SALES AT PARADE HELP SHORT NORTH CHURCH DOO DAH RIGHT THING

Published: Friday, July 2, 2004

NEWS - FAITH & VALUES 01E

By Kevin Parks

THISWEEK NEWSPAPERS

The irreverent meets the reverent each year when the Doo Dah Parade comes marching along W. 2nd Avenue in the Short North.

The parade is an annual display of silliness, sarcasm and sometimes sacrilege. Along its route is West Second Avenue Presbyterian Church, a tiny congregation in an aging structure.

The two Short North institutions are united by an intriguing symbiosis that might be possible only in their eclectic neighborhood.

The 21st annual Doo Dah will start around 1 p.m. Sunday, and members of the church will change their regular time for worship.

They are far from put out by this. In fact, they will be putting out their veteran gas grill and folding tables in order to sell hot dogs, hamburgers, soft drinks and bottled water to parade spectators.

''Most of our money is made on the Doo Dah Parade,'' longtime church member Lee Bender of Westerville admitted, somewhat sheepishly. ''It seems like a conflict of interest, but we'll take it any way we can get it.''

''We will be here for the Doo Dah,'' asserted lay minister Terry Holobaugh, who lives around the corner from the church and has been a member since 1985.

''We know they're there,'' said Deb Roberts, owner of a travel agency on N. High Street and one of the ''disorganizers'' of the parade. ''We always stop and greet them, thank them for being there. If they're raising money for church, that's fine. I say if you go to church, it sounds like a church you should go to.''

The parade has few rules (although politicians must wear ''funny hats''). On the Doo Dah Web site, unofficial starter Joe Theibert ''asks the entrants not to embarrass their families by, say, appearing naked.''

The ''political satire parade . . . to celebrate liberty and lunacy'' has been taking place since 1983, with the humor occasionally a bit over-the-top.

''It doesn't bother me,'' said the Rev. Kevin Heckathorn, pastor of West Second Avenue Presbyterian since October 1999. ''To me, we're called to be part of the community. Whatever sarcasm rolls by, it doesn't offend me.

''It's a perfect opportunity for us to interact.''

West Second Avenue Presbyterian conducts many programs to address social ills, even though it has only 27 members.

''It does have a very intimate setting,'' joked lay leader Holobaugh. ''You just can't get lost in the congregation.''

Operating out of the 102-year-old structure are a clothing room for the poor, a tutoring program for Franklin County children at risk of falling behind in reading, a campus ministry, Christmas and Thanksgiving baskets for more than 180 needy families throughout the city, and a ''Santa Shop'' for children who otherwise would not receive presents.

Every 10 weeks, the congregation takes part in the YWCA's Interfaith Hospitality Network to shelter homeless families. It takes in as many as four families for a week.

''I don't think we're too small a congregation to work on the things we do,'' Heckathorn said. ''I am often amazed at what we do get accomplished.''

''It's amazing,'' said Rachel Ginsberg, director of the Interfaith Hospitality Network. ''They're such a vital part of so many service communities. Even little tiny congregations like West Second are so key to what we do. It just would not be possible for us to do the work we do and survive without them.''

The congregation's continuing existence is the result of a ''yoked ministry'' forged about 30 years ago between it and Central College Presbyterian Church on Sunbury Road in Westerville.

Those were the bad old days for the Short North, before the term Victorian Village had been coined, before the mansions along Neil Avenue had been refurbished, before property values had increased sharply and before affluence had begun to displace crime and vice.

Three times the members of Central College Presbyterian petitioned the Scioto Valley Presbytery to keep West Second Avenue open through the yoked ministry, said the Rev. Richard E. Ellsworth, who was ordained and installed as minister of the Sunbury Road church in 1958.

''They felt it fairly important to maintain a Presbyterian presence down here where so many churches were faltering,'' said Heckathorn, who is a ''called minister'' maintained on the Central College staff.

''I would look at it more of the fact that we keep a Christian influence there; we're not gung-ho Presbyterians,'' Ellsworth said. ''It gives the suburban church an opportunity to have a presence in the inner city, and gives the inner-city church some of the resources of a suburban church.

Much of the congregation's work is funded through Northwest Presbyterians in Urban Ministry, an alliance of Central College, Covenant, Bethel, Liberty and, most recently, Grace Chapel Presbyterian churches.

Carol Petro, a member of Covenant Presbyterian in Upper Arlington, is in her 21st year of heading the tutoring program at West Second Avenue. She is assisted by her daughter, an English teacher at St. Francis DeSales High School. Using adult volunteers, the program provides one-to-one tutoring for as many as 30 children.

