Conversing Again: Reviving the Salon

They all sat in a circle and told why they’d come. A feeling of isolation, alienation. The need for a sense of community. A desire for stimulating discussions with kindred spirits. A commitment to political issues and social change. The dying art of conversation.

Nods and smiles greeted each comment. Somebody read a quote from Margaret Mead: “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.” More nods and smiles. The salon was getting off to a good start.

In North County and around the country, the conversational salon is being revived, revitalized and subjected to a program of urban and suburban renewal.

Salons have had a long and colorful history. The first ones were intellectual gatherings of the leading figures in politics and the arts in 18th-Century France--it’s said that the seeds of the French Revolution were planted in Paris salons.

Early in this century, Gertrude Stein had her influential Saturday nights at 27 Rue de Fleurus in Paris--for the likes of Hemingway, Joyce, Picasso, Matisse and F. Scott Fitzgerald. Meanwhile, at New York’s Algonquin Hotel, just across the street from the offices of The New Yorker magazine, the Round Table crew--Dorothy Parker, Alexander Woolcott, Edna Ferber, Ring Lardner, George S. Kaufman--endlessly tried to out-quip each other.

Today’s salons may be a bit less lofty, but they continue to serve a need for genuine conversation, for talk about real stuff rather than just stuff--part discussion, part debate and part old-fashioned jam session.

“I find that, most of the time, I’m talking with people in my own profession,” said Ron Amos, a Del Mar psychologist. “The conversations focus on matters psychological and therapeutic. In the process, I realized that a whole lot of other areas were being neglected. I was interested in getting together for discussions with a variety of people with a broader range of backgrounds.”

Amos has done that--in double-time. He’s joined two North County salons, and is happy to devote two Sunday afternoons a month to earnest but playful conversation. “I really like the idea of getting together with a bunch of people and just talking,” Amos confesses. “It stirs up so much, intellectually and emotionally.”

Kit-Bacon Gressitt, a free-lance political consultant from Fallbrook, was instrumental in organizing one of the North County salons. She was spurred on by her newcomer status in San Diego and her political leanings. “In Southern California,” Gressitt explains, “with the tremendous influx and outflow of bodies, there’s been a dramatic loss of a sense of community. I’m originally from Maryland, and I miss the history and family and social intimacy of the East Coast. But still, there’s a sense of exploration and being a pioneer here.

“But there’s also a lack of intimate connection, or of sharing a communal history. San Diego has an image of being extremely Republican and conservative, and North County even more so. But it’s not living up to its image, in my experience. There’s a lot more interest in progressive civil and human rights issues than I thought. Even the fact that there are two active salons like ours in North County is startling.”

It may be startling, but it isn’t just coincidence. The members of both groups are now connected by one common thread: All of them are subscribers to the Utne Reader.

Subtitled “The Best of the Alternative Press,” this small bimonthly magazine was started in Minneapolis in 1984 by Eric Utne. It’s grown into a socially aware and liberal-minded compilation of information with 260,000 subscribers. Those subscribers have an average income of $69,500, 97% are college-educated, 81% voted in the last election, 44% wrote to an elected official within the past 12 months, 85% contributed financially to a nonprofit charity or cause, and about 70% regularly patronize the theater, opera, ballet, independent or foreign language films.

“I always had the fantasy, after reading all those lovely articles (in the magazine), of sitting with a group of people and discussing those ideas,” said Karen Freeman of Cardiff, a research coordinator for a bio-technical company. “I would have images of the other readers, and almost a palpable sense of community. I saw them as intelligent, educated, literate, articulate. Like a salon in my mind. When the Utne Reader gave us a vehicle to act out that fantasy, I was thrilled.”

The vehicle was last year’s March/April issue of the magazine, whose theme was “Salons: How to Revive the Endangered Art of Conversation and Start a Revolution in Your Living Room.”

Articles on the subject were excerpted from the Gannett Center Journal, New Age Journal, Artpaper, Esquire and other sources. A small tear-out coupon asked subscribers if they might be interested in joining or organizing a salon. Responding were 8,200 people.

“Every state in the Union was represented,” said Tom Montgomery, who is assistant salon-keeper at the Utne Reader. He and Griff Wigley, the chief salon-keeper, spend all their time managing the huge project this little idea has become.

“The response from California was particularly strong,” Montgomery adds. “The whole thing was one more revelation about the level of isolation people feel in a state where so many people have trouble getting connected with like-minded people . . . . Nationwide, we put together 500 groups of 10-25 people, on the basis of ZIP code; that worked everywhere but California.”

Here, adjacent numbers no longer represent contiguous geographical locations. In one San Diego group, for example, there were near-sequential ZIP codes that included Cardiff, Carlsbad, Chula Vista, El Cajon and Borrego Springs; it meets regularly in North County.

It’s not yet clear how many of the groups formed by the Utne Reader are actually up and running. Nine were formed in San Diego, four of those in North County; the two North County groups, which meet regularly, have drawn from all four lists.

To keep better track of who’s active and what’s happening, and to formalize what obviously seems to be more than just a flash in the pan, Utne Reader is starting a Neighborhood Salon Assn., which will include a $20 membership fee, a national directory and four annual issues of a newsletter.

