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TWENTYNINE PALMS, CA - JUNE 2, 2001:
She alluded the cameras for most of the evening, the energetic petite blonde event designer who wrapped up our social season with a wild and crazy Moon Dinner in the park. That’s why you didn’t see her picture in the newspaper, and you won’t find her here. Jan Peters of Roughley Manor, inventor of “Once Upon a Desert Moon.” Not that I didn’t want to catch her smiling and bowing to all the accolades, it’s just that by time I spotted her in the crowd and grabbed my camera, she was gone. Attending to yet another detail of the evening’s dinner, rescuing table accouterments that had been whisked away by the wind, or checking to see that special guests had found their proper seating assignments. She was obviously there to work, not gloat. Her job of many weeks would not be over until the last guest had left, anywhere from 8 to 18 hours later, and the last of the party props had been disassembled, packed and returned home.
Co-organizers Beth Wiederhold and Karon Masterson, on the other hand, cropped up in a few of my photos. But I usually
managed to only capture the back of Beth’s head as she was constantly moving about the site, greeting arriving guests and welcoming them to the gala event. And the one great shot I had of Karon, I promised not
to publish - standing in khaki shirt and shorts with her clipboard, giving last-minute orders to her helpers even as the first of the dinner guests were beginning to arrive; after that, she disappeared to change
into her evening dress, and was off and running again.
This event started out as a simple fund-raiser for the Bucky Bucklin memorial community park in downtown 29 Palms.
The Action Council for 29 Palms, Inc., had approached Jan Peters (well known for her elegant extravaganzas) and asked her to create a fund-raising dinner at Roughley Manor - something enchanting under the desert stars and moon, something in the same vein as the magical Wish Upon A Star dinner at 29 Palms Inn that marked the beginning of the Oasis of Murals project in October 1994.
“I agreed to do the event ... but I think people are tired of coming to the Manor,” she told me in April, as plans for the
gala were already building to a crescendo. “I wanted to do something different,” she said. I laughed, of course.
Who could possibly get tired of going to the lovely Roughley Manor? But Peters wanted to create something different, and that she did.
“I remember driving to the Action Council meeting that morning, and by the time I got there, I had the answer.
It just came to me,” she said. Bursting into the meeting room, she boldly announced her fabulous new idea. “We’re not going to have the dinner at Roughley Manor. Instead, we’ll have a black tie dinner in Joshua Tree National Park!”
The reaction?
The entire Board of Directors sat with blank stares and their mouths hanging open. Of course, in inimitable Peters style, she eventually convinced them that a candlelight gourmet dinner served on elegant linen-covered tables with flowers and fish-bowl centerpieces in the middle of majestic Indian Cove campground, with a grand piano for dinner music, maybe a band for dancing ... and later sultan-style “Desert Suite” tents complete with beds and linens for those who wished to stay overnight ... would be the makings for an affair to remember.
Two full bars, spectacular lighting provided by Wonder Electric for nighttime illumination of the majestic rocks, shuttle
service for dinner guests (with valet parking for VIPs and handicapped attendees), a silent art auction, romantic dinner music provided by Ed Will, concert pianist Jarrod Radnich, vocalist Marne Kelley, and dancing
to Eddie Watkins Jr. and the “Go Big Daddy Band” with guest soloist Schalk Cloete (imported from the L.A. area just for this occasion), added the final touches.
While an unexpected element added by Mother Nature - the Wind - eventually precluded candles and fresh flower arrangements on
the dinner tables and wreaked havoc on a few salon hair-do’s ... the overall effect of the evening was, I have to admit, a stunning once-in-a-lifetime gala affair.
The Morongo Basin community rallied to the event, as did numerous attendees from out of town. Somewhere around 250+
guests enjoyed an evening of dining and dancing under the desert moon.
