“Out Of The Darkness: The Mystery Of Aaron Rodgers”

“It was a sunny afternoon in Malibu in February 2024,” sports biographer Ian O’Connor writes, visiting Aaron Rodgers who was “working on his tan while I fact-checked anecdotes and claims from the 250 interviews I conducted for this unauthorized book.”

The book is “Out Of The Darkness: The Mystery Of Aaron Rodgers” ($29.99 in hardcover from Mariner Books; also for Amazon Kindle). The “long-shot kid from upstate Chico” might not “lead the Jets to their first Super Bowl appearance since they won it all in January 1969”; yet, as the new season beckons, one never knows.

“Rodgers,” O’Connor writes, is “the most compelling and polarizing figure in professional football, hands down… I wrote this book to explain why.”

What follows is an account of Rodgers’ life, beginning with Pines Elementary in Magalia and concluding with his move to the New York Jets and his season-ending injury early in the first regular game of the season. O’Connor takes the reader inside Rodgers’ most crucial games, at Pleasant Valley, Butte College, Cal, the Green Bay Packers, and the Jets.

But the book captures Aaron’s personal odyssey as well against the backdrop of strained family relationships (O’Connor flew to Chico to take Rodgers’ parents, Ed and Darla, to that fateful Jets game), the sometimes prickly relationships with teammates, friends, and coaches, and the ever-present question of what is next after a Super Bowl ring (with the Packers in 2011) and MVP awards attesting his status as one of the greatest QBs in history.

Butte College is especially formative. Smart as a whip, Rodgers finds a mentor in coach Craig Rigsbee. It is 2002; Aaron is 18. Rigs overrules his staff and makes Rodgers “the guy.” O’Connor writes that “it was a decision that set up the most important season of football that Aaron Rodgers would play—ever—and leave Rigsbee as the man most responsible for changing the trajectory of his career.”

Despite his “self-generated controversies,” O’Connor notes, friends “talked often about Rodgers’ generosity, his outsized heart, and the money he had donated in the wake of the great wildfire and the great pandemic.” 

This, too, is Aaron Rodgers, Chico’s son.

“The Adventures Of Wild Willy: True Stories From 1940-1980”

Born in 1933 in Los Angeles, writer-artist Wilma Rae Forester moved to Chico with her family around 1940 and “finally settled in the barren wastelands of the eastern part of town called Pleasant Valley. Ours was one of only two houses on Cactus Ave. … It was great horse country and easy to access Bidwell Park.”

She and her young chums certainly did horse around back in those days, and Forester recounts some of those memories (with real names and only just a tad exaggeration here and there) in “The Adventures Of Wild Willy: True Stories From 1940-1980” ($25.49 in paperback from ReadersMagnet LLC, readersmagnet.com; also for Amazon Kindle).

“I married very young and had two sons and later a daughter…. The R.G. Rolls family moved to Forest Ranch in 1964. I married Jacques Gubbels in 1997 and we still live in Forest Ranch. I have trophies and ribbons from riding and painting” but her Christian faith sustains her along with her “children, grandchildren and great grandchildren.” 

In 1945 it took months but the family nursed a downed bird they called “Goose Gander” back to health with masking tape and a cardboard box. Then, hearing another flock overhead, the bird flew up to join them, slowly rising and circling the barn as if to say thanks. But there was a surprise: “We finally found his picture in our ‘Book of Knowledge,’ and Goose Gander was not a goose. He was really a Trumpeter Swan.”

Years later, housewife Wilma and friend Marge, both riding motorcycles, found an old logging road above Forest Ranch and made their way down the mountain to Butte Creek. And needing to get home by entering into a “no trespassing” area owned by “a cranky retired sheriff who lived all by himself” near the creek they found him “holding a rifle and packing a pistol on his hip.” Did I mention two big dogs? It took real smarts to get away.

The book is filled with Forester’s paintings and youthful shenanigans, but most especially is an homage to her home: “I love Forest Ranch.” Her memories, now in this time of challenge, are especially poignant.