The format of living room conversation groups can vary widely. Discussions can be unstructured and free-floating, or a more organized, focused approach may be taken.

Salons, whether geared for conversation, learning, trend-watching, co-creation or joint action, are generally freewheeling and spontaneous,

Councils, derived from American Indian traditions, are more deliberate and meditative. To allow each person to participate in turn, a “talking stick” or other object is passed around the circle. No one is to interrupt the person holding the talking stick. One of the challenges of council is not to think about what you’re going to say until it’s your turn to speak, so that each person’s contribution is spontaneous, and responsive to what others have said.

Study circles are a long-established form of adult learning particularly suited for groups that want to increase their knowledge about political or social issues. Reading materials are provided before meetings, and a leader stimulates and moderates the discussion.

Some salon-like groups don’t call themselves salons, but their function may be the same. Bob Collie, 65, a La Jolla software company consultant, has been a member of a men’s discussion and support group through the Unitarian Church for five years. “It’s a very important thing in my life,” says Collie. “I treasure it. But I’d like to branch out, too, and join a more mixed group.” Now Collie plans to hook up with one of the North County salons.

In still another variation, a Friends of the Library Salon Series at UCSD features distinguished speakers from the arts and humanities. And the 172-member San Diego chapter of Phi Beta Kappa sponsors periodic study circles in addition to its public lectures.

Some North County salon participants are longtime activists--having been members of the Green Party, the National Organization for Women or other social, political or environmental organizations.

“I used to participate in ‘living room discussions’ as part of Beyond War,” says Karen Freeman, 48. “In the early days, we’d meet in people’s houses to discuss environmental issues, or how to dissolve global conflicts without violence. But then, the organization grew out of living room gatherings to centralized Town Hall meetings with a very social activist focus. It’s fine, but very different.

“A lot of my excitement about helping form a salon was because I missed those living room discussions.”

Groups do not always come together easily.

Frieda van Houten, a retired Vista schoolteacher, ended up with unfulfilled expectations in her efforts to organize a group. Formerly co-coordinator of the North County chapter of NOW, she thought a book-reading discussion group would be a great idea; she spread the word around the chapter, and six other women signed on. But it was hardly smooth sailing from there.

“We couldn’t agree on the purpose, the reading material, or even a regular meeting date and time,” Van Houten sighed “It seemed like everyone wanted to go her own way. Then, once we did reach a decision, people hadn’t done the reading when they showed up. The people who came really wanted to do something. They were extremely interesting and intelligent women, who looked forward to the idea. But they were so over-committed, it just never came together.”

Some individual efforts work out more successfully.

When Ann Shanahan-Walsh felt a need to combine her social and political lives, she took matters firmly in hand. She began to invite politicians, political reporters and editors from the local media to her house, for “a sumptuous dinner and an evening of stimulating conversation.”

Shanahan-Walsh is West Coast bureau chief of the Washington-based Campaign magazine, which she describes as nonpartisan.

The gatherings would certainly qualify as salons, especially with a spirited hostess (salons have historically been under the aegis of women), but Shanahan-Walsh has always called them “press parties.”

In the Utne-based salons in North County, the venues change with each meeting. But the configuration is the same: everyone sits in a circle in someone’s living room and participates in a group conversation. As participants had hoped, friendships are starting to develop outside the context of the salon.

“I’m very grateful for this new connection with people,” says Peter Hinchliff, a printer from Escondido. “I see it as a social thing, a friendship circle outside the bounds of any organization. It’s already working spiritually, personally and professionally for me.” He’s currently completing a printing job for a salon-mate.

Bob Gilbert, an assistant manager at Vons in Carlsbad, has also found the salon to be a welcome addition to his life. “This is a very satisfying connection,” he says. “I would never have met these people otherwise. With the busy life everyone leads, it’s very tough to meet people and have the time to discuss politics and the state of the world. I like the varied viewpoints. Everyone has their own perspective.”

At a recent meeting of the salon attended by Gilbert, Freeman and Amos, (a group that calls itself The Thunder and Lightning Salon, since it has rained--or poured--on the date of every meeting thus far), the topics ranged from the Tao of physics to the self-realization fellowship, to the movie “JFK,” to the Vietnam experience, to Y-camps, William Kennedy Smith and cross-generational views of male-female relationships.

The salon of Hinchliff, Gressitt and Amos has started establishing themes for its meetings. A recent gathering in Escondido focused on “A Sense of Place,” and the discussion included physical and emotional connections to particular locales, and, on a more spiritual level, finding one’s place and feeling out of place, sharing thoughts on where we’ve come from and where we’re going, as a culture and as individuals.

“We’re still evolving as a group,” Karen Freeman admits. “It remains to be seen exactly what we’ll settle into. I hope we’ll continue to have all the fun, retain the humor, the lightness, the camaraderie, the good food, but also have more time devoted to serious interchanges and dialogue. There’s a lot of passion in the group, and I’d like to see all the passion channeled to where we really learn from each other. But I don’t really want it more focused.

“What I love is that you really don’t know what’s going to come up next.”