SF Chron Article on Rev. Billy and the Stop Big Boxes Choir

Reverend Billy and the Church of Stop Shopping Revival with guest Charlene Moore. 8 tonight at the Castro Theatre, 429 Castro St., San Francisco. $10. For information, http://www.revbilly.com or http://www.castrotheatre.com; (415) 621-6120.
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He's a preacher -- of sorts -- who has found his calling: rooting out the evils of consumerism, block by entertaining block

Jane Ganahl   Saturday, April 24, 2004
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Santa Cruz -- Fred Linley just wanted to have a latte and a sandwich with his family, quietly tucked away in a booth at the Santa Cruz Coffee Roasting Co. in the heart of downtown's Pacific Garden Mall. His 10-year-old daughter, Molly, wanted to go down the street to Urban Outfitters, and he agreed to come shopping with her and his wife, Joanne, if lunch were part of the deal.

What he didn't expect was a revival meeting to invade the confines of the cafe, complete with fist-pounding preacher, a robed choir and dozens of curious onlookers, who have followed the preacher in a parade down the street for the last hour, and now crowd into the small space.

Linley sits, mouth agape, as a tall, handsome man with a bleached-blond pompadour -- known widely in his hometown of New York as Reverend Billy -- shifts into first gear.

"I'm here to praise the Santa Cruz Coffee Roasting Co.!" he bellows through a white megaphone. "They sell fair-trade, organic coffees! They put young Hispanic people to work!"

Amen, Reverend Billy! Hallelujah! The crowd murmurs in encouragement.

"Is this a religious thing?" Joanne whispers to Fred. He shrugs.

"I also praise this place for being a strong, independent force in the community, while just across the street from you is a Starbucks." Reverend Billy spits out the word as if it were a mouthful of turpentine. "They'll offer the owner of a business like this five times as much as their business is worth, with their fancy lawyers and their Stanford MBAs! But this one has resisted!"

Right on, Reverend Billy! Right on!

The Stop Big Boxes Gospel Choir, led by a man in a hooded sweatshirt (looking suspiciously like the Unabomber) and swinging a rubber snake, launches into a foot-stomping tune. Their gold robes swaying in unison, the multi-age, multicultural dozen could give the Glide Memorial Church ensemble a run for its money in the inspiration department. The only difference: These lyrics are decidedly not about God, but about the joys of nonconsumerism.

"Stop shopping! (clap) Stop shopping!" is the refrain. By the end of the song, the audience is singing and clapping along.

This is what it means to get caught up in the Church of Stop Shopping -- or the cult of Reverend Billy -- a mind-bending blend of street theater, political grandstanding and performance art. (The ensemble appears at the Castro Theatre tonight.) Billy -- a.k.a. Bill Talen -- is an actor and theater producer who got his start in San Francisco in the late '70s with the Life on the Water company and the Solo Mio festival, before moving to Manhattan a decade ago.

He's become known there -- since adapting his splashy, charismatic persona in 1998 -- for his commercial "interventions," going into businesses he believes are selling products that exploit workers or consumers and alerting shoppers to the sin of their patronage. His first of many arrests was at Times Square's Disney store, where he handcuffed himself to a large statue of Mickey Mouse, and was led away by police, with the statue dragging along.

Talen's unique act has made him something of a media darling. He's become so popular that he almost never rests, always on the road to universities or towns that need a well-informed speaker to rail against "big box" mega-stores -- and who can be drop-dead entertaining as well. He is a curious blend of the faux and the sincere; as the Village Voice put it, "the collar is fake but the calling is real."

And this cafe is only one stop in today's "walk of shame and fame," down Santa Cruz's main strip. "Children, I feel the need to go down the street to Urban Outfitters and root out more evil!" he cries, back on the megaphone. "I have a need ... to exorcise!"

