Duck and Cover

When our “worst case scenarios” become reality, will a chic new group of hyper-prepared disaster freaks become the sole survivors?
by Shana Ting Lipton
Illustrations by Gregg Einhorn

It’s an unseasonably warm summer Sunday evening in Franklin Hills-the rustic pocket of Silver Lake whose old quaint architecture inspired the likes of Walt Disney. Beneath the dark wood beams of a high ceiling, about 40 or 50 members of Los Angeles’ avant-garde artistic community have assembled to discuss the unthinkable: a natural or terrorist disaster occurring in L.A.-and more importantly, how to prepare for it. This was once an old sea captain’s home-its current residents, book publishers Adam Parfrey and wife Jodi Wille, have been known to tell visitors. Tonight, it’s as though the rugged and nature-battling spirit of its former owner has been exhumed.

“It’s like a Tupperware party for 2006,” Parfrey tells his guests. The evening’s salon focuses on Aton Edwards’ book Preparedness Now! (released just last week by Parfrey’s publishing house, Process). The event is an apropos launching pad for urban survivalism-L.A. style-or at least a cutting edge microcosmic indicator of a growing fascination with disaster preparedness in the popular culture.

Presiding over his visitors, Parfrey, by way of introduction to the guest of honor, explains that when he was editing the “Extreme Weather” chapter of Preparedness Now! Hurricane Katrina hit. Nature has its own dark sense of humor. Edwards-who discusses such real-life disasters in his guide book, steps in front of the group. The African American, Brooklyn, N.Y. native is dressed head-to-toe in black, accessorized by a six-inch compartmentalized leather utility band on one wrist, and topped with a Yin-Yang headscarf. He’s not quite the old sea captain of the home’s lore, but passes for a Millennium pirate of the post-New Age variety. And, in what the zeitgeist tells us is a pre-apocalyptic era-replete with natural disasters from the Indian Ocean Tsunamis to Katrina, and terrorist attacks from 9/11 to Mumbai-Edwards is as good an action figure as any.

In 1989, he founded his not-for-profit non governmental agency (NGO) the New York Preparedness Network with the purpose of going further than the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) could-providing realistic emergency training and disseminating vital information. Like the mutable contagious viruses it anticipates, the group too has changed form and spread. It started with six local members and has mushroomed to 6,113 international members, and is today called the International Preparedness Network (IPN). Its philosophy-and Edwards’-can be summed up in two words: “improvise” and “adapt.” His book is the result of decades worth of personal obsession with both large-scale natural and chemical emergencies, and the tools, plans and ingenuity needed to survive them. Inexhaustibly complete, it features items on how to protect oneself from a chemical weapons release, purchasing the right solar battery charger and how to build a trench latrine-to name just a few.

L.A. locals are certainly no strangers to disaster. Riots, floods, fires, terror threats and earthquakes (past, present and anticipated) are ubiquitous in our cultural vernacular. The “Big One” is our boogeyman under the bed. The collective anxiety makes sense when you consider that the fault line between Palm Springs and San Bernardino hasn’t moved in 149 years (the San Andreas Fault, according to experts, moves on average every 140 years). “Even if we had an earthquake in Southern California tomorrow,” says Mark Benthien, Director of Communication, Education and Outreach for the Southern California Earthquake Center, “We’d still be overdue for a big earthquake.”

Many Southern California natives who grew up under the constant threat of earthquakes believe they’re amply prepared. However, some might be surprised to hear Benthien point out that the old standby-’stand under the doorway’-as earthquake protocol is mostly a crusty antiquated myth. It was disseminated after a photo from the Fort Tejon earthquake of 1857 came back showing old Spanish adobe homes demolished save for their wood frames. These days, with houses built of sturdier materials, says Benthien, “[The frame is] not much protection for you.”

Yet, in the general nationwide realm of the disaster paradigm, at least one component seems never to have gone out of vogue. Visionary architect R. Buckminster Fuller-one of Edwards’ idols-pioneered durable, inexpensive, easy-to-use temporary housing in the ’50s with his geodesic domes. The space-age looking, do-it-yourself hospices are commonly sold today in the form of plans and material with assembly instructions. Edwards is so inspired by the late Fuller that he even includes him in a chapter of his book entitled, “The 21st Century Home.”