''This is just one of the many programs here,'' Petro said. ''There's so many wonderful opportunities for (disadvantaged) families. . . .

''There's something cohesive about these people who have stayed at that church for 20-some years, in some cases. Most do not live around the church. Most have moved away.''

''There's a lot of heart at this church,'' Heckathorn said. '' People are very genuine and loving.''

kparks@thisweeknews.com

American revolution

The Doo Dah Parade brings anarchy to the streets

by Brian Lindamood

A marching band plays homemade and found instruments, parading behind a blank banner to their boisterous dissonance. Two dozen Fidel Castro look-alikes lie down in the middle of High Street for a siesta. The Fashion Police roam the crazed route, issuing citations to unfortunately dressed spectators. A group of mimes "wok" in silence, because a mime is a terrible thing to waste.

Anarchy in the streets? It can only be the Doo Dah Parade, the delightful parody of a celebration that takes to the streets of Victorian Village and the Short North each Independence Day in the true spirit of the American Revolution. "It's Mardi Gras in Ohio," explained Sharon Morton, one of the parade's disorganizers. "It's just a lot of fun."

Joe Theibert, a disorganizer and the unofficial starter of the parade, described Doo Dah as the greatest event in Western Civilization. "It's sarcasm at its finest."

Theibert said there are few rules for parade participants, though he asks that entrants not embarrass their families by, say, appearing naked. And he once had to kick out a glad-handling politician who was taking himself a little too seriously (politicians must wear funny hats). Commercial pitches are a no-no at the non-profit, volunteer-driven event. Racism and cruelty are also forbidden. A recent float featuring "honest attorneys"--the float was empty--should clue you into Doo Dah's tongue-in-cheek humor.

Anyone is invited to get dressed up and join the community parade, poking fun at themselves or current events as elaborately as they want. There are no entry fees. The parade's meager budget--to pay for the parade permit and police on traffic duty--was provided by contributions from businesses along the parade route and from T-shirt sales.

Doo Dah disorganizers hope to make this the biggest parade in the event's history. "It's a day to come out and express your beliefs or disbeliefs in a funny way," said Deb Roberts, parade chairchick. Roberts was dubbed "Mz. Doo Dah" more than 10 years ago; this is her third year as chairchick. "It's silly, really. The parade is in good taste even though it's tacky."

The topics parodied by Doo Dah paraders range from local and national news events to campy non-sequiturs. Last year, Viagra and the Monica Lewinsky scandal came under attack; this year, Roberts expects the Nation Rifle Association and gun control to be popular targets. The parade also has its regulars: there's always an Elvis sighting, the Queen of Italian Village throws (uncooked) spaghetti at spectators, and apparently Batman will return this year if he can find his leather pants.

Dan Thomas, the disorganizer in charge of traffic control, thinks this off-the-wall spirit is a unique part of living in an urban community. Said Thomas, "I like the energy of being part of this madness, this neighborhood goodwill."

Doo Dah was founded 16 years ago over adult beverages at the Short North Tavern. Basically, the joking conversation turned from "Let's have a parade" to actually disorganizing the madcap event. This year's parade is dedicated to one of those co-founders and one of the parade's biggest supporters through the years--"Mr. Doo Dah," Bill Kiener, who's recovering from a recent illness.

For the first time this year, different branches of the Doo Dah Parade will follow two routes, meeting on High Street for the final, over-the-top leg. One branch will leave from Goodale Park, traveling through Victorian Village on Buttles, Neil and Second avenues. The other branch will start at the corner of Fourth Avenue and High Street in the Garden District, heading south and joining the rest of the parade at Second Avenue. The whole kit and caboodle will continue south on High to Russell Street. "We wanted to incorporate the Garden District into the Short North," Theibert explained of the new, northern parade route.

While admitting that, when the two parade branches meet, "it's going to be chaos on that corner," Roberts said the dual routes are the best way to include the entire Victorian Village/Short North community in the festivities. "The merchants are important, and so are the residents."

The parade is always popular with Victorian Village residents, who line the streets of Neil Avenue and host front-porch parties as the motley crew marches by. "Some people who have moved into the neighborhood and are seeing Doo Dah for the first time probably wonder what they got themselves into," Roberts laughed.

The 1999 Doo Dah Parade kicks off at 1 p.m. on Sunday, July 4, under the misdirection of the less-than-grand marshals, radio personalities John Corby and Michael O'Malley. If you want to join the parade, line-ups begin at noon at either the Goodale Park Gazebo or in front of Stonewall Columbus on North High Street. The rain date is July 3.

