By Tommy Herbert
Jim, the reason that I'm e-mailing is because of the fact that you may have made a topo of Jailhouse. Todd Graham thought that you may have made one and, along with Craig, we discussed the potential reprocussions of your topo. If, indeed, you did make a topo--why? Are there any routes at Jailhouse that you don't know about? And, if there are, will a topo help you remember them? I could care less if you and Anne have made a topo for your own sake but I heard that Chris Belizi (spelling?) had a copy of it. This really bothers me! Chris doesn't need a topo any more than you do--even less. Chris is very loud and boisterous and I doubt that he will keep your topo "under wraps". Do you disagree? Do you care? I believe that, until we have access, there should not be a topo. Needless to say, you and I don't agree; Craig, Todd, and John Scott don't seem to agree with you either. As an aside, if you were going to make a topo, why didn't you ask others? I feel that would have been the polite thing to do. And how can you even write a topo without my input or John's. Are you so Knowledgeable? Have you (or Anne for that matter) repeated my routes? Do you know all of the names and ratings? In order to make a topo, it would appear that you believe that you do. It is my not-so-humble opinion that neither you nor Anne are qualified to even make a topo to Jailhouse. Maybe this is not a rhetorical question: who do you think put up the most routes there? Who has done the most routes there? Who has put in the most work there? Who put in the most money there? If your answers the aforementioned questions are different than mine, we should discuss them. Admittedly, I was absent from Jailhouse last season and maybe I'm behind the times. Am I being sarcastic? Probably, but until anybody has but the money, effort,and time into Jailhouse as well as done all of the routes that I have--I believe that I should at least have some say in things (such as public topos). If, and when, we get access to the cliff, I think that there should be a topo and more. Right now I do not believe that there should be one. When that topo comes out, if I do not contribute greatly to it, it will not be accurate. Disagree? You have my e-mail address--let's hear it. T.H.
From Jim Herson Tommy, Neither Anne nor I have, or have ever thought of, distributing a topo. Get a grip. Love & Kisses, Jim
From: John Haggerty Subject: Reach out and diss someone Jim, Do you remember the conversation we recently had about your climbing career? Do you remember that I pointed out that the next logical (no--necessary!) step was to obtain a well-rounded butt-boy with some good PR and marketing skills? I can't think of a better illustration of this than the e-mail you forwarded to me. Sure, everyone's first reaction is "Time for the Herb-ster to toddle on down to the pharmacy for some more anti-psychotics," but this is missing the big picture. I look at Tommy's letter and see... Career Opportunities! Yes, there's nothing the mags like better than a bitter, pointless ethics war/soap opera. Tommy has foolishly fired the opening shot in a battle that will ultimately bring you to national attention. But these things have a limited shelf life. We have to strike while the iron is hot, redpoint before that jingus flake breaks off, top out before the storm hits. To this end, I have taken the liberty of preparing a number of scenarios, each of which is guaranteed to get you valuable column inches: Bad Boy As recently as last week, I would have said that Tommy had this one sewn up, but his letter betrays a concern for access that we can use to our advantage. Your credo in this scenario is "I do what I want, when I want." Get a new haircut. Weird and ugly is the goal here, so don't be shy. Listen to the kind of music that the pasty clerks at Tower Records like. Once again, your watchwords are weird and ugly. Add bolts indiscriminantly, even at random. Start wearing makeup. Rent a front-loader, buy some dynamite, and threaten to rearrange the whole cliff because you are "sick of climbing on this fucking slab." Show up at the crag dressed in nothing but nipple clips and saran wrap. Get a new, extremely pale girlfriend with an odd, Gothic name like Drusilla, Lucinda, or Guenivere. Finally, epoxy enough plasic holds onto Motherlode to make it 5.10a so that your girlfriend has something she can climb, saying "She was getting real bitchy just belaying. You gotta throw 'em a bone every once in a while, heh, heh." She can't climb your glue-on, so you dump her 2 weeks later. More in keeping with the current political climate, we have: Think Of Me As Phil Gramm With A High Strength-To-Weight Ratio God put things on this earth for you to use, and if there's anything left when He comes back, boy will He be pissed. You stand alone between big-government liberals like Tommy Herbert with his liberal agenda of controlling our climbing freedom, and the constitutional rights of Americans everywhere. Start wearing camouflage. Get subscriptions to Guns & Ammo and Soldier of Fortune. Hide in the bushes and jump out as climbers walk by, hissing "If you were a commie or a Fed, you'd be dead now." Declare the crag to be the first English-only climbing area in the country. Promise to report to the INS any illegal immigrants who have the temerity to take time off from their stoop-labor agricultural jobs to crank 5.13. Continually refer to Tommy as "Tommy Sherbert, part-time tree-hugger, full-time jerk." Practice your golf swing in the talus field. Every once in a while, peg someone with a well-hit drive just as they try to establish themselves on a tenuous sloper. Start taking a trail bike to the crag. Stay until dusk every day and shoot at the bats with high-caliber weapons ("the only things endagered around here are my Second Amendment rights"). Declare publicly that the slowly increasing number of women climbing hard at the crag is a product of the left and their radical feminist agenda. Finally, work a secret deal with the developer to sell Jailhouse to a quarry and get the whole think made into driveway topping. Finally, an old classic that still has some legs: Keeper of the Flame You are the guardian of the rock. After much soul-searching you come to the conclusion that "nothing in this game is worth hurting the rock for, man, the rock is the only thing that counts." Wear tie-die t-shirts and garlands of wild flowers in your hair. Start smoking a lot of dope. Spend some time with the hippies digging up new-age healing crystals. Be seen meditating in the patch of poison oak where the waterfall hits. You start to become more militant. Have a loud, ostentatious break with the crystal hippies. Steal their crystals and bury them again ("They had to be with their mother, man."). Climb without chalk to return routes to their original greasy state. Secretly remove glue from behind blocks to make the crag "the choss that God wanted." Finally, chop every bolt at the crag. This will create a huge uproar. You will probably be physically attacked. This is good. I have visions of you, having dramatically checked yourself out of intensive care, dragging an IV stand up the trail, your body cast twitching with your desperate need to "be the voice of the rocks, man. They can't speak for themselves." We get a photo of your despairing collapse, just short of your brave goal. Your tears nourish the moss of the talus field as the distance fills with the sound of rotary hammers. Whew! Well, that's a lot to absorb, I know, but keep thinking Robbins/Harding, Bachar/Kauk, Ken Nichols/everyone else. Conflict sells magazines, and they will love you for this. It's your duty.
From: Tom Addison Jim That is incredible. You didn't make that up did you? To see Tommy's ego exposed that clearly is astonishing. I wonder if maybe he was drunk when he composed it? I guess you, Anne, and the rest of unworthy beings (I think I am probably on an even lower scale in Tommy's eyes) who frequent the lair of the all-powerful, all-knowing Herbert (aka The Great and Mighty Oz) might as well spend our lives on all fours, groveling. Tom