Much like Gil, I took my own foray back in time in September, first to the 1970s, joining my fellow trail dogs, backcountry rangers and dirtbag climbers from the Aldo Leopold Society for a reunion at the Owl Conservatory. Afterward, I traveled back even farther in time, to the 1960s, for a high school reunion at the Multnomah Athletic Club in Portland. Each event was an awakening. The next two posts of GonzoPR will focus on each reunion individually, in order to do justice to each.
Tuesday, September 29, 2026
Time Tunnel
Much like Gil, I took my own foray back in time in September, first to the 1970s, joining my fellow trail dogs, backcountry rangers and dirtbag climbers from the Aldo Leopold Society for a reunion at the Owl Conservatory. Afterward, I traveled back even farther in time, to the 1960s, for a high school reunion at the Multnomah Athletic Club in Portland. Each event was an awakening. The next two posts of GonzoPR will focus on each reunion individually, in order to do justice to each.
Monday, August 3, 2026
Ada Station
Tuesday, July 14, 2026
Another Fine Day In The Flat
Thursday, June 11, 2026
The Beat Goes On
Doesn't seem possible, but another school year has come and gone, and the University of Oregon chapter of the Public Relations Student Society of America continues to grow and thrive. Thanks to student leadership teams that have increasingly stepped up since the global pandemic nearly decimated UO PRSSA in 2020-21, the beat goes on.
Tuesday, May 5, 2026
Scaling The Summit
Monday, April 20, 2026
Pearl Jubilee
In 1996, the Oregon-Columbia chapter of the International Association of Business Communicators (IABC) pursued the idea of a professional development conference in Portland, and invited the local chapter of the Public Relations Society of America (PRSA) to help organize the event as a joint venture. Originally called the Portland Communicators Conference, the event is stronger than ever after three decades.
Saturday, March 28, 2026
Prank Humor In Brightwood
Birdie McInnes walks into a bar, but it’s not just any bar. It’s the Brightwood Tavern along the old Barlow Road on the north bank of the Sandy River, tucked away where the forest reclaims the past, but is somehow preserved in the shadows of tall firs and cedars. The town became an afterthought when U.S. Highway 26 relocated on the south side of the river.
The tavern is a low-slung fortress of heavy, hand-hewn logs, weathered to a deep charcoal gray, with small, squinting windows. Even at midday the interior of the dark, dank pub remains perpetual twilight. Inside, the air is thick with the permanent haze of cigarette smoke baked into the very grain of the logs and the sticky varnish of the bar top.
Birdie, en route to Timberline Lodge for a climb up Mt. Hood's south side, spots a jukebox and peruses his options. The selections are what you might expect in the backwoods of Oregon, mostly country-western, but with a couple of outliers by The Grateful Dead. The jukebox offers three plays for a dollar, and Birdie has seven dollars. He decides to select 21 plays of Casey Jones. Then, he orders his food to go and waits.
The first play of "Driving that train, high on cocaine," raises a few eyebrows in the joint. After the third play, one of the patrons announces: "That song is longer than I remember it." On the song's seventh play, another guy who looks like he had just been paroled for domestic violence, says: "Goddammit!"
But on the eighth play, Birdie, being the clever lad he is, had chosen the B side of the disc: Sugar Magnolia. But on the eighth play, it was back to "Driving that train, high on cocaine...." The disgrunted patron grabs a pool cue, likely to use as a weapon, while Birdie quietly exits out the front door with his food as the bartender walks over and unplugs the jukebox.

