AlivewireD is featured in

---

News Briefs

Ooh Ah uh-oh

Easton parade steps in trademarked Doo Dah

by Melinda M. White

The Doo Dah Parade is a satirical, randy romp through the streets of Victorian Village and the Short North every Fourth of July. This year's parade featured a marching brigade of Fidels rolling about the route in full communist dictatorship glory. Men sported prosthetic posteriors and shook their booties for the crowd. Rowdy parade watchers packed the sidewalks and waited for the procession to pass, their cans of silly string deftly waiting for unaware participants to wander a bit too close.

The Ooh Ah Parade, which took place at Easton Town Center on July 16 and 18, was a short, quiet display of unidentifiable mascots and well-made floats. A few shoppers gawked as glitter-covered parrots on wheels, a golf cart covered in foam butterflies, mimes playing music and a clown-skeleton-grim reaper on stilts lurched down the freshly paved streets of the outdoor shopping mall.

And although the Ooh Ah Parade lacked the sharp wit of the Doo Dah Parade, Easton Town Center may find that the joke's on them.

Deb Roberts, chair of the Doo Dah Parade, said she is considering suing Easton Town Center for trademark infringement because she feels the Ooh Ah Parade was an overt rip-off of the Doo Dah idea. "Ooh Ah is a Doo Dah fraud," Roberts said.

Roberts said when she called Easton's information number and asked for a description of the Ooh Ah Parade, she was told Ooh Ah is a political satire parade with no entry fee. That same description could be (and has been) used for the Doo Dah Parade. "I am appalled at the complete theft of ideas," Roberts said.

The non-profit, volunteer group that organizes the annual Short North event trademarked the "Doo Dah Parade" name a few years ago, after Upper Arlington attempted to have a "Doo Dah Brigade" in its Independence Day Parade, according to Roberts. When Roberts learned the "Ooh Ah Parade" name had not been trademarked, she decided to buy it herself. And she did. Days before the Ooh Ah Parade took place, Roberts said she became the owner of the Easton parade's name.

Robert's husband and fellow Doo Dah organizer, attorney Charlie Loutzenhiser, believes the Ooh Ah Parade was an infringement on the Doo Dah name. "With it [the Ooh Ah parade] being so bad, it's sort of like we are being slandered," Loutzenhiser said. "They blatantly copied us, and it was a poor copy too."

Roberts showed up at Easton around noon on July 16 in hopes of protesting the parade while a local television station broadcast live from the site. She didn't get on the air, but returned that evening for the parade. "It was an pathetic attempt at our parade," Roberts said.

Carol Holmes, Easton Town Center's marketing director, said the flap over Ooh Ah came as a surprise to her. "They [Doo Dah organizers] have not contacted us about it," Holmes said. She claimed the Ooh Ah Parade concept, which was part of the "Easton Carnaval" opening celebration, was developed in conjunction with the events production company EventCo. Holmes said the parade idea came from watching children say "ooh-ah" at other parades and firework displays.

"All of the parades were aimed at families," Holmes said. "The Easton Carnaval was supposed to be a festival to attract all walks of life."

John Allen, president of the Short North Business Association and a longtime Doo Dah supporter, said he received a telephone call a few months ago from someone who claimed to be from Easton's marketing firm, asking questions about the Doo Dah Parade. "Her question to me was: `How do you put on a Doo Dah Parade?'" Allen recalled.

Allen said he refused to give the woman any details about the parade because she wouldn't explain why she wanted the information. Allen was later contacted by a man from the same firm who told him Easton wanted to do a Doo Dah-type parade, but would not hold it on July 4. Once again, Allen refused to give him any information. "In the future, I would encourage him to contact other local events. Maybe he could rip off the Hilltop Bean Dinner," Allen joked.

The real sticking point for Allen is that the Doo Dah Parade is a community-based event, organized by volunteers and enjoyed by local residents, while the Ooh Ah Parade was put on by a commercial enterprise. "They are trying to pretend Easton is real community, a real neighborhood, but it's not," Allen said. "It's just a big mall.

---

So Sue Me!

****

The Doo Dah Parade was bigger and crazier than ever this July fourth. A few favorite sites and sounds from this year's celebration of Short North madness: WWCD 101's convertible blaring Barenaked Ladies' If I Had A Million Dollars with signs declaring "Free Paul Otte" and an orange-suited Otte look alike (CD101 marketing director and newlywed Randy Malloy rode alongside his coworkers on his ultracool green Vespa); Stonewall Union supporters carrying rainbow flags with fire extinguishers attached to the flagpoles; and the troop of musicians led by Little Brother's owner Dan Dougan and Tracy Zollinger Turner which featured a man in a Mickey Mouse thong showing off his painted bottom as well as the family jewels. Missing this year was Miss Italian Village and the synchronized wheelbarrows, among others. As always, though, Doo Dah is a wonderful community event not to be missed.