But it was a more recent pop cultural phenomenon that seems to have really fueled his interest in combating disaster. “One of the things that got me into this, strangely enough, were popular disaster films of the ’70s,” says the 45-year-old, citing Earthquake (1974) The Omega Man (1971), and The Towering Inferno (1974) among them. Lucky for him, this genre is passing its torch to a new breed of Millennium era end-of-days films like 28 Days Later (2002), the popular BBC series End Day (which shows a different scenario for the end of the world in each segment), and The Day After Tomorrow (2004). Of the latter, he laments, “It was cartoonish in some ways,” but praises An Inconvenient Truth, the recent Al Gore documentary on the effects of global warming. He echoes the film’s dour sentiment, “We live in an age of consequences.”

It is a direct relationship to the media culture and urban pop culture, its language, imagery, and icons that make Edwards’ perspective different from that of traditional preparedness experts. It makes the old “stop, drop and roll” sound like the lyrics to a new Peaches tune. Edwards was once a stand-up comedian and married to Kim Coles of the television series Living Single. He is New York radio station KIIS FM’s default ‘disaster guy.’ He quotes lyrics from the ska/rock band Madness in his book. He is also a bi-weekly guest on former Public Enemy frontman Chuck D’s Air America show with Gia’na Garel, On the Real. And if we’re talking disasters of the terrorist-related variety, let’s face it; the most likely targets are urban centers like New York, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Chicago, etc. So, in this case, one would need to preach to a culturally hip, media-savvy urban demographic in its own language.

The trendsetting audience at the preparedness salon certainly perks up when Edwards describes disaster in the porno/fetish idiom so oft employed nowadays: “Maybe you could look at a disaster as a mistress with great big leather boots on, cracking a whip,” he says, demonstrating how one would be relegated to a cowering gimp in her presence: “Yes, Mistress!” Coincidentally, sitting just a few feet away from him with his wife is author and former Hustler magazine editor Allan Macdonell, who literally wrote the book on such vernacular-Prisoner of X, which Parfrey’s Feral House published. With a roster including titles like, Apocalypse Culture, Extreme Islam and Against Civilization among them, Feral House and its devotees are particularly attuned to the fringes of doom and gloom studies.

One such individual is K St. Germain, a writer who also goes by the performance artist name Miss Satanica. When Edwards takes a break from speaking to screen a documentary on his work, she and a few others straggle outside for a much-needed smoke. Eccentric actor Crispin Glover, whose head had been, until then, peeking furtively between the bars of a stairwell in the living room, seems to have found his own emergency exit-an outdoor brick staircase, just past St. Germain and the rest. Clearly, everyone needs some fresh air when talk of Sarin gas is involved.

“This is survivalism light,” opines St. Germain. She explains that she had done her own investigations on extreme survival groups, adding however that Edwards’ book is “perfect for the average person.” Average, tonight’s crowd is not. St. Germain describes it as consisting of artists and writers who normally choose to avoid such less-than-comely realities, seeking refuge in their creative imaginations. If the threat of impending disaster doesn’t pull them out of their secluded studios, perhaps the more dramatic and campy elements-like gas masks and goggles-will. Nevertheless, St. Germain says she believe this line of study could be well suited to such creative people because it’s, “less threatening than hanging with a bunch of green berets.”

As far as Edwards is concerned, he and his associates are ‘apples and oranges’ vis-à-vis the traditional green beret-style survivalist icons. “We see the survivalist image of a guy with a rifle, fatigues, a beer gut and Guns & Ammo magazine stocked here,” he says. “But this image has poisoned the well.” Yet the apple doesn’t always fall far from the tree when it comes to survivalist culture-hardcore, military-inspired and traditional or contemporary, urban and hip. Edwards, for instance, had just earlier told the crowd at the salon an anecdote about how some wayward people were attempting to get into his building on September 11th. They didn’t get far after he pulled out an A2 and pointed it at them. He stressed the importance of protecting the supplies one has worked so hard to stock up on from desperate and ill-prepared interlopers. His words seemed to trail off in intimation of what one might imagine could be, “…by all means necessary.”

