Faces of West County: Jeffery Domagalski (AKA Whitebear)

A life of music and ecological activism

CORRECTION: The previous version had the wrong byline. This article was written by Steve Einstein.

I thought we’d start the new year with a much-needed breath of fresh air, and the upbeat, optimistic, big spirited guy who goes by Whitebear, seemed to be just the ticket. I’ve known Whitebear for years. (He humors me by calling me by my chosen nom de guerre, Whitefish.)  I first began running into him at Mirabel Lodge, a residential care facility for the elderly in Forestville. He would sit before a roomful of residents, most with advanced stages of dementia and not quite following the goings on, and in a joyful, soulful, and positive way, he’d belt out one favorite song after another. His mood was always good, and his energy relentless. Let’s get to know him a little better.

Where and when were you born?

Cleveland, Ohio, in 1956. St. Ann’s hospital.

Get out of here! I was born in Cleveland too! Mt. Sinai, in ’55.

I was from a white, Catholic, blue-collar, alcoholic sort of neighborhood. And of course we were big Browns fans.

I was from the Jewish, white-collar, corned beef and bagels, kvetchy part of town. We were more Indians fans.  

How did you get from Jeffrey Domagalski to Whitebear?

When I first got to the Santa Rosa Junior College in ’83, I met a man at some fair who was tabling for an anti-nuke group. He was part Cherokee, and we became friends. He’s the one who gave me the name.

What was the Cherokee man’s name?

Forest. I was just going for general ed credits at the time. I took a few music classes, but mostly general ed like biology and English. I loved the campus and the teachers there. I had over 100 units there by the time I left with an AA degree. Then it was on to Sonoma State for a degree in Outdoor Education in 1990. My friend Forest was also in my first band there, the Eco Tones.

Can we go back to Cleveland and your family?

There’s a sad part of that story. My parents had three boys who all died before I was born. One was eight years old, one six months, and one just a few days. They never talked about it, but they were obviously wounded by that. I’ve got a sister who is nine years older than me, and we are best friends who love each other dearly. My dad drank his problems away, and my mom wore her heart on her sleeve. Full of anxiety. My dad was 44 when I was born, my mom 42.

I’m so sorry. That’s a hard legacy to carry around.

It is. It feels like my brothers are still with me. I’m the fourth of four boys and the only one to survive. And I haven’t procreated.  My sister has five girls, but only one of them has had kids. Two boys.

Are those boys healthy? It must be scary coming from a family where there was so much history of childhood death. It might partly explain why you haven’t gone down that path or why four of five nieces haven’t.

Possibly. Other than the niece who had the boys, both healthy, one of my nieces is in a lesbian relationship, and the others just don’t look like they’re headed to parenthood.

I ask because it seems like young people today are clearly shying away from having kids like back in our day. I ask young people all the time what’s holding them back, and it’s economic factors, climate change fears, a disconnect from others that may be driven by relationships that are often virtual and not face to face—so many reasons. We may be headed in the direction of some Scandinavian countries who have negative birthrates.

Yep. We may be headed that way.

Did your family stay in Cleveland?

Yes. The east side of town, 64th and Broadway. Not the suburbs. South High School. I went to Cleveland Central Catholic until 9th grade. You know, all those jerks, those tough-ass guys—they’re all dead now. I went back in August after not being there for 12 years. A few got shot, some just drank too much, lots of bad decisions.

My sister’s there. Married to a great guy. It’s so different there.

What author said “you can’t go home again”? Maybe Thomas Wolfe? When did you leave Cleveland?

I graduated high school in ’74 and joined the Coast Guard. My parents told me to make something of myself, and I had no idea how, so I thought maybe I’d learn something in the Coast Guard, and I wouldn’t have to kill anyone. So ’75 to ’79, I was in the Coast Guard.

Did you go to the Coast Guard so as not to go to the Army?

No. We were already out of Viet Nam and the draft was over. It was my coming-of-age ceremony of sorts. But it was a hard time, and I had no social skills to deal with the hostility I met. I was fingered for being a narc and a thief. Got into a fight with a black guy. Some nights I slept with a pipe in my bed for fear of being attacked. That was in New Jersey. Then I was transferred out here to California, and it was a whole different thing. All that was left behind.

I went to school to learn how to patch up airplanes. I became a structural mechanic. I made some friends who I’m still in touch with.

And then?

After a short time back in Cleveland, I came back out here and started going to the JC.  The GI bill helped pay for it. Then on to Sonoma State. That’s really where I discovered music in a big way. It was a real awakening for me. And it’s where I melded my music with my environmental activism.

Did you ever marry?

Yes, for a few years back in the ’80s to a lovely woman. We met at the JC. She was a ballerina, a wonderful sweet spirt. It was the easiest breakup of all. We’re still friends but just so different from each other.

And after university?

I did some naturalist work, landscape work, odd jobs … but became an activist with Earth First! in the late ’80s.

Did you ever occupy a tree?

No. I was mostly a support person. I was never arrested, but in 1990 I led 1,500 people, Earth Firsters!, down Highway 1 in Fort Bragg, singing One Love. It was the Redwood Summer. That was the three-month movement of environmental activism that aimed at protecting old-growth redwood trees from being logged.  There were hundreds of state troopers separating us from the loggers and their families. We were speaking for the trees. The last of the old growth.