“Rock My Soul: A Poet’s Heart, A Brokedown Palace, And A Final Fare-Thee-Well”

Few books have captured the essence of Chico like Stephen Metzger’s new memoir, “Rock My Soul: A Poet’s Heart, A Brokedown Palace, And A Final Fare-Thee-Well” ($19.95 in paperback from Stansbury Publishing; also for Amazon Kindle), available at Made in Chico, The Bookstore, or from the author at SMetzger@csuchico.edu.

Metzger “retired from Chico State in May of 2010, after 30 years teaching in the English, American Studies, and Journalism departments.” (Subsequently he taught at Butte College until December 2018.)

At Chico State Metzger connected with librarian Jim Dwyer, hired in 1986. Dwyer had a scholarly side (“Where the Wild Books Are: A Field Guide to Ecofiction” was published in 2010, his retirement year and the start of his “downward spiral”), but also, as Rev. Junkyard Moondog, an activist alter ego bigger than life.

“You could spot him a mile away,” Metzger writes; “long, stringy gray hair, crooked baseball cap, smile as wide as a kayak. … he always managed to surprise—if not embarrass—everyone around him, while he somehow seemed impervious to embarrassment himself.” More than once Moondog recited a poem while he “nonchalantly began to undress.” As a former girlfriend noted, “Jim didn’t have any filters.”

Metzger intertwines his own story with that of Moondog, interviewing those who knew Dwyer. Pot and alcohol use didn’t do him any favors in retirement. He died June 28, 2015, collapsing at a mini-mart on his way home after attending the Grateful Dead’s Bay Area Fare Thee Well reunion tour.

KZFR lamented the passing of a “free spirited eccentric, outspoken, caring, giving, loveable oddball. … He was pure Chico.”

In 2016 Metzger bought Jim’s old house in Chico from brother Billy. It became a rental, complete with a peace sign on the roof, and later shelter for spillway and Camp Fire evacuees.

Friend Lisa Emmerich: “People say he was a dancer who couldn’t dance, a singer who couldn’t sing, and an actor who couldn’t act, but I think he really could act. His quinessential role was the one he played every day.”

Jim’s house is a memorial to Moondog, but so is this book. Pure Chico.

"Chico's Chapmans: The California Years 1861-1899"

"Augustus Hartley Chapman's name," writes historian Michele Shover, "hovers like the wisp of a phantom in Chico…." Gus Chapman died in 1899, when Chico had fewer than 4000 residents, and though he had a remarkable part to play, except for "Chapmantown" his name has mostly been lost to history. Until now.

"Chico's Chapmans: The California Years 1861-1899" ($35 in paperback from Stansbury Publishing) is Shover at her indispensable finest. The fruit of forty years of research, her book is a compelling narrative of daily life in Chico focused on the man from Michigan who worked for John Bidwell and then turned into a longtime rival. 

In more than four hundred pages, including dozens of historical images, Shover captures a community beset by economic downturns, fires, political squabbles, controversy over whether to split Butte County (take that, Oroville!), failing wooden water pipes, family tragedies, anti-Chinese sentiment, murders. 

It was Chapman who in 1877 "formed a private vigilante committee of business leaders—the Citizens' Executive Committee on Anti-Chinese Crimes—to circumvent Chico government's refusal to act"; it was "the only vigilante committee in Chico history" and burnished his reputation "as a man of principle, courage and leadership."

Gus was also very much a man of his times. 

In 1865 he "left with Bidwell's partner George Wood to open a competing store." Five years later, with both Bidwell and Chapman selling lots on their respective subdivisions, Chapman, elected as a school trustee, voted to put the new Oakdale school near his own property. That despite Bidwell's offer to sell property for the school "on the east side of Orient Street ('Old Chinatown')" for a dollar.

As Shover notes, "A schoolboard member today who did what Chapman had done would be indicted. However, nineteenth-century government, in general, enforced no business standards or public ethics."

Chapman and his wife Sarah celebrated "their shared birthday and their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary" in 1883. Sarah kept the family together (and Shover pays due regard to her work). 

When Gus died, despite his many failures, "only his creditors were aware of one point central to his honor: he had paid off every debt in full. He died owing no man."