****

Non-Sierra Club Community Events

The following activities are not sponsored nor administered by the Sierra Club. The Sierra Club has no information about the planning of these activities and makes no representations or warranties about the quality, safety, supervision or management of such activities. They are published only because they may be of interest to our readers. These programs, meetings, outings, and events are free and open to the public unless otherwise noted.

Fri., July 4-Doo Dah Parade COG will participate in this spoof on parades held yearly in Columbus’ Short North. You can march in the parade by meeting us at 12 noon in Goodale Park near the pond or watch the parade as it passes up Neil Ave., across Second Ave. and back down High St. We will march doing a spoof on Columbus sewers. Parade starts at 1 PM

If you're planning to spoof the Winter Olympics' ice skating competition in this year's Doo Dah Parade, you might want to reconsider. After all, a bunch of Canadians are on the Doo Dah International Judging panel, and skating paybacks, as we all know, can be hell. On the other hand, show up as a neurotic, trembling French judge and the Queen of Doo Dah will likely hail you from her golf cart.

Variously known as the Queen of Doo Dah, Mz Doo Dah, and the Doo Dah ChairChick, Deb Roberts/Loutzenhiser is devoted to promoting "liberty and lunacy" in the Short North. You'll find her motoring through the parade, attended by the King of the Queen, AKA Charlie Loutzenhiser, this July 4th. At 41 years old, Roberts shows no sign of abdicating her throne, though she is still a bit perplexed by her title. With a wisecracking Eve Arden-like delivery, she asks, "Queen of what?"

We have lunch one afternoon at Phillip's Coney Island and chat about how one goes from growing up in Philo, Ohio, to becoming Queen of Doo Dah. "Trash," she says, wryly. "I started out picking up trash. I still pick up trash."

For the uninitiated, the Doo Dah Parade - parade participants has poked fun at everything and everyone from the Bush girls to Castro (the ever-popular Marching Fidels) to Upper Arlington (there was once an "Upper Yuppington" float). Anyone can march, and nothing is sacred (you can bet that Catholic priests will be the object of some wicked humor this year). Winding its way through the streets of Victorian Village and the Short North, the parade became wildly popular - and just over 10 years into its existence, a bit too wild. Parade-watchers began throwing water balloons at those marching. Ultimately, spectators became so violent that one marcher was injured.

A decision was made to cancel the parade for three years. And although it was officially cancelled, the event, true to its nature of contradicting itself, went on. But Roberts recalls those days with palpable distaste: "It was just no fun that last year. It's not pleasant when someone shoots you right in the face (with a water pistol)."

In recent years, a much calmer audience lines the parade route, many of whom travel from the northern 'burbs to gawk and giggle. There will be no Doo Dah on their suburban streets, according to the Queen. At least twice, attempts have been made to duplicate Doo Dah -once in Upper Arlington (a gaff that inspired the aforementioned Upper Yuppington float) and most recently at Easton. The mall's management thought it would be a great idea to hold an

"Ooh Aah" Parade. Roberts immediately registered the "Ooh Aah" name with the state, prohibiting Easton from using it in the future, and then went to the mall toting a sign that read, "Ooh Aah, Doo Dah Fraud."

Roberts' feisty demeanor is shared by her colleagues, most notably the "Emperor of the Short North and Baron of the Bottoms, Douglas the Last" (AKA Doug Ritchey - "Doug rules the land of Doo Dah," Roberts explains). Together, the group has set the tone for irreverent revelry. "It's a great place to vent using political satire," she says. "We don't even know what PC means."

Roberts first volunteered for Doo Dah duty 13 years ago. After picking up garbage along the route for several years, she moved up to "volunteer uncoordinator" and then, six years ago, to ChairChick. It's unclear exactly when she became Queen, but as you listen to her talk about her annual gown search - "Darlin', every queen has a closet full of gowns"- you get the idea that the title really isn't much of a burden. Not long after each Doo Dah event, Roberts begins her search for next year's perfect gown, raiding the Salvation Army racks. "I have two gowns this year. Maybe I'll wear one for day and one for night."

Having grown up on a golf course (really), Roberts also has an affinity for golf carts. Unlike pampered royalty, however, Roberts insists on taking the wheel. "I love driving it." In the past, two waifs-in-waiting, Deb Carey and Linda Boulder, escorted Roberts. And then she met future-husband Charlie, who became the King of the Queen. Smiling broadly, she says, "He's been riding with me ever since."