We’ve got a long way to go to honor the earth, but I think things are a lot better today.

Earth First! isn’t really around anymore, but a lot of people are doing good work now, like Forests Unlimited. They’re lawyers and teachers, using the law to help protect the trees.

Did you know Julia Butterfly?

No not really. She was in Luna, the tree, much later. (She lived in Luna for 738 days, from December ’97 to December ’99!)  She was remarkable.

In ’89 I formed the Eco Tones with Forest, the Cherokee friend I met at the JC. I’ve been a musician for 30-plus years ever since.

And you’ve got a few CDs to show for it!

I’ve got one adult CD, Honoring Life, and one for kids, Songs for the Salmon.

I know! My grandkids loved that album. They’d sing your songs in the car from it. We saw you at a street fair in Occidental once where you were singing, and they couldn’t believe it was you from the CD they liked so much.

Are you an optimist about where we’re going?

Yes, I am. I was an angry activist at first, but I’ve changed. I try to live my life now in a solution-based way, visualizing a new paradigm about how humans and the earth can coexist. I no longer blame humans for everything. We’re doing our best.

Are we really in better shape now?

I live in a bubble here, so I’m not the best person to ask. I know there are bombs falling out there, but in my world, there’s more harmony.

Aren’t you concerned that climate change is out of control, and we’re not really going to be able to turn it around?

I can see that, but I have to live my life, working for a better world. Otherwise I’d have a broken heart around it all, and my heart is already somewhat broken. I’ve got to do things that help. Whatever I can. Hey, I drive my car. I know I’m not pure. But we do what we can.

So what do you do for work now?

I’ve been working in elder care, playing music for them, and in a few school settings too. Music is my life now. I see my work playing for them as a love offering. Music is my gift.

Your CDs with environmental themes makes more sense to me now.

Hopefully they’re solution based. Something to help the planet. I think if there’s a word for this year that has just ended, it would be “fraught”. There seems to be so much tension around this cluster of big issues, like the Middle East war, Ukraine, the upcoming election that is already so contentious, immigration, our huge national divide.

Do you feel it?

Oh yeah. … But I need to focus on doing the best for the earth right here. What’s my part in making peace? I wake up everyday in this amazing forest where I live in Pocket Canyon between Forestville and Guerneville, and I have to figure out what my part of this amazing picture is mine. I stand outside in my bare feet every day and just soak in the amazing place we get to live in, and I’m just full of awe and respect. I know there is a lot of fear and anger out there, but I take strength from the birds and the trees, my allies that take me away from my pain. I live on 280 acres that my friend owns. There are a few other people on the property, but we never see each other. I have electricity and water. I’ve got a cabin and a geodesic dome and an outhouse. An outdoor shower and bathtub. It’s refreshing this time of year, though I often shower at the gym.

Any animals?

No. Just a small garden. I get a fair amount of sun.

You work with elders with dementia. What does your music do for them?

All my work is a love offering. I see music as my gift. I’m just sharing love, especially with those who don’t have family visiting. I try taking them to the place where they’re happiest. I call my service, Loving Joy Song Circle.

How many places do you sing at?

Well, COVID cut things back some, but five different homes every week, and with kids at some after school enrichment programs. And at an environmental camp where I’ve been singing for more than 27 years. So I get people at the beginning of life and at the end.

And from this you make a living?

Yeah. Not much, but enough for me. I live very modestly. I’ve given up the rock star dream.

I see you working out at the gym, Coaches Corners.  You work out with great passion.

I’ve been there 25 years. Three or four times a week. This body is a gift we’ve been given, and I want to take good care of it. The gym is crucial to me. I always feel better after going.

What do you eat?

It’s a plant-based diet. Occasional wild fish. I’m a flexitarian. Not really a pure vegan, but close. No pharmaceuticals, but a few supplements.

Do you go to a western doctor?

Yeah. I go to the VA. I’m 10% service-related disabled from the airplanes I used to work on. I’ve got tinnitus. There’s a constant high frequency in my ears.  But I’m fine otherwise. Nothing else wrong. I feel great, especially relative to some of my younger friends.

Do you feel like an elder at 67?

I’m an elder in training.

Your favorite hike around here?

Red Hill from Shell Beach. Every month for the full moon. And a back trail to the top of Mount St. Helena. It kicks my butt, but I love it. Jenner Headlands, the new park in Monte Rio. We’re so blessed to have so many choices. I feel so rooted here. I’ve got great community here and a remarkable spot in the woods. I’m blessed.

What cause or organization do you like to support?

That’s easy. The Cultural Conservancy, who have an indigenous crop farm called The Heron Shadow Farm. The work there is mostly done by indigenous people, but once a month others can come in and work there. I’m there every month. First to arrive and last to leave.

Whitebear, it’s been a pleasure getting to know you better. Thanks for sharing your story. And thanks for sharing your love. I know that it touches many.  Wishing you, and all our readers out there, a productive, healthy and peaceful new year.