Overlooking the Salton Sea in the shadow of mature Ironwood trees rests a man still much loved. The former “mayor” of East Jesus, a fenced community of free roaming ever rotating artists, musicians, scientists and builders located on the far western edge of Slab City, Charlie Russell rests in peace.

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Slab City just north of Leonard Knight's painted tribute to love--Salvation Mountain-- is what’s become of Camp Dunlap, a 630 acre decommissioned World War II naval auxiliary air station north of El Centro. Built in the 1940’s along the banks of California’s largest lake and not far from the Chocolate Mountain Aerial Gunnery Range, the concrete slabs and subterranean bunkers are all that remain of the artillery training facility that once housed more than 185,000 Marines at its height of operation. The 30 buildings were officially deconstructed in ‘59 and the land was conveyed to the State via a quitclaim deed that did not, interestingly enough, include any restrictions, restoration provisions or even a recapture clause. Consequently, squatters have taken up residence on the abandoned property and although the Border Patrol cruises by frequently, government agencies turn a blind eye. And have been for more than fifty years.

Self proclaimed to be the last free place in the U.S., the Slabs made famous by Sean Penn’s Into the Wild is now a fairly structured community of “survivalists” and retirees, some living on hefty federal pensions. It has neighborhoods like any other, a pub/club/theater, a newspaper, a church and libraries. Although it does still have street signs posted, there are no public facilities or services. Folks use a natural hot spring pool down the street for bathing or rig makeshift solar showers if they aren’t living in self contained units (RV’s). However, as inventive as people can become when living “off the grid”, it requires a bit more than innovation to retain the overall health of an environment.

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Without solid waste disposal services, “slabbers” must either seriously rethink their lifestyles, and thereby their consumer habits, or devise methods of recycling and reusing their trash. Otherwise, the heap of refuse grows and all the problems associated with landfills develop. As with any neighborhood, some people are conscientious, responsible, and responsive--others are not. And really, it depends entirely upon your perspective as to whether you’d consider Russell part of the first group. I, myself, certainly do.

Prior arriving at the Slabs in 2006, the electronic assembly freelancer lived at Michael Snook’s Oakland based NIMBY, a residential industrial art space with over 40 different artisans and craftsmen in residence. A creativity powerhouse, NIMBY has spawned many memorable Burning Man art pieces. Russell and other slabbers of like mind were interested in developing low-tech solutions to their everyday problems. According to the East Jesus website (www.eastjesus.org), they collectively explore “unresolved theories, non-linear advancement, and creative reuse” and strive to become a working model of an “improbable improvised community at the edge of the world.”

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Intended originally as experimental, the village that sits 75 feet above sea level right smack on top of the San Andreas fault line has grown around Russell’s repurposed shipping container to become a habitable cooperative compound with numerous structures, a large open air well stocked kitchen, comfortable living room, library and music room complete with a functioning tuned grand piano. Container Charlie, as he became known, chose the site because it was on the outskirts of Slab City, had trees for the shade that would prove vital in summer heat that exceeds 110 degrees, and held a commanding view of the Salton Sea. He named it “East Jesus” because it was in the middle of nowhere, off the beaten path, far away from everything that didn’t seem to really matter—to him at any rate. East Jesus, as the website quite poetically states, “sits tameless among the bones of things left behind … and flays life of the temporary and the superficial to reveal what we in our surrender and hopeful naïveté have deemed … matters … what lasts: love, art, the will of the individual, the strength of the collective...”

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Residents have since installed solar power, restroom facilities, hot showers and small vegetable planters watered with grey water within the glass bottle walls shielding their abode from the ferocious winds. They have plans to increase their self sufficiency by building and stocking a chicken coop and by maintaining aquaponic gardens. The community, like the expansive sculpture garden that surrounds the compound, is—as the gateway sign reads-- a continual work in progress. There is a sundial made from triangular pieces of oxidized galvanized steel and hammocks are strung everywhere beneath the canopy of shade. I took this fact alone as a clear sign of occupant intelligence. Mirrored crosses and colored strands of beads hanging from the branches above reflect the shards of sunlight lending zen-appeal to the otherwise inhospitable surroundings amidst the harsh Colorado desert.