They came dressed in various attire ... from white tuxedos to black top hat and tails, from dinner jackets and formal shorts to western-cut suits with cowboy hats and boots ... women wore black, white, lavender, blue, silver, gold, sequins, chiffon, long, short, sleek, flowing, spaghetti-strap skin tight or full prom-dress gowns; everything from elegant formals to conservative desert casual dresses to exotic caftans with scarves. Considering the variety of costumes, famed fashion critic Mr. Blackwell would have had a field day with this event! Perhaps we can invite him to add “fashion-statement” commentary to the video footage shot by Bob Stephenson as guests arrived throughout the evening. (The viewing of that film at a later date will be an event all its own!)
In addition to marvelous musical entertainment, there was also a healthy dose of impromptu amusement provided by the guests
themselves during the gala.
Those who were spending the night in the tents, of course, let their hair down (in some cases, literally) and partied and danced with gay abandon, knowing they would not have to worry about driving home that night. The freedom of spirit, the levity of conversation and humor, the lure of adventuresome moonlight dancing, and, for those who had worked so hard on this event, the relief and sense of accomplishment were perhaps more evident than might be expected for any “normal” fund-raising dinner ... and definitely the mood was more liberating than if the event had been held indoors, for heaven’s sake.
It was, in fact, a night where a number of prominent local citizens fell over laughing in their dinner chairs or took a header
on the dancefloor (which was not hard to do, considering the “floor” was comprised of uneven sand); where the wife of a former mayor and one of the honored guests were seen wearing table cloths (as shawls); where
elegantly dressed women ignored their windblown hair and relaxed in the desert night; where old timers, new-comers, military officers and visitors shared equal social ground; where bow ties were finally tossed
aside, protocol abandoned, make-up forgotten, and spirits imbibed with no thought of morning-after regrets.
I arrived on the first shuttle bus up the hill, witnessed the arrival of all the ensuing party-goers, snapped a few photos,
enjoyed a full evening of dining and dancing, watched sunset shadows turn to spotlit ambiance, and left shortly before midnight - much to the dismay of friends who wanted me to stay. At least three couples
had eagerly offered overnight invitations.
“You can sleep at the foot of the bed in our tent!” they had joked. Although their offers might have conjured images of a moonlight-madness orgy in any other venue, I knew they were proposed in the spirit ofommunity friendship in our realm. “No thanks,” I told them. “I’m ready to go home.”
After a lonnnnnnng string of events over the past 10 months, culminating in the Street Fair on June 1 (which I had helped to
organize), and now the “wildly successful” Moon Dinner on June 2 ... I was, indeed, ready to go home and collapse. Try to regain what I once envisioned as a “simple life” in the desert. Try to
assess the “Wow” factor of yet another spectacular community event in 29 Palms.
Try to remember what this town used to be like before a determined group of locals back in 1994 decided to revitalize the community, restore local pride, create a mural project, and embrace the Arts & Tourism movement as a viable economic industry for our town.
However, on this particular night (“after the ball was over”), yours truly, the overworked Calendar Lady and SR Editor, needed
to withdraw. I needed time to balance out, shift gears and prepare to slide into an easy desert summer mentality, and rest up for Next Season.
Theoretically, next season’s social events begin next fall, except that we still have many other events ahead of us, planned throughout the summer months, none the least of which is The Great Race on June 29. Oh my. Lions and tigers and bears, oh my. 29 Palms events, oh my.
Did I hear correctly?
Certain local residents say they are determined to make this Moon Dinner an annual event? Oh my. All that work. Sheesh. I’m exhausted, just thinking about it.
Now I understand - finally - why some folks have to leave town occasionally, just so they can rest up, anonymously, on strange
turf in an environment where nobody knows them or their community involvement.
(I’ve been guilty of taking a few forays into the outside world myself of late, out of self defense.) If we have, in fact, created a monster here, I guess we can definitely say it’s a WOW monster. One “WOW” event after another. Out here... in a wind-swept valley, on the edge of the Mojave, on the road to nowhere.
Who says there’s nothing to do in the desert?! Ha!
Vickie Kelly Waite is a poet, freelance writer, and Publisher/Editor of The Sun Runner Arts & Entertainment Magazine in 29
Palms, CA.
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