Whatever Happened To...

Franklin “Kim” Kimbrough 48

May 22, 2003: The Portland Business Alliance loses its lucrative city parking contract.

WHAT ELSE HAPPENED THAT DAY: Golfer Annika Sorenstam becomes the first woman to play in a men's PGA event in 58 years.

Kimbrough fell a long way when he lost his job with the Portland Business Alliance.

When Kimbrough came to Portland in 2001 to head the newly formed PBA, he was a rising star in the chamber of commerce world. He'd worked his way from Panama City, Fla., to Jackson, Miss., and then St. Louis before landing in Portland. Here, his corporate minders paid him a salary in excess of $200,000, according to former colleagues, and leased him a luxury car.

Kimbrough aggressively criticized then-Mayor Vera Katz and her council colleagues, in a departure from his predecessors' chummy approach. Early on, he had the backing of powerful downtown property owners, such as Melvin "Pete" Mark, whose seven-figure contributions to the Portland Art Museum and Multnomah County Library make him one of the city's best-known philanthropists.

But Kimbrough alienated City Hall and many community leaders and PBA staff—he forbade them to chew gum, eat "foodstuffs" at their desks or smoke during business hours. The height of Kimbrough's influence and his undoing may have come in the same moment. On Jan. 21, 2003, just before a City Council vote on whether to condemn an impeding invasion of Iraq, Kimbrough wrote to commissioners. He urged them not to further "diminish the credibility of the Portland City Council,"

In dovish Portland, that letter led to a backlash and contributed to shattering the mayoral hopes of former peacenik commissioner Jim Francesconi, who had earlier written President Bush urging against invasion but voted Kimbrough's way. Later that year, city commissioners stripped PBA of a lucrative contract to manage city parking garages, blowing a $4 million hole in the group's $11 million budget. By December 2003, Kimbrough was gone—with the PBA providing no explanation. Meantime, the PBA slid into a tailspin from which it has yet to recover fully.

Nine months later, Kimbrough landed a gig as director of the Downtown Improvement Board of Pensacola, Fla., a metro area about one-fifth the size of metro Portland. Working just down the road from Panama City, where his career started, Kimbrough accepted a salary that was a fraction of his Portland paycheck (initially $50,000, a figure later raised to about $100,000, according to the Pensacola News Journal ).

As was his habit while in Portland, Kimbrough did not return WW' s call.

Says Commissioner Erik Sten, who battled regularly with Kimbrough: "I think the message you can take away from his time here is that a 'slash and burn' approach to dealing with City Hall doesn't work."

—Nigel Jaquiss

Mike Mitchell 63

Nov. 30, 1963: Eight days after the JFK assassination, "Louie, Louie" enters the Billboard charts at No. 83.

WHAT ELSE HAPPENED THAT DAY: Shirley MacLaine graces the cover of The Saturday Evening Post for her upcoming film, What a Way to Go!

The Kingsmen recorded their version of Richard Berry's "Louie, Louie" for $36 at a primitive Portland studio. The song lasted six weeks on Billboard's charts, topping out at No. 2, partially thanks to unintelligible lyrics that prompted highly publicized FBI and FCC profanity investigations.

But "Louie, Louie" has outlasted all the controversy, enduring for 44 years as a quintessential party song and inspiring generations of garage bands. "Louie, Louie" was pretty good as well to Mitchell, lead guitarist and founding member of the Kingsmen. The song propelled his five-member band into a handful of other hit singles. "It was always a party," Mitchell says of touring with the Kingsmen. "It still is. My whole life has been that way."

But the party died for a while in the late '80s, when the Kingsmen (who'd undergone various lineup changes) embarked on a lengthy legal battle with record labels to win the rights to "Louie, Louie" and other singles for which the band had never received proper compensation.

By the time the Kingsmen won rights in 1998 to their tunes' masters, they were out "a million plus plus," Mitchell says. But he says owning the tunes has paid those legal fees and been worthwhile because "there have been a half a dozen bands that followed in our footprints and—for free—gotten their royalties back."

Mitchell returned from the California beach to Oregon around 1980 to raise his children. He now lives in Damascus with his wife and is a "stay-at-home dad" for his teenage son and daughter. "We do about 25 to 30 shows a year," he says of the retooled Kingsmen. And despite touring with drummer Dick Peterson for almost 45 years, Mitchell says they still get along fine.

Asked if he's sick of "Louie, Louie," Mitchell offers a quick "nah." "I thought I was getting that way. I had a memory block against the solo, I couldn't even play it." But these days, the Kingsmen have a lot of help performing their early classics. "The kids get up onstage and they sing the song. They sing all of our old songs. They're the show anymore; we just get up and have a lot of fun playing music."

—Casey Jarman

Charles Moose 54

July 23, 1999: Moose, Portland's first African-American police chief, gives his farewell speech to the Portland City Club.