The followers cheer their support. Reverend Billy has already exorcised one "seat of evil" in the last block -- the Gap. Putting one hand on the cash register, the other to the skies, he howled his exhortation: "Evil money, leave this transnational chain store!" while startled patrons looking for the latest khaki pants stared in disbelief. Still, no one tried to stop him.

This is, after all, Santa Cruz. And all in a day's nuttiness.

In front of Urban Outfitters' double doors, the crowd gathers while Reverend Billy works up another head of steam. "What we have here is an insidious case of selling young people on the notion that if they wear something new and trendy they can change the world! Yet some of these 'hip' clothes are made by 15-year-old girls in Sri Lanka!"

Booo! Sssss!

"And if this isn't bad enough, this transnational chain is owned by a Republican who donates a lot of money to President Bush!"

Reverend Billy's face is flushed with righteous indignation. And perhaps because this store's security guard is standing close to the entrance, the preacher opts against entering, and continues his procession down the street to another "walk of fame" location, Bookshop Santa Cruz.

"When you patronize a real community store like this one, you know where your money is going," Reverend Billy reminds everyone. "When you give your money to a transnational corporation, it becomes mysterious."

The choir finishes the tour with a spirited anthem, and the 100 or so spectators clap along. Billy thanks them for coming, his voice growing hoarse. "We have to get along, we're going to Humboldt County tonight to preach to the tree-sitters!"

This might also be called preaching to the choir.

Tired, he makes his way back to the bus, interrupted every 20 feet by another well-wisher.

"I just want to tell you that my son is a drama student, and interested in how acting can raise people's awareness," one woman says, shaking his hand. "I want to thank you for doing that."

"Thank you!" Talen smiles. "This was the only audition I could pass!"

Spying a street musician playing the sax, Talen quietly fishes a dollar - - of which he does not have many to spare -- from his pocket and drops it into his basket. Moments later, another fan shakes his hand and presses a $20 bill into his palm.

He looks down and laughs. It's fishes and loaves all over again.

"This West Coast tour is costing about $20,000," he says, "But we've gotten so many things donated -- including places to stay for the choir. We are truly depending on people's kindness."

Sitting down for the first time in hours, Talen enjoys some Mexican food before boarding the bus (festooned with revival-style decorations) for the long drive to Arcata. He is excited about returning to San Francisco this weekend, where he spent decades producing and acting in theater.

"I feel so grateful for my time there -- I learned a lot about the bravery of activists through the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, ACT UP -- even Harvey Milk," he says.

While here, he helped launch the long-running Solo Mio festival and worked extensively with the late Spalding Gray. When he visited New York in 1993, Gray returned the favor.

"Spalding received me and convinced me to cut my ties to San Francisco. 'Stay in New York, and do that preacher character!' he told me."

Reverend Billy's character sprang slowly from a character in a play written by Talen called, "Political Wife." His name was George Cudahy, a congressional candidate whose speeches verged on the evangelical. Soon, the character began having faux press conferences -- including one at the presidential primary in 1992.

"I started getting into the mind-set of yippies and other groups who use the public stage to make a statement," he says. After moving to New York, he developed the character with the mentoring of Sidney Lanier, an Episcopal minister who was a cousin of Tennessee Williams and a longtime street-theater veteran.

"He told me, 'I think there is a Calvinist preacher in you wanting to get out,' since I was raised by austere Calvinists."

Now that he has the Reverend Billy character mastered, Talen is involved in creating something akin to theatrical flash mobs. On the occasional work day, a group of between 20 and 200 supporters bring their cell phones to the subway station at ground zero, near the former World Trade Center, and all start to recite the First Amendment into their phones simultaneously, over and over. (More information is available on this and other Reverend Billy actions on revbilly.com.)

Talen pulls off his preacher collar and prepares to board the bus. "The cops walk through, see what is going on, and wonder, 'How can we make this illegal?' But so far, they haven't figured out a way."

He laughs heartily, happily. "Can I hear a hallelujah?"
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