"I'm Not Ready For This (Everybody Just Calm Down And Give Me A Minute)"

"We drove together," Anna and her mom, "from Omaha, Nebraska, to Chico, California, in my cute little Volkswagen Passat. … I was hired at Chico State University as an assistant residence coordinator" and there Anna would be completing her MA in Communication Studies. 

Her first date with Rob, her future husband, was at Chico's Olive Garden. Time passes, the couple returns to Nebraska to raise two daughters, and Anna becomes humor writer and personal essayist Anna Lind Thomas (AnnaLindThomas.com).

Skilled in making mountains out of molehills, and then realizing she's been sweating the small stuff, Thomas' first collection, "We'll Laugh About This (Someday): Essays On Taking Life A Smidge Too Seriously," is now joined by a companion volume. 

"I'm Not Ready For This (Everybody Just Calm Down And Give Me A Minute)" ($18.99 in paperback from Thomas Nelson; also for Amazon Kindle and in audiobook format read by the author) reflects on life's challenges.

That includes Rob's vasectomy (and his use of frozen vegetables as ice packs); oversleeping on the first day of sixth grade (and "our Indy 500-style ride to school"); and running a 10K (no runner's euphoria; "instead, my subconscious mind conjures up every injustice I've experienced since birth and lets me dole out insults I'd never say in real life"). 

Training for the run "was enlightening. I learned things about myself I'd rather not know. For instance, I have incredibly poor bladder and, on occasion, sphincter control. My legs and hips jiggle, but not all at once, or in sync…."

At times outrageously honest, Thomas is at her best describing the bittersweet moments, like her friendship with Cindy, an older student in her master's program at Chico State, who rolled "her own cigarettes. She was fast and efficient, licking and rolling and smoking them down before moving on to the next thing." 

The "next thing"? Being in Chico didn't seem a good fit; Cindy breezed through the material but "didn't give a crap…. Her fierce and gritty independence drew me in. And I felt safer and less vulnerable knowing her."

In a way, that's also Thomas' gift to the reader.

"The Tattoos Of Chico"

At a Chico gym, Karen McHenry writes, she saw "person after person walk past with tattoos on their arms, legs, and elsewhere...." Intrigued, she interviewed nineteen people. "Many had suffered loss and pain and commemorated their strength in the tattoos they chose. A few became 'addicted' to adding art to their bodies. All of them are admirers of ink and the way it enables them to carry their stories on their skin."

With photographer Sean Martens, she has published a stunning look at "The Tattoos Of Chico" ($24.95 in hardcover from Stansbury Publishing) celebrating not only those whose tattoos tell a story, but the artists who applied in the ink. 

Dolores (only first names are used) found solace, after the breakup of a difficult relationship, in a large and colorful peacock tattoo on one side of her body. It "took a total of three months to complete--twenty-one and a half hours in all--three hours for the outline alone." The artist was Ben Lucas from Eye of Jade Tattoo in Chico. Dolores found that "other people's reactions ended up being important."

The book's cover features a detail from RJ's tattoos reflecting the artistry of Joe Sanchez of Exclusive Tattoo in Chico. "What about tattoos is so addicting? RJ answers: 'I like standing out, being individualized with art--this tattoo, this artist. I enjoy having the art on my body. It's an expression of who I am.'"

Some tattoos are impulsive, as when Xavier asked artist Joey Sanchez at True Ink Tattoo in Chico for a tattoo on the roof of his mouth. 

Other tattoos are more reflective. Angel had reconstructive breast surgery after a double mastectomy; Dr. Emily Hartmann was able to take Angel's tattoos of a dragon and scorpion (from artist Juan at 12-Volt Tattoo in Chico) and, using the issue, moved them to her breasts.

The book ends with the story of David Singletary, co-owner and artist at Sacred Art Tattoo in Chico, written by Caitlin Forisano. Stop by, David says, "'keep the tradition alive ... because, we tattooed your parents....'"

If a picture is worth a thousand words, there are lifetimes to explore in this compilation of Chico ink.