Roberts' Doo Dah identity has become so much a part of her life that her travel agency's (University Travel Service) web address is www.mzdoodah.com. Clearly, she loves a parade. She lists a few of her favorite parade entries over the years: the Doo Dah band performing Foxy Lady; the Red Eye Witness News van with its faux satellite dish and half-dressed reporters; and Dr. Broyle's Construction Crew, which parodied a former local doctor whose wife was found buried in the concrete foundation of his home. "Doo Dah is supposed to be about your own beef," says Roberts. "There are enough morons in the world and there's lots to pick on. There are too many creative people in this neighborhood for it (to become conventional)."

While last year's event had plenty to mock (who could forget hanging chads?), this year's parade has to contend with the very somber reality of 9/11. Roberts, though, sees Doo Dah as a welcome escape from the tension. "I'm patriotic, but this isn't a patriotic event. It's about celebrating liberty and lunacy."

She hints at some possible entries for this year's parade: a spoof on WLVQ-FM jocks Wags and Elliott ("because they declined to be Grand Marshals of the parade"); the return of the On-Land Synchronized Swimming Team; a Congressman Traficant look-alike; Mayor Michael Coleman; and the infamous Beer Belly Brigade. Andrea Cambern,

WBNS-TV news anchor, is the parade's Less-than-Grand Marshal. "Maybe this will be the icing on her weirdness cake," laughs Roberts. Although the entries change from year to year, Roberts says she keeps "seeing the same crazy people" in the parade.

As ChairChick, Roberts' role is to oversee the parade's marketing and media efforts, as well as soliciting support from Short North businesses and directing other administrative tasks. The job is nearly year-round, with only a two-month break after each parade. She is quick to recognize the contributions of her fellow DisOrganizers and, despite her exalted title, loathe to take much credit for the event. With a budget of $4,500, the DisOrganizers pay for t-shirts, permits, and services from city police. Each year, the group donates proceeds from T-shirt sales to a local children's organization, such as Short Stop.

Roberts' love for political and social satire doesn't limit itself to one day a year. In fact, she and others in the group have been known to engage in guerrilla spoofing a week or so before Doo Dah. Roberts gleefully relates one such adventure: When a local realtor snagged a piece of neighborhood property from the city for a measly $10,000, the Doo Dah Queen and King posted "for sale" signs throughout Goodale Park.

As we sit looking out the window at Phillip's Coney Island, we spy two women walking down High Street, wearing "look-at-me-hey-I'm-rich" outfits. I can't help but wonder, where are Doo Dah's Fashion Police when you need them? I look at Roberts, who is wincing; my guess is that she's wondering the same thing. "We're awful," she says, laughing.

The 2002 Doo Dah Parade theme is "Commit to Be Lit" - Roberts says, "You don't have to be fit to be lit." The parade starts at noon, July 4 (rain date, of course, is July 3). The route, according to Doo Dah DisOrganizers, is: "Park Street to Buttles Avenue, taking a left, left, left onto High Street, then left, left, left onto Second Avenue, then left, left, left onto Neil Avenue, then left, left, left onto Buttles Avenue, then left, left, left onto High Street again, to Russell Street. But then again, that could be backwards and it could all be right, right, right in the opposite direction. If you need more info, call Mz Doo Dah @ 228-0621.

July, 2002 Cover Story Short North Gazette

Also present during our interview is Rita Stattmiller, a friend of the artist for the past six months. McKenney and Statt-miller met at the Doo-Dah Parade this past July and have been friends ever since. Stattmiller took Hershey for a walk to try and calm the dog down while McKenney and I spoke. Upon her return I asked her to talk about how they met. "I was in the Short North Tavern during the start of the Doo-Dah parade," she says with a laugh, "We just kinda met and hit it off!"

COLUMBUS, Oh. -- Anti-gay protests at the Ohio Statehouse last week, which resulted in the lowering and burning of a rainbow flag during the Columbus Gay Pride Parade, has prompted several conservative politicians to demand new restrictions on what kinds of flags should fly in Capitol Square.

Critics of the Capitol Square Review and Advisory Board, which oversees events around the Statehouse, have been demanding -- in effect -- that the rainbow flag representing the gay and lesbian community never be allowed to fly in front of the Ohio State Capitol again.

Republican Senator Gene Watts wants to limit flags flown at the Statehouse to those of the United States, Ohio, city and municipal flags, or the POW/MIA flag. Rep. Rex Damschroder introduced legislation Wednesday prohibiting any flags other than those of Ohio and the United States to be flown without the approval of the governor.

