Hollywood In The Cascades

When CBS transformed the town of Roslyn into Cicely, Alaska, they trucked in snow from outside and put up fake totem poles. But the money is real: a bonanza for Roslyn and a total of almost $7 million to the state this year.

ROSLYN, Kittitas County - One day last winter, Blue Dot Excavating of Cle Elum got an unusual call. Someone wanted to hire the company to collect truckloads of snow up north and then dump them along Roslyn's main street.

The bewildering request was a pleasant financial surprise in the usually slow winter months. "And it was fun," says Randy Rauschmier, owner of Blue Dot; "not your typical septic-system work."

Welcome to Hollywood in the Cascades.

In the make-believe ways of television, Roslyn has been transformed into Cicely, Alaska, for the filming of CBS's "Northern Exposure." Last year, Blue Dot added the snow that turned dry Roslyn into wintry Cicely.

Early this month, a production crew returned here to start shooting the second season, which premieres Sept. 23. The critically acclaimed show has become a hit with viewers in summer reruns. And it's a nominee for best-drama series at the Emmy Awards tonight.

Filming is done a few days a week in Roslyn. Other days, inside scenes are shot at a converted warehouse in Redmond.

Aside from occasional truckloads of snow and other cosmetic touches - fake signs, deer antlers, totem poles, for example - "Northern Exposure" is changing Roslyn in other, more subtle ways. For some, that's good news. For others, annoying. But none can ignore the impact on this peaceful hamlet of 860 nestled amid the evergreens of the Cascades.

"You've got all the crew members, plus an increasing number of tourists, spending cold, hard cash," says Mike Copeland, manager of the Brick Tavern, the state's oldest continuously operated bar. The Brick is the model for Holling Vincoeur's tavern, where Cicely residents meet and eat.

Along the bottom of the Brick's massive mahogany bar, water runs through a 30-foot spittoon, as it has for 102 years. Above the bar is a distinctly modern touch: "Northern Exposure" T-shirts.

This isn't the only change in town.

-- At the Brick, a waitress' tips are, at times, quadrupling to as much as $50 a day, says Copeland.

-- Crew members are buying lattes "by the armful" at the Roslyn Cafe. "Sometimes, they order more than 20 to go," says waitress Cambria Love, who has appeared as an extra.

-- When shooting runs into the evening, the production company orders $300 worth of pizzas at a time, often twice a week, from Roslyn's Village Pizza according to owners Nan Harris and her daughter, Darel.

-- City Clerk Margaret Heide says she was paid $25 an episode for renting her bright yellow canoe for use as a prop.

-- Roslyn itself gets $100 a day, plus hourly wages for time city workers spend on film-related business.

Money isn't the only incentive. Indian extras say they don't do the work for the $50 a day (plus meals) they are paid - often less than they make at their regular jobs. Rather, they say, they are doing it for the experience and because they are proud to be part of a show that presents their people in a positive way.

"Northern Exposure," for those who haven't joined the growing number of viewers Mondays at 10 p.m., is a blend of humor, drama and myth in which the Indian heritage of Alaska, at times, plays an important role.

"My tribe even paid for acting lessons," says Frieda "Kat" Beckman of Marysville, one of two members of the Tulalip Tribes who regularly appear in the background as extras, along with several other local native Americans.

Beckman, who works in the tribes' financial department, recently auditioned for her first non-"Northern Exposure" role: a part in a Lotto commercial. "I don't want to be a movie star," she says. "I'd be happy with just a few lines."

"Northern Exposure" has meant better-paying jobs for other residents who work in the expanding Washington film industry. It wasn't long ago that the credits and some scenes for "Twin Peaks" were shot some 50 miles across the Cascades. And an increasing number of movies are being filmed in the Seattle area.

"Seattle is becoming a film town," says Rob Thompson, co-producer, who grew up in Woodinville. "It's got such a specific look and culture, I'm surprised it's taken them (the film industry) this long to move up the coast."

"Northern Exposure" will spend nearly $7 million in the state this year, says David Clarridge, assistant accountant. More than 250 companies - ranging from hotels to logging companies - and individuals will benefit. Roslyn and Cle Elum will get about $380,000.

Of the approximately 160 crew members, including extras, all but about 20 are from the Seattle area, says producer Matthew Nodella, who chose Roslyn after searching through five states and Canada for the ideal location. Black Diamond also was considered. Alaska was rejected, in part, because it didn't have the production-related services required and because it would be too expensive.

"When we drove into Roslyn, we said, `This is it; this is the way it's supposed to be,' " recalls Nodella.

Just stroll into Jerry Morris' barber shop here and you get an idea of what Nodella saw. Haircuts are still $6; $5 for retirees. No appointments necessary. A regular sits in the shop's one barber chair, chatting with Morris.

The slower, quieter mood inside Morris' shop reflects life in Roslyn over the past three decades. This once-bustling city - settled by Italians, Yugoslavs and African-Americans, among others - has been a bit sleepy since the last coal mine shut down in 1963. Hippies moved in for a while. Loggers, too. But now, even logging is sluggish due to the recession and environmental concerns.

Morris is one of the locals whose life has changed since Hollywood came to town. Producers tapped him to play Earl, Cicely's barber. Morris, who has appeared in 16 episodes as a non-speaking extra, said two words as Earl: "All finished," after supposedly cutting the leading lady's hair.

In return, he got $436, plus $100 for use of his shop. That's a lot of haircuts, he notes. "With the economic situation the way it is here, that kind of money goes far," Morris says.

