RALPH THE GLADIATOR There are no Ralph Nader action figures--yet. But the Green Party's presidential candidate hopes to follow in the political tracks of Jesse Ventura, Minnesota's rasslin' governor. This Friday, Nader is playing to the crowd with a super-rally at the Memorial Coliseum, hoping to generate enough buzz to put him on stage during the October presidential debates. It is the Nader campaign's largest event scheduled so far. "If we can blow the lid off the Memorial Coliseum and it puts Nader in the debates," says local Nader Raider Greg Kafoury, "we could look back on this as the turning point of American politics." Two years ago, the Minnesota gubernatorial debates elevated Ventura from the lowly depths of 10 percent voter support to win the election. But before Nader can smackdown with Bush and Gore, he must get the green light from the Commission of Presidential Debates, a nonprofit organization that exists solely to organize the televised presidential and vice-presidential debates. The commission's criteria for including third-party candidates are strict. To participate in the debates, candidates must receive a whopping 15 percent of the electorate support in five different nationwide polls--triple the 5 percent requirement to qualify for federal funding. Nader is polling around 7 percent support in Oregon and nearly 10 in California. Naderites hope public pressure will persuade the commission to relax its rules. They also think they have an ally in George W. Bush. Campaign watchers say Bush is entering the debates as an intellectual underdog to the wonkish Al Gore. With the hyper-cerebral Nader onstage, Bush can sit back while the mental heavyweights slug it out for the progressive vote. At press time, organizers have sold about 4,000 tickets to the Coliseum rally at $7 a pop. No corporate sponsors are backing the event; the only way to pay for the venue is to sell 9,500 tickets to pack the house. Other speakers will include the Green Party's vice-presidential candidate Winona LaDuke and state Green Party candidates Lloyd Marbet and Tre Arrow. --Patty Wentz Guilty, Guilty, Guilty One of Portland's longest-running crime mysteries was solved last week when Larry Hurwitz, the former owner of the now-defunct club Starry Night, was convicted by a Multnomah County judge of the murder of Tim Moreau. Moreau, a 21-year-old Reedie who worked as the club's promotions manager, disappeared one night in January 1990, three days after authorities seized 180 counterfeit tickets for a John Lee Hooker concert. He was never seen again. For years, Hurwitz denied all responsibility for Moreau's disappearance and sued WW for libel after a cover story raised questions about his role in the case ("Missing and Presumed Dead," WW, June 21, 1990). For years, it looked as if the mystery would never be solved, as the investigators' leads turned cold. Starry Night closed down, Hurwitz moved to Vietnam to promote rock concerts, and police still had no body. But in 1998, eight years after Moreau disappeared, federal agents tracked down Hurwitz in Vietnam and brought him back to Portland, where he was convicted of tax evasion and sentenced to a year in jail. While Hurwitz was behind bars, investigators got their first big break: a series of tips led them to former Starry Night employee George Castagnola, who confessed that he and Hurwitz killed Moreau after he threatened to expose their role in the ticket scam. According to Castagnola, Hurwitz garroted Moreau in one of the club's hallways and later buried the body in the Columbia Gorge. Last week, Hurwitz pleaded no contest to the charges. "When I heard the judge say, this court finds you guilty of the murder of Tim Moreau on or about January 23, 1990, my heart skipped," says Mike Moreau, Tim's father. "I felt like I'd been holding my breath for 10 years." Prosecutors had originally charged Hurwitz with aggravated murder, but, with the Moreaus' blessing, agreed to reduce the charge to murder in exchange for Hurwitz's help in locating the body. In addition to Deputy DA Norm Frink, the Moreaus credit local journalist Jim Redden for ultimately bringing Hurwitz to justice. Redden, who wrote the WW cover story, penned at least three dozen articles about the case for the now-defunct biweekly PDXS. While some readers thought Redden was tilting at windmills, prosecutor Frink says Redden's articles were helpful in focusing attention on the case. Redden became convinced of Hurwitz's guilt during the libel suit proceedings against him and WW. "As the depositions unfolded, it became clear that he had no remorse whatsoever for Tim," Redden says. "If he hadn't done it, he'd at least express some sympathy for the family. But he was just completely cold." Hurwitz's unsuccessful libel suit also provided prosecutors with a key bit of evidence. In order to claim damages from the WW article, Hurwitz had to present his tax returns--documents that ultimately formed the basis of the tax-evasion charges that brought him back to Portland and led to his murder conviction. --Chris Lydgate   Colossal Milk Carton Portland may be the only American city blessed with a giant rotating loaf of bread and a giant rotating milk carton located within a mile of each other. But if you're driving past the Sunshine Dairy on Northeast 21st Avenue this weekend and notice a jumbo carton-shaped hole in the skyline, do not panic: Portland is not being stalked by a lactose-crazed goliath. The missing carton is merely getting a facelift. The enormous milk container, a symbol of post-war prosperity, has graced the Sunshine Dairy since the 1950s, according to VP/General Manager Paul Arbuthnot, who has worked at Sunshine for 32 years. Admirers of the huge carton know that it's painted as whole milk on