"The Movie Adventures Of Eva Jordan"

Third-generation Chicoan Jan Hill has written a quietly endearing novel, an account through the eyes of a seventh-grader of six weeks in 1937 when Bidwell Park turned into a sound stage for Robin Hood and his merry men. 

Drawing on newspaper reports from the era, the filming schedule and screenplay, and behind-the-scenes footage from the special-edition DVD, Hill beckons young adult readers to the premiere of "The Movie Adventures Of Eva Jordan" ($8.99 in paperback from Stansbury Publishing; also for Amazon Kindle). 

According to Ned Walsh, who sits a few desks away in Mr. Owens' seventh-grade classroom, "Robin Hood and the crew" were soon to disembark in Chico and head to "the film location at One Mile."

Eva lives with her parents, Ernest and Susanna Jordan, and three younger sisters (and a fourth home from college). She loves the "The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood" stories but is not allowed to see movies. 

Deeply involved in the Salvation Army church Eva's parents and other congregants are part of the "annual Christmas bell-ringing effort to collect money for the town's poor. Members took turns standing in front of Oser's Department Store at Third and Main streets to shake a loud bell...."

Eva is thirteen (going on fourteen) and intensely curious. And she wonders why Mr. Owens is talking about Spain, and those "'fighting their leader, General Franco, and his fascist ideology.'" He adds, "'big-time Hollywood actors, like Errol Flynn, the same fellow who will be here soon to play Robin Hood, have already gone to Spain to see what they could do to help the Loyalists.'"

Then, abruptly, the school board removes Mr. Owens amid charges that he is a communist. In response, Ned and Eva hatch an audacious plot to ask Errol Flynn to intervene and to help raise support for the anti-Franco movement. 

Once the Warner Brothers film crew and stars arrive, and Bidwell Park is transformed into medieval Sherwood Forest, Ned and Eva are daily visitors. They end up becoming extras, meeting Flynn himself, and getting the surprise of their lives.

And Chico "officially changed the name of the whole northern section of Ivy Street, renaming it 'Warner Street.'"

"Chico History: 1905-1971 Featuring The Bartlett Drug Company"

The ordinance passed by Butte County supervisors was stark: "All persons within Butte County must wear masks.... Failure to comply with the law is punishable by a fine of $50 or imprisonment for thirty days, or by both." It was November 17, 1918 and the "Spanish Flu" had hit hard. That year at least 104 Chicoans died of the disease. 

Ironically, there was a bright side. Early in 1919 a newspaper account noted business at drug stores was booming: "Every druggist in Chico is riding along on a wave of prosperity that reached its crest last November and has not subsided yet."

Among the eight or so pharmacies operating in Chico at the time was Bartlett's, at 330 Broadway. Chicoan Kathleen Gabriel, who teaches at Chico State and has published on how to best serve underrepresented students, focuses on this downtown landmark to trace "Chico History: 1905-1971 Featuring The Bartlett Drug Company" ($55 in paperback from Memoir Books; available on Amazon). The book is beautifully designed, replete with hundreds of historical photographs, and meticulously researched. 

Gabriel has deep roots in the community. "My paternal grandparents came to the Chico area around 1909," she writes, "and in 1921 their three-year-old daughter, Janette Ruth Martin, contracted catarrhal enteritis. Without antibiotics, she, like many other children with this and similar types of diseases, did not have much of a chance for survival.... She died in my grandmother's arms on May 21, 1921."

The pharmacy began as the Waste ("pronounced Wass-tee") Drug Company in 1905, became the Smith Drug Company and then, in 1909, the Bartlett Drug Company (operated by Raymond Schaller from 1944 until his death in 1971, when the business closed).

Gabriel's essential account immerses readers in Chico history, including the development of Enloe Sanatorium in Paradise, Sycamore Pool, Chico High, and much more. But it also gives a lot of love to advertisements (Palmolive Olive Oil shampoo, Gleem Toothpaste or Little Liver Granules, anyone?), the new "penny scale," the introduction of the rotary phone (in 1953 "Chico Goes Dial... New numbers will include the prefix Fireside 2"), competing pharmacies and candy stores, and prescription slips.