WHAT ELSE HAPPENED THAT DAY: The Woodstock 1999 festival kicks off in upstate New York.

After six tumultuous years, Moose left Portland in 1999 to become chief of police in Montgomery County, Md. Three years later, he became nationally known as the leader of a multiagency task force investigating the D.C.-area sniper shootings that killed 10 people.

He won many people over after tearing up following the shooting of a 13-year-old boy who was on his way to school, but was panned in a USA Today editorial for his emotional outbursts (a theme familiar from his days as Portland's chief). He was also accused by many of withholding crucial information on the suspects from the public.

Moose left the Montgomery County job in 2003 after county ethics officials ruled he couldn't accept an advance for a book he planned to write on the sniper investigation while working for the police department. Moose then traveled the country for several months promoting his book, Three Weeks in October , conducting speaking engagements and book signings.

In spring 2006, the ex-top cop underwent training—as a recruit—with the Honolulu police department, and in November of that year earned his badge as an officer. Moose roamed the streets of Honolulu and other parts of Oahu as a beat cop. "There is frustration at things you would change if you were chief," says Moose's wife, Sandy. "But his goal's not to be chief here."

Now, Moose and his wife have found a new home outside of Honolulu. Moose, a 20-year veteran of the Air National Guard, couldn't be reached for comment, as he's now on active duty as the 15th Security Force Squadron commander at Hickam Air Force Base. Sandy says her husband is happy in Hawaii. They have season tickets to University of Hawaii football games and a Harley-Davidson motorcycle. According to her, "Life is great, and we don't have any regrets."

Asked if they keep up with people and events in Portland, Sandy replied: "We did get contacted a couple of times. People wanted to see if he wanted to come back and run for mayor."

She says he isn't thinking about it.

—Jonah Sandford

James DePreist 71

Nov. 10, 2005: President Bush awards DePreist the National Medal of the Arts, the nation's highest honor for artistic excellence.

WHAT ELSE HAPPENED THAT DAY: Comedian Richard Pryor dies.

Since leaving the Oregon Symphony in 2004 after 23 years, James DePreist hasn't exactly retired. And you'd think after directing the Oregon Symphony, as well as Sweden's Malmö Symphony, L'Orchestre Philharmonique de Monte Carlo and the Tokyo Metropolitan Symphony Orchestra simultaneously, DePreist would be ready for a break.

"There was never in my mind any idea of talking about retirement," says DePreist, who lives in Scottsdale, Ariz., with his wife, Bonnie.

Since 2004, he has been the director of conducting and orchestral studies at the Juilliard School in New York City, where he lives four and a half months out of the year. There, DePreist guides four or five students through a two-year master's program, introducing them to the standard repertoire in conducting.

"I don't select conductors who are looking to be told what to do. Conductors have something to say, and I want to enable them to say what they have to say, either musically or gesturally," he says.

DePreist also continues as the permanent conductor of the Tokyo Metropolitan Symphony Orchestra, a commitment that requires him to travel to Tokyo twice a year for two to three weeks at a time. He also directs the Oregon Symphony once a year as laureate music director.

While DePreist says he and Bonnie "theoretically" live in Scottsdale, his global commitments require him to be on the road about 15 weeks a year. Portland still holds a special place for DePreist.

"I've been very fortunate to have had the chance to live in Portland all those years," DePreist says. "Each time we come there for the one week that I've been [with the Oregon Symphony], it's as if we have never left."

—Amanda Waldroupe

Stephanie G. Pierce “Really old” is all she’ll cop to.

Jan. 7, 1990: Pierce's 24 Hour Church of Elvis is featured in the

.

WHAT ELSE HAPPENED THAT DAY: The Leaning Tower of Pisa closes to the public for the first time in 800 years after leaning too far.

Portland's famous 24 Hour Church of Elvis has been closed for nearly six years. But Pierce, the church's founder, high priestess and sometime resident, is still searching to find a new home for the establishment.

The 24 Hour Church of Elvis—which was neither a church, nor open 24 hours, nor dedicated to Elvis—was a coin-operated art gallery dedicated to Americana. But Pierce says she called it the 24 Hour Church of Elvis because her first fan letter requested she name it the "Elvis Window." Pierce hates Elvis, but conceded, "We might as well worship the things we can't get rid of: Elvis, plastic, and Styrofoam."

From 1984 to 2002, Pierce conducted more than 300 legal weddings for $25 each and thousands of "cheap, not legal" $5 weddings just for fun, and even more $1 coin-operated weddings (which yielded a packet of rice, a plastic ring, and tiny vows). Pierce also dispensed tiny books, trinkets and pieces of advice from the coin-operated machine and sold T-shirts from the church's three consecutive locations downtown.

