#2, December 18, 1998
When I was 13, one of my favorite theater experiences was seeing “Flight of the Phoenix.” This film, starring Jimmy Stewart, tells a story about cooperation for survival in the desert. After a crash landing in the central Sahara, the crewmembers of the damaged cargo plane must work through their fears and mutual animosities as they struggle to rebuild their craft. In the film’s climax, they have one last chance to restart the engine and fly to safety.
I now read with great concern about the imminent crash of another Phoenix. Petaluma’s Phoenix Theater, for so long a sanctuary for teens, has been sold. If it follows the course now set, by next summer it could begin its transformation into an office building.
For years, the Phoenix to me seemed at best a grungy dive for the spiked-hair crowd. When my 13-year old son pleaded with me to let him attend a concert, I went in for a closer look.
Surprise! Nothing remotely illegal or hazardous going on, just kids (and a few moms and dads) having a fabulous time dancing and hanging out. Manager Tom Gaffey kept it all under control without being “uncool.”
Since then, the Phoenix has been a popular theater experience with my family. My son has been back for daytime skateboarding and nighttime music. My daughter and friends from as far away as Ukiah and Arcata have met there for concerts and films. And I have learned a lot more about Tom Gaffey.
Community leaders tell me that Tom’s Phoenix is something truly unique. Rocky Nielsen-Mengistue, a longtime Petaluma resident and Guidance Specialist for the Petaluma School District, jotted some notes describing the Phoenix environment:
“Young, sensitive, thoughtful souls hungry for meaning and communication find each other at the Phoenix. Individuality is treasured. Sharing ideas, using your imagination artfully, supporting others who are hurting, and celebrating the spirit are valued highly. Everyone’s voice is encouraged. And Tom Gaffey sets the tone, watches over those in need of support, and gives honest feedback and positive encouragement over and over to the hundreds of young people who come his way. He can also be a task master when it comes to the importance of school work, education, and achievement.”
Petaluma City Council Member Jane Hamilton put it this way: “Tom has saved so many kids from the streets.”
The Phoenix’s predicament reminds me of the eucalyptus grove on Magnolia Hill, which was clear-cut last summer to make room for a subdivision. It may have looked of little worth, but it was a much-valued place, not only to the neighbors who walked and played there, but the animals who found shelter among the trees. I went there shortly after the trees were felled, and watched a doe wandering aimlessly through the debris. It was only a matter of time, I thought, before she’d be fender fodder.
Tom Gaffey’s Phoenix Theater is like many little-known natural treasures that were lost before people could be rallied to their preservation. It’s endangered habitat, and once gone, unlikely to be replaced. As a caring community, we must ask: what will become of those who are nourished there?
What might it take to save the Phoenix? (It’s too bad Petalumans couldn’t recover a fraction of the $10 million we contributed this year to this nation’s $35 billion nuclear weapons program.)
Perhaps it will take a holiday miracle. Could we recreate the scene from another Jimmy Stewart film, “It’s a Wonderful Life,” where a community comes together to support a community servant in need? Might we raise awareness and money through benefit films and concerts, setting the stage for a benefactor’s benevolence?
Like its counterpart in film, the fate of our Phoenix depends on the vision, ingenuity, and determination of the people who want it to fly.