Turn the corner onto picturesque Pennsylvania Avenue and you will see the new Roslyn. More than 100 camera-laden tourists will line up along the main street this day, eyes focused on the area's newest industry. "Rolling!," shout several production assistants. Then, a hushed silence.

Deep in scripted conversation, actors Rob Morrow and John Corbett meander through Cicely/Roslyn - followed by a retinue of sound, lighting and camera crews traversing the street on special tracks.

Morrow plays the lead, Dr. Joel Fleischman, an inveterate New Yorker who reluctantly must spend four years in a tiny, weather-beaten, quirky Alaskan town in return for a scholarship from the state to attend medical school. Corbett is Chris "In The Morning" Stevens, the mellifluous disc jockey on Cicely's one radio station.

Chris and Dr. Fleischman continue their stroll down the street past the Purple Anntix gift shop, past Roslyn's Village Pizza, past Pennsylvania Station ice-cream shop (converted into Cicely's beauty salon). They come to a halt just before Central Sundries, where Ruth Anne regularly dispenses canned goods and wisdom at the Cicely General Store.

"There's an atmosphere here in Roslyn that makes this show what it is," says Nodella. "To shoot it (in Los Angeles) would destroy that mood, even though it costs us more here." Cicely's population is 849, pretty close to Roslyn's 860. In both the real and fictional towns, the tavern's owner is much older than his girlfriend.

Locals point out that tourism normally increases in July and August, but the added exposure of "Northern Exposure" is attracting more visitors. "People have been calling from all over the country and Canada wanting to know exactly where we are so they can plan a trip here," says the Brick's Copeland.

Several recent visitors said they came just to see the Roslyn ("An Oasis") Cafe mural - with its camel and palm trees; the mural made famous in the opening credits when knobby-kneed Morty the Moose casually strides by. But, on this day, fans got an added surprise.

"Wow," says Dave Dallas, an Albuquerque, N.M., tourist and "Northern Exposure" devotee who made a side trip from Seattle where he was visiting relatives. "I stopped by to get a photo of the cafe and then, I can't believe it, they're actually filming the show."

Filming will continue here at least through December, and possibly through April if the series gets picked up for the full season.

It's a chance for fans to see the stars close up. Barry Corbin, who plays Maurice Minnifield, former astronaut and Cicely's founding father, is hard to miss as he struts up and down the street in his startlingly bright, noticeably red cowboy boots, red plaid shirt and red neckerchief.

Corbett, who plays Chris, waves at onlookers and eventually pulls out his own video camera to take pictures of the fans. Morrow/Dr. Fleischman studies his script. The extras perch on the curb waiting to be called.

When filming began last year, relations reportedly were strained between locals and crew members. But that tension appears to have dissolved as the two communities get to know each other better.

"The crew is nice," says Purple Anntix owner Cindy Schmitt. And producer Nodella returns the compliment. "We've even seen Cindy through a pregnancy," he says.

Piotr Skiba, a former hydrogeologist and owner of the Roslyn Cafe, is equally impressed. He's even been interviewed by Entertainment Tonight. "I don't mind being a celebrity," he says.

Skiba, a Polish immigrant, bought the restaurant just months before "Northern Exposure" first came to town last year. Now, he says, he has more customers than he can handle.

"I just bought a Mercedes," he adds. It's a 1977 model that he proudly parks near the cafe's mural.

Still, some citizens, mostly town elders, grumble about having to change their daily routines when filming is taking place. They might have to take an alternate street when Pennsylvania Avenue is closed to traffic. Or wait to get into the post office, located near the storefront that serves as Dr. Fleischman's office.

"There are people who have lived here a long time and they don't like to change their routines," says Pat Reed, a Roslyn native and clerk at Central Sundries. "But there's also lots of us who like it."

Like extras Mike and Marion Mullin, for example. The Mullins have appeared in several episodes. "It's great for the city," says Mike, 65, president of Roslyn's Cemetery Association.

The cemetery is an important part of Roslyn's history. It was established in 1886, the year the first trainload of Italian miners came to the sparsely settled area. By 1888, the town had a population of 1,200 and was embroiled in a labor strike.

The mining company brought in black miners from Illinois to break the strike. Serbian and Croatian immigrants settled here, too.

All set up separate cemeteries. Today, there are nearly 26 cemeteries on 15 acres, including a plot for Druids established at the turn of the century. Some early Slavic settlers followed the ancient religious order of priests, soothsayers and poets.

When fictional character Rick was flattened by space junk that crashed to Earth on "Northern Exposure," he was buried in one of the cemeteries within the Roslyn cemetery - on film, anyway.

Despite the apparent need of Roslyn residents to separate at death, in life "everybody got along so good," recalls Mary Andler, who is minding the town museum. Andler, 71, has lived here all her life.

She, for one, likes the influx of visitors. "Without people, what have you got?" she asks rhetorically. Museum business is up 75 percent from last year. And pretty soon the overcrowded storefront archive will make room on its shelves - among such items as equipment from mine No. 6, a photo of the first Roslyn boy to die in World War I and a plow harness - for "Northern Exposure" memorabilia. "It's part of our history now," Andler says.

So as the reality of Roslyn merges with the myth of Cicely, locals are, for the most part, cautiously optimistic about the impact on their town. Most hope that the glitz of Hollywood will provide a measure of celebrity for a while, but not alter the town forever.

Of course, some like Jerry Morris, wouldn't mind a more lasting change. The barber may get a recurring speaking role as Earl.

If he does, Morris will have to pay $192.00 for his Washington state Screen Actors' Guild membership card; more if he acts out of the state. Realistically, he says, Hollywood probably won't beckon. But if it did?

"I wouldn't turn it down," he says.