Democrats are resisting a legislative solution, but it seems inevitable that new restrictions will be imposed on the review board.

Act of violence is rewarded with a formal policy review.

The two men arrested for removing and burning the flag attend the High Street Baptist Church, headed by the Rev. Charles Mainous. Mainous says his church resents the ability of Stonewall, a local gay civil rights group, to fly a flag on public property. He asserted the flag is nothing more than a declaration of sin.

The Gay Pride Festival took place in Bicentennial Park and the rainbow flag, which symbolizes community diversity and is an expression of tolerance, flew below the American flag at the Statehouse.

Two protestors, 43-year-old Charles Spingola and 63-year-old Donald Richardson removed the flag during the Gay Pride Parade and burned it. Both have pleaded not guilty to disorderly conduct and criminal destruction on state property.

This past Sunday Columbus marked the 4th of July holiday with its annual "Doo Dah Parade,' a satirical celebration of Independence Day. The Stonewall Columbus group also participated and got one the best receptions of any group all day. Several Stonewall members marched with rainbow flags followed closely by a small troupe carrying fire extinguishers. v

(From the Aug. 2001 Issue)

Two Gems in the Crown of Short North: Comfest and Doo Dah

Sunday was the day I attended Comfest. By then the good juices were flowing. Congratulations once again to all who put their energy into this celebration of local talent and non-corporateness.

The music on the main stage was hot! (Art cars were located there so that's what I caught.) What an eclectic brew of sound. It started at noon with jazz, rolled over into Tony West and the Imani Folk Theater dancers and percussion. The ingenious use of modern fabrics and sewn-on shells made for a wonderful look on the fabulous dancers. Hip hop, rhythm and blues, country, bluegrass, exploded into the triple-header of Ekoostik Hookah, Hoo Doo Soul Band, and Jive Turkeys. The overall effect was the audio equivalent of Van Gogh's Starry Night. Swirls of electric chords coiled around us behind the stage.

Meanwhile, lots of hot shopping and worthy information was to be had at the booths. Many friends could be made and many futures dreamed by perusing the cornucopic wares. Bob Studzinski's photos of ethnic peoples from his many journeys through South America, Africa, and Asian climes were fascinating, heartening, and chilling. Sitting with Iris and Diana in their tarot booth, I watched teeming crowds pour by. The flamenco dancers and African-print wearers stood out splendidly. Also women in gauzy flowered dresses. One couple had complimentary outfits of black and white. I saw child with flaming red dyed hair in a stroller.

And the food! What choices to be made. I'm sure the choices of stage and venue were also mind-boggling. At any given time events were unfolding at the main stage, gazebo stage, jazz stage, Poplar Street stage, and Live Arts stage. Live Arts participant Dan Dougan stopped by long enough to say, "There are no absolutes." Eric Clapton was sighted on the grounds. The weather was perfect. See you there next year for the 30th anniversary.

*****

The Doo Dah gathering was a little sub-doo'd by the morning rain. By 12:30, the goofy spirit was gaining momentum. By 1:00, we were marching in the cool-for-costumes jaunty air. Music was provided by Eugene the Piano Peddler on his electrified piano-bicycle in loud and sweet tones. We had bagpipes accompanying the Peculiar Family Plaid, and of course the Doo Dah band, heavy on kazoos.

The Columbus Disgust provided these headlines for the day: "Tornado Hits Buckeye Egg Farm Residents Scrambled." "Campus Partners To Level Wexner Center It's An Eyesore." Pots To Shots Bourbon Gardener Obtains Liquor License."

Other headliners mocked were a certain errant landlord by a giant cockroach who claimed to live in his apartment; the Bush twins at a rolling Chuey's Bar, protected from the bouncers by Secret Service Men ("If you can blink you can drink"); President Bush by a bonzai tree breathing carbon dioxide; the Fainting Marching Fidels; and a Leroy Jenkins lookalike who carried a giant check (passing it back and forth to a Ben Espy look-alike) with an entourage of meds attending to an Eloise in a wheelchair.

Costumed clusters rode the crest of chaos like inland surfers on the wetted streets. A bevy of well-fed, jump-suited Elvises, accompanied by a hearse, sold kisses in the crowd for 25 cents apiece. Batman and "Halloween in July" vied for attention with a "Rocky Horror" brigade from Studio 35. More ghoulish yet were the "Terror at Cooper Stadium" group. Lest we get too far into October holidays, to balance we had the Doo Dah brides-maids, who got to wear their dresses once again (with matching tennis shoes) and some Turkish dancers (we think they were) who danced the entire way. The Doo Dah virgin and her flamingo-hatted, hula-skirted entourage swayed on by.

