Midnight sun fun

August 7, 2005

KATE KELLY\Frontiersman reporter

Look beyond the "Roach Motel" stand selling colorful feathered roach clips for marijuana cigarettes and you'll see an eclectic gathering of people from all over the world who simply want to "check out" to a variety of music and merriment for a few days before checking back into their real life.

Such is the pseudo-reality of the 24th annual Talkeetna Bluegrass and Music Festival at Mile 102 of the Parks Highway these past four days.

And according to the daddy of the event, "Dirty Ernie" Wheatly, it's far from being the last one, as some have speculated.

"Every year they say it's the last year, but rain or shine, bluegrass goes on forever," Wheatly said with a wink Friday as he gave Upper Susitna Seniors member Grace Callopy a hug at the seniors' festival fund-raiser snack tent. "The event has gotten a seriously bad reputation because it was pretty wild four or five years ago, but it's mellowed out since then. Even seniors who come here now are absolutely shocked at how well it's run."

As a blue and white Alaska State Troopers helicopter made circles above the 142 acres filled with hundreds of campers, a dozen vendors, 56 hand-built outhouses, and musicians from 35 different bands, Wheatly said his "Karma Kontrol" posse can be credited with keeping the peace as much as possible.

"If you come here with good karma and a good attitude, you're fine. If you don't, you don't stay," Wheatly said. "We don't put up with as much as we used to."

And it's made all the difference in the world, Wheatly said.

Just seeing the faces of a couple of wheelchair-bound young girls who got a sure thrill from being able to attend the festivities this year tells him he's doing something right.

"It was the whole world to them," he said wearing a red festival shirt with his nickname proudly displayed. "Twenty-four years of fighting with the borough and the police and that made it all worthwhile to me."

Wheatly said he just wished that all the people who criticize the event every year would pay their $35 to drive in and they'd see what he's talking about. He said it's mainly been local news media that have helped perpetuate the negative image of the festival.

He pointed out that no one ever hears about all the arrests made at the Alaska State Fair each year, yet that's all anyone ever hears about when it comes to the Talkeetna Bluegrass and Music Festival.

And, yes, the Hell's Angels biker group does operate the event's beer garden, he pointed out. That does not mean, however, that they run the show or even have any influence in it.

"I know I'll never be able to convince the world of that, but they're people, too. We also have doctors and lawyers who come here," he said. "We have patrons who work in local businesses and live in your neighborhoods. What makes them bad just because they're here?"

At one blue picnic table atop a small hill, three men who either work as attorneys or in victim assistance for the state enjoyed fresh fruit and carrot juice as they surveyed the scene around them.

They all said they have made the festival an annual tradition to release their built-up stress. No cellphones or PDAs aloud, they all agreed.

"Mount McKinley was just glistening this morning," said Scott Purden, an investigator with the Public Defender's Office.

Alaska musician Lulu Small was trying to ignore a different sort of stress - she was getting married Sunday on the festival stage in a hand-made red, white and blue satin dress to a man she met about a year ago. And Dirty Ernie was giving her away in the ceremony officiated by her brother, Tim, dressed in a wizard's outfit.

A longtime MC at the festival, Small explained why she chose the patriotic trio as her wedding colors for her "golf shot" fourth marriage.

"Red, white and blue symbolizes the freedom this relationship means to me," the tall redhead said lounging in front of her rainbow-colored school bus she lives in when she's not at home in Anchor Point. "I finally found some freedom in love."

Unlike Small, the festival doesn't yet hold fond memories for first-timers Brian and Kelly Bunnell, of Palmer, and their 15-month-old son, Estin. They were enjoying a band called "Truce" from the front row of the spectator area as they played with Estin.

"We heard it was a good time, so we thought we'd check it out," said Brian, who will be teaching math and science at Colony Middle School this year.

Another couple of first-time festival goers in the state from Vermont to do volunteer work for the Alaska State Parks said they'd heard something a little different, but decided to check it out, anyway.

"We heard it was a drug fest," Winter D'Angelillo said with a laugh, adding they hadn't actually seen any evidence of that yet. "It seems pretty tame right now."

One Wasilla resident, Elaine Amberger, 19, said she wanted to see for herself what all the fuss was about.

"I didn't know exactly what reputation it had," she said as she tried on a macrame choker at one of the vendor booths. "I needed some questions answered, so I'm only staying until tonight. I think I'll come for the whole thing next year."

A man from Frankfurt, Germany, reading the poem etched on a large cross memorial for the festival's head of security who died in a tragic ATV accident last year, said the festival is quite different from those back home.

Back in Germany, concert-goers don't have to stay within the beer garden to enjoy an alcoholic drink, like they do at the Talkeetna festival, he explained.

"This is a very funny festival. Very funny," Hendrik Docken, 38, said as his 8-year-old son, Nick, studied rocks around his feet. "There are very few people and lots of bands. For us, this is not a festival."

But according to six-year festival veteran Terry Eberle, of Anchorage, as he sat under his "North Park" themed awning decorated with characters from the animated Comedy Central show "South Park," the festival was just getting started Friday afternoon. "It's four days of just kickin' back and relaxing, enjoying the music and the people," said the 52-year-old carpet salesman. "I know locally it's not very popular, but everywhere else, it's just what it is."

Kate Kelly can be reached at 352-2284.