My prescription: Get the book.

SPECIAL NOTE: The book is available locally from the author, kgabriel@u.arizona.edu; or call (530) 342-6936. 

"The Chico Police Department: The First One Hundred Years"

James A. Dimmitt knows Chico well. He now works out of the Sacramento area as Commander for the Department of Developmental Services in its Office of Protective Services, but served on the Chico Police force in a number of capacities including, as he writes, "SWAT, Use of Force Instructor, Critical Incident Stress Management team." 

During this time he gathered historical materials to share with the Department, but "when Chief Mike O'Brien came in, I was asked what Chief number he was. Nobody knew. The small pamphlet ballooned into a much larger project" taking six years to complete. 

The resulting book pulls together tales and tidbits, from newspaper accounts and official records, chronicling "The Chico Police Department: The First One Hundred Years" ($45 in paperback, self-published, available on Amazon). It is simply essential for Chico history buffs.

Each chronological chapter contains dozens, if not hundreds, of entries, showing over time the changing, and sometimes fraught, relationship the Department had with Chico, its citizens, and the press. "As the son of a newspaperman and a 'lawman' myself," Dimmitt writes, "I understand the delicate balance between the need to get the story and the desire to get the story right."

He adds that "I have done little to shade the past with the filter of modern-day political correctness.... Many of the stories contained herein are funny. Several are deeply tragic.... Unless you have worn the badge and lived that life, it is difficult to ever truly know the Chico where these officers live. Perhaps these stories will help provide a window into that world."

"The first Marshal in the Town of Chico," Dimmitt writes, "was appointed on 18 March, 1872" a month after Chico's incorporation. The need was great; there were a lot of saloons downtown and, as Michele Shover notes, "drunken brawls were common." Transients caused trouble and some were sentenced to chain gangs.

Marshal James O. Weed was joined by the town's first two police officers, Benjamin True and W.A. Taylor. Today, so many years later, "Weed" is still an issue, the Department endeavors to remain "True" to its calling and to "Taylor" its responses to the City's needs. 

"Stories Of The Humboldt Wagon Road"

Andy Mark spent two decades as a brakeman and conductor with the Western Pacific and Union Pacific Railroads, and as a brakeman he spent his coldest night ever in Gerlach, in the Black Rock Desert in northwestern Nevada, the mid-winter temperature below zero, the wind "howling like a pack of wolves." The Black Rock area was the scene of the great "silver rush" in the 1860s, and opening the way for miners was what was then called the Chico and Humboldt Wagon Road.

Later he graduated from Chico State and worked as a data analyst and statistical consultant; yet even before his 2013 retirement was bitten by the local history bug. Could he tell the story of Black Rock from a Chico perspective?

He eventually focused on the first hundred miles, from Chico to Susanville, and the result is a captivating foray into bygone times, accompanied by historical photographs as well as contemporary pictures taken by the author. 

"Stories Of The Humboldt Wagon Road" ($21.99 in paperback from The History Press, historypress.com; also for Amazon Kindle) traces the road's fate decade-by-decade from its beginning in the 1860s on through the 1890s to today, where remnants of the original still exist.

Its development was spearheaded by John Bidwell who dreamed of Chico "being part of a major supply route from California to Nevada and Idaho" mining sites. That didn't pan out, but "regular stage traffic to points from Chico to Susanville continued, and the road opened the foothills and mountains to stands of virgin timber to supply an expanding logging industry." Little towns along the way helped Chicoans get out of the valley heat. (Jonesville seemed to be party central.)

Mark includes dozens of stories, culled from local papers, of stagecoach robberies, murders, shootouts, snowstorms, encounters with grizzly bears, and family tragedies. 

In 1888 the five-year-old daughter of lumberman Barney Cussick died; the Chico Daily Enterprise published a poem sent in by a Butte Meadows reader: "We are waiting, Maggie, waiting,/ For the hours to pass away,/ When we'll meet to part, no, never,/ On the resurrection day."

The road goes ever on, as Tolkien said, and Mark ably shows the way.