We saw Travis Burns as the world's tallest singing (and smoking) Christmas tree. I, as St. Bernarda, blessed the crowd with my little DooDawg Dune Buggy perched atop the Phelps Summer Art Car, although we lost its ceramic pooch passenger somewhere on Neil Avenue. Lara Weigand's "Disk Drive" of patterned colored floppy disks adorning her car looked like a moving board game. John the Bike Wizard brought out his latest two-wheeled creation with pirate and American flags, streamers, and beads, while Scott Williams's Plaid Car brought the newest in artcar contingents, the sign-wielding Family Plaid ("Plaid Power," "Tart N Plaid," "Plaid Y Puss").

Doo Dah Deb looked radiant as she thanked the crowd from her golf cart. Afterwards, I spotted the bonzai Bush costume abandoned on a parking meter by Goodale Park. It blended in with the park. The wave of good humor subsided from the Short North like a melted popsicle. But the ripples seep into your skin. Watch the news and your life for stuff to spoof next year.

We had Wonder Bread Woman in the Road Rage Combat Brigade: a Mazda Miata with skulls, steerhorns, heads both reptilian and human. Five former Miss Americas (Miss Led, Miss Fortune, Miss Behave, Miss Fit, and Miss Used) rode with Elvis. They informed us that three dated Elvis and two dated each other. Fred and Howard, last year's not-so-grand marshals, waited like pleased Buddhas under a huge furry pink flamingo, last year's nose-picking portrait on the front of their Cushman. Another vehicle sported signs SHORT NORTH MOVE TO EASTON, DRIVE THROUGH GALLERY HOP, CHEAPER ZIMA AT THE WEXCALIBER CLUB. A Volkswagen bug, white with stars and blue net wings, welcomed the Blue Jackets to Columbus: FROM MAD COWS TO FICTITIOUS HORNETS.

This year's DooDah Virgin (for it is the DooDah Parade I've been describing) was a giant green dinosaur. She had shiny streamers, crepe paper, and a Hawaiian lei attesting to her femininity. The Bone Mobile was orange and black and Halloweenesque, with sweaty half-naked painted people. The Castro Crew smoked up the street. The Y2K Bug group asked, IS YOUR TOASTER READY?

Individuals: conehead on bike, Groucho in khaki shorts and pith helmet, a harmonica player in a huge foam hat with a sign on wheels DO YOU DOO-DAH? A duo: on a bicycle built for two, the PROTECT THE UNCONCEIVED/ LADIES AGAINST WOMEN. They took a cigarette break on Neil Avenue, able to weave in and out of the action.

It is quite different to be a participant in the DooDah Parade (this year) than an observer (last year). In my own way, I hope I advanced the cause of DooDah (whatever that might be) in the Turkey Toyota. Two columns ago I was nervously waiting for it to be shipped from California; now my decorated vehicle has "come home" to Columbus. Perhaps better viewed up close than in a parade, it still garnered a hot photo by Eric Albrecht on the front page of the Dispatch Metro section, the caption with my art alias, "Ramona Moon."

I've been in many parades, but to this I'll attest: that was the longest, slowest, and hottest parade I've ever been in. I was behind the "Oddi for Mayor" group, who played good, loud music (most notably, "Money") while throwing a year's supply of Yankee Trader play money in the air. The breeze lifted it fetchingly on High Street (thank God for that bit of breeze!). The man playing Oddi, in orange jail jumpsuit, assured me the soap around his neck wasn't for washing away his sins. (It was for holding on to the soap.) "Hey-what's a few bucks between friends?" was a constant remark on their P.A. System.

What they didn't have in variations on the Oddi theme, they made up for in energy and volume. They stuffed some play money down my bosom, which I wore throughout the parade. I exchanged some for candy with spectator children along the parade route, thereby showing true American capitalist spirit.

The Dispatch article made much of the theory that DooDah was dying, or at least acquiescing. Perhaps the backing-off from complete anarchy (squirt guns, water balloons, hoses) has made it go too far the other way. It's too docile. Some middle ground must be found. Throwing money in the air is a start, and art cars spoofing the American vehicular sacred cow. And as far as Parade viewers wearing Lands' End and Nike instead of spiked hair - I saw lots of tie-dye, whole families of it, and besides, it's not what you wear, it's what your mind is like (DooDah, DooDah).

The tie-dye families behaved better than most. Some straight and sticky parade-watchers in front of the Greystone accosted my car, saying, "Do something! Get out of your car!"- more aggressive than any parade-watchers I'd ever seen. As it was, I was squirted with water once, crazy-stringed once, a beer can put on top (by a man), a condom put on top (by a woman). Got off pretty easy.