Constructed entirely of salvaged refuse and recycled materials by wandering “geniuses” and barefoot “messiahs”, by the dispossessed and repossessed, by sun seeking snowbirds, hippies yearning for simplicity, retired yuppies looking to stretch their well earned dollars and every genre in between, East Jesus’ sculpture garden is worth the detour off Highway 111 that runs north towards Palm Springs. A few relics of Burning Man have been salvaged and reconstructed here. Ty Johnson’s Can Organ that must sound incredible during the monsoons; California Institute of the Arts student Joe Holiday’s phenomenal Definition of a Grievance, a mammoth made from blown out tires; the Tower of Barbella and Windmill Bicycle Wheel inspired by Prescott, AZ sculptor/painter Royce Carlson; and Fame Retardant, a buried house piece constructed from scrap wood by Detroit and New Orleans influenced artists, Ben Wolf and Heidi Tillmann. When the setting sun shines through cancer survivor –master chef-vagabond Frank Redford’s bottle wall with arched entry, it’s difficult to walk away.

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Functional art pieces are included in the collection, beginning foremost with Russell’s very own Cinnabar Charm, his naked mobile where he’d lure willing females in for, among other things, a chocolate martini. Specializing in assemblage art, his red ‘71 Westie bedecked with roof mounted photovoltaics is almost entirely decorated with waste items. It served not only as his bar, but also as his home office taking him across the country to job sites and personal adventures. Another vehicle of note is the gutted and charred Carbecue, used primarily to “burn stuff” and to broil anything from patties to pigs.

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There are no local municipal laws governing the citizens at the Slabs since it isn't officially an incorporated city. There are, however, guiding principles that slabbers are expected to adhere to. Two actually, both of which are exactly what you’d expect from such a socio-economic experiment: 1) Do no harm as you 2) do what you wish. Easier said than done as history can attest and with any community, Slab City too has its share of dirty laundry. Robbery occasionally occurs and the crime is universally considered high taboo especially in a free society founded on mutual respect by people aiming to assist each other in order to survive. Violence, it should be noted though it, too, has reared its ugly little head, is virtually unheard of here. None-the-less, self preserving humans take reasonable measures, even at the remote Slabs. It is little surprise, then, that space delineating--stuff safeguarding fences have been erected, improvised alarm systems installed and territorial signs erected on the perimeter that read: “DANGER: Armed and Bitter Libertarian Drunkards Live Here – Trespassers Will Be Used for Target Practice”.

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Russell’s artistic legacy, the East Jesus Sculpture Garden and Zen Center, is open sunrise to sunset year round and admission is free, although donations are appreciated. (Slabbers, being non property tax paying squatters, aren’t legally able to charge for any service/product provided including those provided every weekend at the local watering hole aptly called The Range).

Volunteer participants are sought to assist with a wide span of projects, including the expansion of the sculpture garden. Those interested in exchanging labor, materials and/or expertise for food and shelter may contact them at: info@eastjesus.org. />

Comments

Ruth Newell March 8, 2012 @ 7:52 p.m.

Probably not what you were hoping for, Dadler.

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MackZender March 11, 2012 @ 11:05 a.m.

I am glad you wrote this piece, Ms. Roody. I'll take a detour next time I'm on way to Yuma if for no other reason than to carouse with other "Armed and Bitter Libertarian Drunkards". We seem to be a dying breed.

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Twister March 11, 2012 @ 6:29 p.m.

It's a start.

There used to be such a community in San Diego Bay until the Port Gestapo hassled the frugal into poverty.

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Twister March 11, 2012 @ 6:32 p.m.

This could have been a lead piece.

READER!!! Are you paying ATTENTION?

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Ruth Newell March 11, 2012 @ 7:28 p.m.

You think so? I keep posting here because I'm in the habit but maybe I need to look into how to submit features to them. I think I tried early on but NoGO. Thanks for your enthusiastic support, Twister. Means a lot to me.

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nan shartel March 17, 2012 @ 4:50 p.m.

ditto Twister!!

but they never pay attention 'cause then they would have to pay out some of those "all kinds of plastic surgical" advertising bucks they collect ...hahahahahahahahaha

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nan shartel March 17, 2012 @ 8:51 p.m.

the fact they haven't come running to ur door screaming "We want to hire u" makes me want to tear my hair out!!!!!

:(!!

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jhaire March 17, 2012 @ 10:08 a.m.

Wonderful piece! I was fortunate enough to spend a couple days at East Jesus before Charlie died and he was truly one incredible man.

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Ruth Newell March 17, 2012 @ 10:28 a.m.

Yes, I am told. His friends keep his memory and energy ever present. It was incredible to watch a friend play his baby grand in his studio! I really got the sense that music was the healing pulse of his space. Thanks for commenting!

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