Where Have All the Grass Roots Gone?A...

Where Have All the Grass Roots Gone?

A Golden Hill landmark is closing its doors.

The Grass Roots Cultural Center--gathering place of progressives, organizing point of small movements, repository of off-beat books, records, posters and peace toys--is closing the shutters Oct. 15 on the 6-year-old bookstore and performing space at 30th and Grape streets.

The small business, a quirky one-of-a-kind in the sleekly synthetic cityscape of San Diego, is falling prey to changing priorities: Its organizers say there are no longer enough people to support, and particularly to lead, the long-struggling operation.

“We did an inventory of the people that started it six to eight years ago,” said Peter Brown, a San Diego teacher and member of the center’s board. “Almost everyone has acquired at least one marriage, often one divorce, several kids and a mortgage.

“In addition, almost everyone is working in one or another cause. A lot are working for peace in Central America, a lot for nuclear disarmament. The more general support-type work that Grass Roots (took on) doesn’t have the same intensity.”

The center--a next-door neighbor and soulmate to another Golden Hill mainstay, The Big Kitchen--arose out of an effort by Brown and others in the late 1970s to bring blacks, Latinos and whites together through independent cultural events.

There were acting troupes from South Africa and performers from Puerto Rico. Each time, they would leave behind books and records. Finally in 1981, the center’s organizers set up shop in what seemed to be one of the few racially integrated sections of the city.

Since then, the center has presented hundreds of meetings, concerts, talks, English classes for Cambodians, a seder and even a wake. Its shelves are lined with books on Central America, peace and justice, gay rights, civil rights.

“Volunteer-based organizations, you know, they ebb and flow,” mused Donald Cohen, now director of San Diego’s Central America Information Center. “ . . . In an era of Reagan, an era of diminishing alternatives, it’s a real tragedy.”

But it seems unlikely that the center will be replaced by gourmet ice cream or a store peddling custom-made videocassettes of egomaniacs lip-synching Madonna tunes. One local business reportedly considering filling the space: A reggae store around the corner.

Shell Organization

Vern Kirchman, an industrial engineering technician and tortoise maven on the side, was in his element last weekend when 7,000 humans and 50 tortoises and turtles turned out for the 13th annual San Diego Turtle and Tortoise Society Exhibition in Balboa Park.

There were spurred tortoises, red-footed tortoises, leopard tortoises and Hermann’s tortoises. There were desert tortoises, box turtles and more. Kirchman, president of the society and a true tortoise lover, pronounced it the best exhibition ever.

Kirchman, 49, from Jamul, first became acquainted with the species in the 1960s when a visiting relative left a tortoise behind in Kirchman’s house. Kirchman became curious and did some research. Soon he had seven tortoises hibernating in a box under his bed.

A flyer in a pet store tipped him off to the Tortoise and Turtle Society--at the time, a small group of San Diegans meeting in a park in Pacific Beach. His first meeting was a little unnerving: A young woman sat through the event cradling and kissing a huge toad.

“I came home and I sat on the edge of the bed. My wife was in bed reading,” Kirchman recalls forlornly. “I guess I looked kind of quizzical. She said, ‘What’s wrong, honey?’ I said, ‘I don’t know if I want to go back. These people are crazy.’ ”

Within months, Kirchman was the society’s president.

Fifteen years later, he has 30 to 40 turtles and tortoises of his own. They live in the backyard in Jamul, sleeping in heated and insulated houses. He runs a tortoise infirmary for sick and injured tortoises brought in by the public, and an adoption service.

As for the society, it claims 3,000 members worldwide, monthly meetings, and a mission to educate the world about tortoises. The topic of next month’s presentation: “Desert Tortoises: Care, Do’s and Don’ts.”

Kirchman is the speaker.

Sink or Swim Event

Tired of flying to Vegas to gamble? Finally, there’s an opportunity to do it in San Diego. The Muscular Dystrophy Assn. is offering a night of blackjack, poker and other games at the Jewish Community Center in La Jolla. In the swimming pool. Shallow end.

Only certified scuba divers are invited, however. The chips and dice will be weighted to insure they sink. “I’m not sure how they’ve got the card situation together yet,” said Richard Coolidge, an association spokesman. “But they say the cards will last underwater.”

For the faint of heart, there will be other games on dry land.

The scuba-poker concept is the latest weapon in the accelerating race for catchy fund-raising gimmicks. Scheduled for Sept. 5, the association hopes to raise money from the $20 entrance fee. Game winners will get tickets for a raffle, no cash.

Coolidge said the idea comes from Water Education Training, a San Diego scuba-training firm helping with the event. By way of credentials, Coolidge volunteered: “They’re the people that did the underwater pumpkin-carving! And the underwater Easter egg hunt!”