The Gay Pride/Garden District Band marched to its own drummer. . . They met the parade half-way and went in the opposite direction, infiltrating the rank and file (or rather, the rank and rank).

At the end, in Goodale Park, I had the pleasure of meeting John the Bike Wizard, who carries his decorated bikes (six) up several stories (five) to keep them safe and splendid.

Many drifted off to the Short North Tavern for libations. I received a giant police badge from the Oddi group. The real police guiding the parade and crowd were all smiling. Do. Dah. Dude.

NEIL AND FIRST: Anticipation on an empty street. The space is tried out by a remote control car sporting American flags. In the background, the Beatles singing "Girl" emanates from a house. Across the street, a pink stuffed elephant bearing a sign "Grand Pachyderm" gets drenched on a porch railing. A dog scoots along the slick pavement next to its owner, running down the liberated thoroughfare. Bicyclists, one playing a harmonica, and a lone in-line skater take advantage of the pre-parade opportunity. Silly String shooters waste their supply. Smiling police in cruisers slide by.

It is the day the clowns that walk the edge of reality and society come out to play. They are the termites in the crutches of bureaucracy, the spiderwebs in the corners of corporate offices, the road signs in the middle of the business-as-usual desert, pointing the way to "take it - to the limit - one more time."

THE DOO-DAH PARADE: a well-attended event. Rain spattered the waiting crowd, but the lined-up cheer as skies lighten up. Miss Italian Village's crepe paper stuck to her back, but it could only enhance. Fred and Howard smile as their magnetized digit-in-nose photo on the side of the Not-So-Grand Marshal Convertible answers that age-old question, "Where's the Spoof?"

It Is the day of the hastily-scrawled sign,, the sound of balloons popping like gunshotS, the rasta flamingo heading Santa's sleigh.

We encounter fellow newspersons from the Red Eyewitness News ("The News Nobody Cares About") who can interview with fervor, then swipe the video cam away with a "We Don't Care!" when one tries to answer.

Persons in the painted van (created downtown by the crowd at the June Artsfest) throw hamburger buns to the masses. (And yet, very few substances transfer twixt paraders and audience. Miss Italian Village throws pasta, but sparingly.)

Marching are various Viagra- and Virgin-oriented groups. The Soviet Limo Service is there (Harley of Russia), Ladies against Women, the March of Mimes Wok-A-Thon (wearing, of course, woks).

The recyclists wear newspaper hats, tin can lid earrings, and trash bags, with crushed-can lavalieres. Jake, Elwood, and Elvis bring up the rear, their late-model car complete with bumper stickers "Hate You," "Speed Queens" and "White Oats."

The Orange Barrel Queen cavorts in a mini-car replete with street signs and a dragging barrel. My favorite costume of the day was the musician in the cacophonous band wearing a cherry-print tablecloth for a cape, a hat resembling a sheep's head, and World War I leggings not quite reaching his red shorts.

The Short North, where Freedom of Expression exists on the Fourth of July and every other day, Doo-dah, doo-dah.

On other festival fronts, what would Comfest be without social activism and politics thrown in with the music. Booths were staffed by members of the Socialist Party, Libertarian Party, activists of every stripe, even volunteers from the Lee Fisher/Michael Coleman for Governor campaign . . . I can't say I remember seeing the Taft folks around though.

Sunday afternoon of Comfest was full of color as nearly 10,000 people lined up along Park Street for the start of the Stonewall Gay Pride Parade. Thanks are due to BRAVO (Buckeye Regional Anti Violence Organization) for an incident-free parade.

Ceramist Sue Shellenbarger, who encouraged her kids to express themselves from early on, joined her son Dan, painter and photo-columnist for Columbus Alive, and daughter Kerin, a dabbler in papIer maché and wood, as art and craft exhibitors at this 27th annual Comfest

The "Visual Von Trapps," as they jokingly call themselves, took to the streets to unload some of their work after amassing too much in their homes. Kerin's clocks can be seen locally at Transformations Gallery. While Dan is a Short North resident, mom and sis are out-of-towners who like to stay at 50 Lincoln when visiting.

Comfesters Madame Connie Connelly and Friends, including the ever-vivacious Jeanni Ray, returned with over twenty years of prognosticating experience, a Ia tarot. With low prices and fortunate fortunes, festival-goers enjoyed hearing what was in the cards for them.

Fortune: Be wild in the summer, 'cause there's no fool like a cold fool. Corollary: Many are cold, but few are frozen.