The aforementioned slogan was in fact the title of a 1988 album by legendary hip-hop artists Boogie Down Productions. According to Edwards, their MC, KRS-ONE, along with urban artists like Africa Bambaataa and the previously mentioned Chuck D. have “stepped up to the plate” when it comes to his preparedness program-giving fans something to emulate. There seems to be a natural connection between hip-hop and preparedness, tied to constant urban warfare and the struggle to survive and self-protect, no doubt. One need only look back on the lyrics of the classic Public Enemy tune, “911 is a Joke,” to understand the deep fear and mistrust in emergency care providers and their commitment to the minority have-nots (a poetic harbinger of the fiasco after Hurricane Katrina):

Late comings with the late comin’ stretcher
That’s a body bag in disguise y’all betcha
I call ‘em body snatchers quick they come to fetch ya?
With an autopsy ambulance just to dissect ya

“The millennium has offered circumstances that require philosophical adjustments quite different from the previous century,” says Chuck D, who adds that Edwards’ book is, “…a necessary map for comprehending a new way of life and thinking.”

In terms of the subcultures, heavy metal-with its roaring guitars and lyrics concerning urban decay and Armageddon-also shares common ground with today’s preparedness ’scene.’ Edwards sites Rage Against the Machine (and its newer incarnation Audioslave) as metal derivative music that “has that theme.” In a recent VH1 documentary about metal, that same connection was made referring to old groups like Black Sabbath. Who can forget lyrics like the chilling ones in “War Pigs:” “No more war pigs have the power/Hand of God has struck the hour/Day of Judgment, God is calling/On their knees, the war pigs crawling”?

Looking like someone who might have been in the above-mentioned VH1 documentary, Mick Farren, seated at the back of Parfrey’s living room, engages in some incendiary banter with Edwards. A self-proclaimed anarchist, Farren is a writer who has penned science fiction books, and who sang in the U.K. group the Deviants. He argues that the word being omitted from the discussion is, “Socialism,” turning to the idea of everyone-including government-pulling their weight in a disaster scenario. As it happens, many Californians have been scoffing at the notion of government emergency outreach. Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger spoke passionately about seismic safety, putting forth a proposed bond measure for November that sets aside $200 million for seismic retrofitting in public schools. However, seismic safety experts had sought double this amount to sufficiently prepare the schools for major earthquakes.

Edwards has himself complained of government snafus during Katrina and 9/11 by (FEMA) and the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA). But he isn’t against the idea of working together in the community to create changes in the disaster preparedness capacity on principle. He is quick, though, to acknowledge that at the end of the day, you take responsibility for yourself and your next of kin. “Generally speaking, people are going for self,” he says. And therein, of course, lie the differences between the U.S. and the U.K. or some other socialized democracy, for instance. “This is America. This is about consumerism,” Edwards adds.

And certainly, few American consumers-with a penchant for gadgets, property and at the very least ‘things’-could resist buying some of the nifty items available for emergencies. It’s both a matter of survival, and let’s face it, kitsch pop culture allure as well. It’s like someone out of Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 strutting down the runway. “There’s a new business that’s sprouted from this,” says Edwards, elaborating that the wealthy are “looking to create floating survival compounds and ocean liners, survival homes, survival retreats…” Breakfast in bed, with the smell of napalm in the morning? Apparently though, the survival leader shares the opinion of these affluent enthusiasts, at least where basic comfort is concerned. “I don’t like discomfort. I’m not going to be hungry, filthy, or go to an emergency room when something goes down.” At the salon, Edwards shows the group his 90-pound survival backpack, or “Grab-and-Go Bag.” In Preparedness Now! he describes the ideal contents of the large pack which include a crowbar or four-way hatchet tool, a tent, military goggles and a roll of (that 2003 favorite) duct tape.

Jula Bell, a professional dog walker and musician in local punk band the Nip Drivers, says she learned a lot from Edwards’ book. But long before reading it, she took the plunge into the world of emergency gear when she and her then-boyfriend bought matching hazmat suits. “When faced with adversity not only do I not want to be desperate, I want to have some sort of comfort,” she says. In addition to bottled water, foil-sealed Indian food and, of course, her Silkwood inspired ensemble, the Southern California native not only has a preparedness bag for herself, but for her dog Merv as well.