two sides and nonfat on the other two. But in the '50s, the carton was cholesterol-laden whole milk all around. "Back then," Arbuthnot says, "there was only one kind of milk." Painters have updated the carton's design three times since it started its rotation, but it has been looking a bit past pull date lately. "The last winters have been tough on it," Arbuthnot says. The new look will still split the carton between two milk-fat percentages and will incorporate a yellow sun. The giant milk will be whisked to a secret location for its makeover and should return to its perch by next week . --Teresa Bergen   Son of Survivor Cue the eerie didjeridu accompaniment: Heather Dade, 27, raised on an Alaskan lakeshore 60 miles from the nearest neighbor, spent her childhood years learning to skin animals and preserve fur that her mother made into mukluks and parkas to sell to Eskimos. Up until age 12, all she knew of city life was the annual plane ride into Fairbanks to go grocery shopping. Great storyline. Even better, it's the truth. Like 60,000 other people, Dade, who works for a Portland ad agency, is dying to unleash her primal prowess on prime time's craftiest sequel. An avid runner and rowing jock, she shot back Survivor's four-page questionnaire along with a three-minute video displaying her wild-child past. The ABC headhunters must have liked what they saw. Last week, they declared her one of only 8,000 official Survivor II semifinalists. This week she flies to Salt Lake City to face the next brutal round of elimination. Dade had been transplanted to Portland by the time she was in 6th grade, but her Jack London childhood seems tailor-made for those up-your-nose camera confessionals--even down to the big bucks question. Yep, folks, though the million would be nice, this babe's doin' it for mom and dad. "To be able to stand up as an adult now, in front of the nation, and make my parents proud of me would be the best," she says. "Not many people would take two kids out into the wilderness and do what they did." In the days before zero-hour, Dade has grown introspective, foraging at Lloyd Center for the perfect Survivor outfit to embellish her "city girl with an inner ruggedness" look and pondering proper Survivor behavior. "At home I sit here and say I would have nothing to do with an alliance," she says. "But after a shortage of food you never know what can happen." As for tonight's Survivor showdown, Dade's already placed her bet. "I'd put my money on Sue," she says. "Everybody hates Rich anyway." --Kelly Clarke   Night Cabbie BY Willie Milkis willie_milkis@hotmail.com CIDER MILL LOUNGE. I walk inside to get my fare, who is about 60 and disabled. He has a walker and seems unable to see well despite a pair of thick glasses. He has a new drink in front of him, so I order a Coke and take the stool next to him. I don't mind waiting when the fare is polite and reasonable, and this guy is both. He also tells a lot of funny stories. He finishes his drink and we head out. On the way to the next bar I ask about his disability. "Well," he tells me, "we were building a high school and I was up high, walking across a plywood plank, and I went right through it. I fell three stories and landed on my head. I woke up a couple of weeks later in the hospital and weighed half what I did before. It was like a crash diet."   Murmurs CAUTION: CONTENTS UNDER PRESSURE* Pension fund manager Jeff Grayson's sudden interest in the competency of his accountants could signal a turning point in the tale of his $160 million in loans to Andrew Wiederhorn. Grayson is reportedly assessing how accurately the accounting firm Moss Adams valued the collateral Wiederhorn put up for the loans. Sources theorize he may be looking for someone to blame, which could indicate a willingness to admit the money, most of which belonged to union pension funds, is gone. * You'd think that Linda K. Johnson would be content with her roles as a modern dance maker, PICA's illustrious Lady Go-dada and executive director of Conduit Contemporary Dance Space. But no. Word is Johnson is now Oregon Ballet Theatre's newly crowned manager of education outreach. Johnson, who did similar work across the river in Vancouver, Wash., will also teach modern dance classes. * Though Regional Arts and Culture Council is sticking to its press release story, locals are buzzing about Executive Director Mike Pippi, who suddenly resigned Aug. 17 to "pursue other interests" after holding the job for less than 10 months. Board Chair Alice Norris dismisses rumors that Pippi had been on probation for the last month, and insists that both sides parted amicably--even though Pippi's sudden decision leaves Portland's leading arts organization in the lurch. * Pavement lead singer Stephen Malkmus is getting set to go solo. Although the Portland musician has denied rumors that his proto-slacker band is breaking up, record label Matador has confirmed that Malkmus will hit the road to support his latest solo album, with Portland rock stalwarts John Moen (The Maroons) and Joanna Bolme (formerly of Jr. High) in tow. * The Portland Police Bureau has to be smarting now that it's been forced to pay $20,000 to Blanchette Villavicencio, a mild-mannered Old Town church employee whom Officer Edward Cummings hauled in, thinking she fit the profile of a mysterious suspect he was seeking. Oops: turns out she sometimes works as a Spanish translator for Old Town cops. * Memo to Officer Keith McQuown of the downtown "Clean and Safe" patrol: We appreciate your efforts to get the street kids to pick up their mess along the MAX stops, but when a nervous young woman politely informs you that the nearest garbage can is full, you can come up with a better response than a gruff, "It's not my job."