After examining more than 50 locations downtown, Pierce may be nearing the end of her quest to reopen her beloved church. Pierce, who currently works the phones at a customer-service hotline, says she'll take the Oregon Bar exam in July and pursue environmental law if she doesn't find a space for the church soon.

"I'm not making any money, no one is using my website [24hourchurchofelvis.com], and I'm getting old and it's ridiculous," said Pierce, who records show graduated from Georgetown University Law School in 1980.

However, law is just a back-up. The homeless 24 Hour Church of Elvis is still Pierce's true love. But Pierce claims landlords won't rent space to her church because it's not upscale and attracts homeless people.

"The things that used to make Portland work are being squeezed out," says Pierce, referring to her church and possibly herself. "I used to feel like a citizen of Portland. Not anymore."

—Rachel Schiff

Brandon Brooks 26

March 12, 2000: Brooks scores 21 points to lead undefeated Jefferson High School to a 58-44 win over Tualatin for the state boys' basketball title.

WHAT ELSE HAPPENED THAT DAY : Portland Family Entertainment announces it's bringing AAA baseball back to Portland.

A decade ago, Brooks was the brightest star in Portland's high-school hoops world.

In consecutive games in 1998, the then-sophomore at Grant High scored 60 and 58 points. In the first of those two games, he schooled rival Salim Stoudamire, who now plays for the NBA's Atlanta Hawks.

"Brandon Brooks could play in the Pac-10 right now," local hoops guru Howard Avery told WW at the time. "He could start for the University of Oregon and be better than any guard they've got."

But Brooks was as troubled as he was talented. Grant was his third high school in two years. WW' s story ("The Education of Brandon Brooks," March 4, 1998) included context about Brooks' academic struggles that made a far larger impact than his scoring average: When WW reported that players in the Portland Interscholastic League needed to pass only five classes, which meant they could get five D's and two F's or a 0.71 GPA, the Portland School Board reacted by raising the minimum standard in the PIL to a 2.0 GPA, or C average.

That tripped up Brooks, who moved on to Jefferson for his junior year and struggled with eligibility. In his senior season, however, he led the Democrats to the school's first boys' basketball state championship since 1972. Brooks had made himself into a demonic defender and pinpoint passer whose speed and intensity wowed college recruiters.

After signing with Arizona State but failing to meet the academic requirements, Brooks played for two community colleges before ending up at USC. But in practice on Jan 14, 2003, Brooks' career came to an abrupt end when he broke his left leg and badly twisted his ankle coming down from a rebound.

Brooks made headlines the following year when, at the NBA All-Star rookie dunk contest, he threw a pass to contestant and fellow Portlander Fred Jones from four rows deep in the stands. Like his career arc, however, Brooks' pass to Jones dazzled but ended unsuccessfully, with a missed dunk.

And the young man who was once in the Gifted&Talented Education program at Vernon Elementary? Brooks limped away from USC without a diploma.

Brooks could not be reached for this story. The woman who raised him—his grandmother, Mae Brooks—will say only he's living elsewhere.

—Nigel Jaquiss

Jeff Grayson 65

Oct. 2, 2001: The feds indict Grayson on fraud charges.

WHAT ELSE HAPPENED THAT DAY: A Portland hospital settles with Jose Mejia Poot's family after police fatally shot him on hospital premises.

For three decades, union pension fund manager Grayson was Portland's go-to money man.

Although multiple sclerosis confined him to a motorized wheelchair when he was 38, Grayson provided financing to high-profile businessmen such as real-estate developer Homer Williams, travel-agency owner (and soon-to-be 2008 mayoral candidate) Sho Dozono, and shipyard owner Frank Foti.

Grayson was Portland's banker of last resort—a creative, hard-nosed financier who, if the returns were attractive enough—would find a way to invest his clients' money in virtually any deal, from a troubled Australian winery to a discovery center in Yellowstone Park to used airplanes.

"We don't take collateral that eats or shits," Grayson told WW in 2000 (see "The End of a Legend," WW , June 28, 2000), "but we'll take just about anything else."

In a city where the wealthy hike the Gorge for entertainment and drive Priuses, Grayson for years conspicuously occupied front-row Blazers seats and cruised the city in a chauffeur-driven Bentley.

But in 1998, WW provided the first glimpse into the relationship that would lead to the largest union pension fraud in U.S. history: Grayson's loans to a young financier named Andy Wiederhorn (see "Trouble with a Capital T," WW , Oct. 28, 1998).

Ultimately, Grayson bet more than $160 million of union workers' retirement money on Wiederhorn's company, which went bankrupt. The federal Department of Labor, which had previously disciplined Grayson, initiated an investigation into the relationship between the two men. The results sent both Wiederhorn and Grayson's son and protégé, Barclay Grayson, to federal prison.

