghole” lumber schooner; plus Hercules and her sister ship were the first sea-going tugs to operate from the Bay (using fuel oil).

A: Tell us the story of Drake’s Plaque?

GT: It is said that the explorer Francis Drake left a plaque of brass somewhere on the shore of Drake’s Bay, to claim all this land for the queen.  Around 1936 a plaque was “found” and declared authentic before a rigorous scientific study could be performed.  After forty years the plaque was declared a forgery, apparently a good-natured student’s joke that went awry.

A: As a teenage boy sailing the Bay with your family in the 1970’s, how much of this book is autobiographical?

GT: The Dunking Derby is from my time.  It’s a Paradise Harbor tradition – sinking someone else’s small-boat on the 4^th of July.  Plus the scene of sailing in heavy weather was real.  We once anchored out overnight in Clipper Cove at Treasure Island.  The wind was howling the next day, so we waited a few hours in the hope that it would ease some. But it was summertime – on the Bay that means the wind gets even stronger in the afternoon.  So at noon we had no choice but to set out North, straight into the teeth of a near gale.  The waves were not enormous, being on the Bay, but every one of them seemed to aim right for us.  It should have been a three-hour tour to get home to Paradise Harbor.  Near the halfway mark I looked at the distant land with a cringe, because I knew the sun would go down before we could make it home.  Then another wave smashed us, throwing the bow backwards with a plume of icy spray for our faces.  Something made me peak into the cabin – I gasped at the sight of a puddle sloshing about on the floorboards. “There’s water in the cabin!” I screamed to my dad as I instinctively moved to take the wheel from him.  He launched himself down the companionway and quickly found that the knot-meter had been dislodged from below the waterline.  That was one of the scariest moments of my life – knowing the Bay was coming in, and the land was so far away.

A: Tell me about the brothers in the book.  What makes them such sympathetic, likeable characters?

GT: I don’t know… you’ll have to tell me!  I originally identified most with the middle brother, Bill.  You must understand that there was no real plot when I started, just an outline about places to go.  What drew this idea of a sailing adventure into a complete story was Cap’n Scurvy – or to be more accurate, it was the exchange between Ted and his pirate captain.  I can tell you that I did not have an imaginary friend when I was young.  I just dreamed about a ship…

A: Was your own father similar to the brothers’ father, the Commodore?

GT: Well… perhaps in small portions.  My dad did buy us an El Toro; it’s an eight-foot pram with a sail.  During the first moon landing, Dad built us a rocket with scraps from the houses going up all around us.  It even had an odometer – that rocket could go 30 mph!  It was the talk of the whole neighborhood.

A: In the excerpt above, the boys have to save the Commodore.  Was that ever your experience?

GT: It’s not that I ever had to physically save my dad; my contribution was always comments like “We’re too close,” or “We’re too close, start the engine.” My dad would laugh and call me chicken-of-the-sea, until the time we were in Martinez after bringing the boat up for a trip to the Delta. My dad decided to dry the spinnaker (a parachute sail for downwind runs) at the boat, by using a special technique that would spill the wind out of it.  But, Martinez is basically a funnel, where all the wind from the ocean pours into the central valley once the land heats up, so I reasoned, pleaded, and then begged to take the sail home for a wash and dry. Of course, Dad thought I was just being C-O-T-S, so he washed the sail and then hung it upside down, on the theory that the wind would spill, because the clews (corners) of the sail were tied together. This theory is true, provided there’s little to light wind. But we were in Martinez, in the afternoon, with the wind at small craft force (15 KPH, that’s Knots Per Hour, slightly more than MPH).

All was well for about five minutes. Then the sail began to fill and started yanking the boat in a forceful motion. My father said, “I guess you were right,” and we proceeded to drop sail. However, this was a parachute sail, that was only attached to the boat with lines, so as I let the halyard out (the line on the mast), my dad couldn’t pull the rest of it to the deck because the wind was so strong. The sail moved further away from the mast, and higher too, and started acting like a kite and pulling the boat away from the dock. I yelled, “I’m letting go,” and I released the halyard, in the hope that the sail would collapse and fall into the water. Having a clean, dry sail didn’t matter anymore; the boat was getting pounded against the dock. “We gotta cut the line,” I yelled. Dad still had hold of the sail’s sheets, so he nodded, and I ran below for the knife. I sawed on the line carefully, because I knew it would whip around the winch and tear any flesh that was in the way when it let go. Thankfully I held my face away, because when it let go I felt the end whip right past my cheek. I would have half a face these days, if I’d been any closer. Unfortunately, the halyard was part wire and part rope, and the splice caught in the block at the top of the mast. At that point the sail was whipping overhead a good fifty feet above the mast – and there was nothing we could do about it.