Beyond hazmat suits, gas masks, emergency kits, weapons and boxes of Tamiflu, another facet of the survivalist movement seems to opt for looking at the preparations as a growing work-in-progress of the organic variety. In a place like California, it is probably no surprise to hear the current buzz-term “off-the-grid” bandied about. Somewhere between The Matrix and An Inconvenient Truth, it has made its way into Post-modern parlance. It refers to eco-conscious citizens who are working with alternative power, agriculture and their own ingenuity to create a non-polluting, self-reliant existence for themselves. This very independent land-based lifestyle was romanticized in the film Off the Map (2003) starring Sam Elliott and Joan Allen as bohemian types who go with their daughter and live off the land in rural New Mexico. This is perhaps every eco-survivalist’s dream. When the shit hits the fans, they will surely be using it to fertilize their gardens and fuel their vehicles.

Erik Knutzen, who works at the Center for Land Use Interpretation, a national landscaping research organization, has created his own fruit and vegetable garden with wife Kelly Coine. He calls it a ‘Survival Garden.’ The Silver Lake plot boasts avocados, figs, tomatoes, cantaloupes, cauliflower, broccoli and artichokes, among others, despite its urban surroundings. Though the couple’s original reason for growing the food was culinary (”There’s fresh food on hand,” says Knutzen), he adds that it has a back-up use as well-providing extra food when the canned goods run out in the aftermath of a big earthquake. “It’s just common sense,” he says, admitting that though there is always a possibility of terrorist attacks, “I’m more concerned about the earthquakes.” Knutzen has even posted instructions on how to recycle and refashion a Pepsi can into a stove on his blog (http://www.survivela.blogspot.com). And outside his musings, just a Google away, a common reposting explains how to make a solar powered generator for $300 or less using supplies found in most hardware stores.

But the online community of worst-case-scenario do-it-yourselfers and the bookstore are not the only outlets for emergency protocol education. Workshops and on-site classes are an old school hands-on way that people are familiarizing themselves with preparedness. On the evening of the salon, Parfrey introduces the group to Nancy Schellkopf, his former junior high school science teacher, who has taught a course in natural living. She and Parfrey haven’t seen each other in over 35 years. A preparedness salon is as good an excuse as any for a long-overdue reunion. Malibu, where Schellkopf teaches, has in recent memory been disaster central. “So often the PCH is closed,” says the cheerful blonde lady. She has seen interest in preparedness grow since then. “And after the Tsunami, people really started talking,” says the instructor, who also helps organize a preparedness fair.

Edwards teaches his own one- and two-day seminars-yet another extension of his work with the IPN, and the information and instructions chronicled in his book. In a country where, he says, “People define themselves by their furniture,” he hopes his words of inspiration will revive the original American spirit in everyone. “The American frontier mentality of rugged individualism is lost,” he laments. One of his aims is to help people, “think like a pioneer, like a traveler.” Edwards’ one-day seminars generally cost $25, whereas the two-day vary based on size, usually averaging at $120 for the 20-hour intensive. He has taught the course all across the Eastern seaboard, and Chicago, but hopes to expand his reach to Los Angeles. “If you don’t [learn to prepare] then it’s always in the back of your mind and that’s what produces the anxiety,” he says.

Tom Corboy, MFT, a licensed psychotherapist and director of the OCD Center of Los Angeles, agrees with Edwards’ notion that a certain amount of preparedness is good for providing materials needed in crisis and a sense of being “in control.” He however adds that at times, “…our efforts to gain control don’t really make us as safe as we would like, and often just make us more anxious about the unknown and unpredictable.” Ultimately, it may be a case of achieving the right personal balance-something humans always seem to be striving toward.

The Preparedness Now! salon ultimately culminates with an impromptu exchange of words between Edwards and writer Farren on the inevitable topic of humankind…and its extinction. It briefly transgresses into a philosophical two-man discussion about the value of human beings and whether or not our time is up as a species. Judging by the guests’ reactions, the scoreboard might read Nihilism: nil, Suvivalism: 1 in this final match.

The mood and air are dense as the discussion draws to a close and guests rise from their chairs, pour themselves drinks and mingle. Many of them reconvene outside beneath the nearly full moon. The glowing orb is pregnant with possibility, as if to say, ‘You never know. Anything can happen.’ And when it does, many of them will be prepared, or at least as Bell says, prepared to “party when the shit goes down.” LAA

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