But for Grayson himself, the karmic punishment was harsher. In April 2002, he agreed to cooperate with federal investigators and pleaded guilty to fraud. But before he could be sentenced, he suffered a serious stroke that left him unable to communicate.

Since then, his son, Wiederhorn and two other men have finished their prison terms. But Grayson, now 65, will live out his days in the westside convalescent center that has been his home since the stroke. Grayson's brother Joel (a Portland lawyer), and his son, Barclay, declined to answer questions.

—Nigel Jaquiss

JZ Knight 35,061

Feb. 7, 1977: Knight begins channeling a 35,000-year-old warrior spirit and goes on to found the Ramtha School of Enlightenment in tiny Yelm, Wash., south of Olympia. (She is later featured in 2004's

, which is set in Portland.)

WHAT ELSE HAPPENED THAT DAY: President Carter called for "concerted international action" against drug abuse.

Following the cult success of its role in What the #$*! Do We Know?! (see "What the #$*! is Ramtha?," WW, Dec. 22, 2004), JZ Knight's Ramtha School began an unusual public-relations campaign aimed at winning over its neighbors and expanding its influence.

In July 2006, the 5,000-student school invited the local newspaper publisher and Yelm City Council to a three-day "fabulous wealth" retreat; all reportedly declined. And the school has also begun taking out newspaper ads touting its students' economic impact on the community.

The latest "quarterly report" says 670 Ramtha students spent $167,945 in Thurston County (not counting their tuition) this summer, and thanks local businesses for their support.

JZ Knight's buy-local kick is a complement to her more quiet campaign to stop the rapid growth in Yelm, a quaint little burg of 5,000 people (about one-fifth of whom are current or former Ramtha students) that's begun to attract big-box retail and large residential developments. Knight is opposed to an update of the town's comprehensive plan that would bring development and traffic and drain scarce water resources.

Keith Moxton, a Seattle land-use attorney who's been representing Knight, says, "She's been putting a fair amount of energy into this." Ramtha students have also grown more active in local politics. In 2005, Steve Klein, the school's event services manager, challenged Ron Harding in the Yelm mayor's race. Despite spending $50,000 on the race to Harding's $15,000, Klein captured only 21 percent of the vote. Another Ramtha student, Jean Marie Christenson, has announced a second run for state representative next year.

The school's PR efforts have also demanded some pushback against ex-members who've chosen not to abide by their nondisclosure agreements. On Dec. 1, a group of former Knight devotees called Life After RSE held the latest in a series of anti-cult community forums at Yelm Middle School. Klein wrote the Nisqually Valley News with a list of 17 students who had a positive take on Knight, including Ugly Betty star Salma Hayek and 2006 World Series of Poker competitor James Flick, who won $90,713 in Vegas.

Ramtha would be proud.

—Corey Pein

Susan Kuhnhausen 52

Sept. 6, 2006: Kuhnhausen kills a hitman hired by her husband of 18 years.

WHAT ELSE HAPPENED THAT DAY: President Bush admits for the first time the existence of secret CIA prisons for alleged terrorists.

On the day Susan Kuhnhausen was slated to die, she worked a full day as an emergency-room nurse at Providence Portland Medical Center in Northeast Portland and got a haircut. She was preparing to leave town for a nursing conference, and she had recently asked her estranged husband, Michael, from whom she had been separated for a year, to take care of her cats.

But when Kuhnhausen arrived at her $300,000 house in Southeast Portland's Montavilla neighborhood and entered the password to her security alarm (the date of her wedding in Reno, Nev., 18 years earlier), she discovered a strange man in her home, holding a claw hammer.

The man, Edward Haffey, a 58-year-old former custodian at Fantasy Adult Video, was there to kill her. Instead, in what police called an act of self-defense, she killed Haffey by strangling him until he turned blue. "Tell me who sent you, and I'll call you a fucking ambulance," she told the intruder, according to court documents.

Days later, police arrested Michael Kuhnhausen, then 58, as he was driving in Clackamas County.

In August 2007, Michael Kuhnhausen was sentenced to 10 years in prison for conspiring to commit aggravated murder and attempted murder with the help of Haffey, whom Michael Kuhnhausen had once hired to work at Fantasy Video. For a number of years, Michael Kuhnhausen had been a custodial supervisor at the video store.

Today, Michael Kuhnhausen is serving his sentence at the Snake River Correctional Institution in Ontario.

As of December 2007, Susan Kuhnhausen was awaiting resolution of the civil lawsuit she filed against her estranged husband in Multnomah County Circuit Court for $1 million. Kuhnhausen is seeking damages for "the injuries and emotional trauma she suffered during the attack."

Meanwhile, the emergency-room nurse continues to work at Providence hospital. Despite numerous requests from media outlets across the globe, she has declined all interviews.

—Beth Slovic

WWeek 2015