Thankfully, the block disintegrated under the load, the sail broke free, floated over the next pier, and slowly drifted into the water. We recovered the sail, took it home and tended it the exact way I, formerly known as chicken-of-the-sea, had suggested.

A: How would you classify Mermaid Sails the Bay, and who is your target audience?

GT: It’s been described by my editor as a Young-Adult novel, but I feel that adventurous folks of all ages will be drawn to the story.  A few people have mentioned that they’d like to see it on the suggested reading list for California high school students, since it offers so many authentic references to the history of our unique Bay Area.

A: Mermaid Sails the Bay is your first novel, and already it’s receiving high acclaim.  What’s next?

GT: Perhaps a sequel – 1914 was a good year on the Bay – and some tales about Cap’n Scurvy.  But I’ve already started something completely different, a series of short stories about… me.

Mermaid Sails the Bay is a wonderfully inviting and excruciatingly researched and accurate historical adventure, a tale of life in the Bay Area during a time of grand opportunity and no-holds-barred stomping into a future of promise.  Young adults, and those among us no matter how old who aspire for the trappings of their youth, will laugh and cry as they pull for these brothers and live vicariously through their coming-of-age journey.

Beautifully written and illustrated, Mermaid Sails the Bay is ideal for young adults with a thirst for adventure and a desire to know more about the history of the Bay Area — a perfect selection for local schools to include on their recommended reading lists.

Mermaid Sails the Bay is available at Amazon (www.amazon.com/dp/1475289979). To find out more, visit www.MermaidSailsTheBay.com.

 Illustrated by Seval Sensoy

 

 

 

 

 

The year was 1951. I was at dinner with my aunt, uncle and cousins at their home in Tahoe City. My uncle would always ask questions at dinner and each person around the table got to answer. That night he asked, “When you grow up what would you really want to be?” As a shy eight year old, I waited my turn and then said, “I want to be a leader in our tribe.”  There was a silence for what seemed a long period of time. Then my aunt asked, “What tribe?”  “The Paiute peoples,” I responded. There was another long period of silence, then she said, “Donnie, you are not an Indian.”

I played with local Indians. My aunt was an historian for the local Native Daughters of the Golden West.  I had visited the settlements of the tribe and interviewed them with my aunt for the California local history record—I even learned some of the language. Could this be true?  I was hurt, confused and upset. My uncle then gently said, “Your aunt is correct; you are Welch and Italian, not a Paiute.

Two weeks before that fateful dinner I had sold my baseball card collection to my cousin, who would grow up to be in the minor leagues. With the purchase of a  Kachina doll (Hopi) at a local trading post, my collection began.

As the years moved on and I accepted my fate as a white man, I became an avid collector of native art. I became a 5th grade teacher and used my collection for class demonstrations. I won an award for teaching Native American history from The Daughters of the American Revolution and another from my school district. Each month my collection grew and my knowledge of the true struggles of the native people grew.

When I retired from teaching I decided to take part in a local Native American Show and Sale at the Pleasanton fair grounds; this was in 1993. I became hooked on doing native art shows and Pow Wows. Here I could meet the artists, learn about art forms from pottery making to basket weaving, and sell some of my collection for a little extra cash.

In 2006, the Danville museum asked if they could visit my collection to discern the quality and authenticity of my pieces. They ended up asking me to loan them items for their Native American History display. To this day, I still help and provide artifacts for that great yearly exhibit.

In 2007 I came up with the idea of holding a local Art and Artifact show to help Native Americans have a venue for selling and demonstrating their wears. The event was held each May at the Alamo Women’s Club and became a great success. Then problems arose when the show outgrew the facility; I had to turn artists away. This defeated the purpose of helping to get their art shown and sold.

In 2012 I took a big step and moved the date of the Great Native American Art and Artifact Show to September and rented a building at the Alameda County Fair Grounds in Pleasanton. It was an immediate success and allowed many more dealers and traders to  participate.

My dream of being part of the native art world, if not an actual Native American, motivates me to help Native artists and continue to learn more about their culture.

This years’ Native American art and artifact show will be held September 28-29 at the Alameda County Fair Grounds. The show will feature some famous native artists and traders: Bud and Paula Gonzales, selling Zuni fetishes; Barbara Murphy, representing Northern California Tribes with baskets, and Debbie Martinez-Rambeau, making and selling gourds and quilts. Debbie’s work is also featured at the Gene Autry museum in Los Angeles.

This show is a great opportunity for anyone who enjoys the native culture and art.