[This editorial appeared on September 16, 2010, in the Pasadena Star News and related San Gabriel Valley News papers. It's nice to know that someone with a voice has some sense.]
We've reported since late last year on the odd way popular former South Pasadena police Chief Dan Watson was removed from his job - or, as the city would have it, did not have his contract renewed. He was recently hired as police chief by the town of Mammoth Lakes.
In theory, the appointed city manager, rather than the elected City Council, appoints chiefs of police. But we've also reported on the strong public perception in South Pasadena that the Watson resignation and the looming - and now, as of Wednesday night, actual - appointment of a retired former South Pasadena sergeant, Joe Payne, was engineered by council members, many of whom have known Payne for decades, not by relatively new City Manager John Davidson.
Because personnel issues are discussed in closed sessions, it will remain hard to prove much about whether a putsch was engineered in South Pasadena. But we certainly know that the council abused California's open-meeting laws when it met with Payne and another chief candidate using the ruse of an executive session labeled "performance evaluation of the city manager." A leading open-government expert said that fudging of the facts violates California's Brown Act.
Joe Payne is well-known and well-liked in South Pasadena, his hometown even after he left the force. If his appointment sticks, he may well be an excellent chief - we hope so. But community concerns about the whole process deserve to be addressed by City Hall.
Citizens know that, whether or not Payne will really be a pushover for the salary demands of the union he belonged to for decades, he was recently glowingly profiled in a city employees' union newsletter as a "stalwart" and a "workhorse." They know that four of five council members - the principled exception being Richard Schneider - were behind the move to dump Watson by "inviting him to reapply for his job," a dishonor he declined. They know that, though Payne indeed served the department for a long time, it's highly unusual for a policeman who's never been in senior management ranks to take over a department, even in a small town. South Pas has 25,000 residents, for instance; Sierra Madre about 11,000. Yet when the latter hired Marilyn Diaz as chief, she came as a commander from the Pasadena Police Department.
Come clean, South Pasadena. Confession is good for the soul.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Friday, August 6, 2010
My Kind of Town
I was enlisted to fly to Chicago to teach two one-hour classes. Things got off to a good start when I misplaced my car keys with just enough time to head for the airport. Luckily, I found the backups. Got to the airport. Long lines to check bags at American, but none were moving. I have no idea what these counter people were doing to go so slow. An agent tells me there are shorter lines at the other end. She's right, but they were moving even slower. Takes me a full hour to get checked in and through security.
We get on the plane a little late and when we're all on and ready to go the pilot announces that the navigation computer isn't working right. We sit for an hour while they fix it. At some point, some people get up and head for the front of the plane. The attendants announced that people should sit down, but apparently some got off. Finally we taxi out to the runway. But then, we pull off to the side. The captain explains that because some people got off, they have to recalculate the weight and fuel. We wait, and wait, and wait. The captain is pissed, "I'm not getting the information I need to take off," he tells us. Then they have the attendants come out and hand count the passengers. I mean come on. If you knew it was important why didn't you count the ones who got off? Why did you let them get off in the first place? Who knows what's going on? Maybe they had to retrieve their bags or something. After about 45 more minutes of sitting by the side of the taxiway, we finally get to leave. When I ask out loud if they can go over the safety instructions again, no one laughs. And don't expect free drinks anymore when this kind of stuff happens. These planes don't carry enough food and drink to go around. They routinely run out of the "food" they're selling.
When we arrive in Chicago two-and-a-half hours late, we learn that there's no gate for us. That's another twenty minutes. I look at the news on my Blackberry. Seven dogs dead on American Airlines flight to Chicago earlier that morning. This is not AA's day. Or maybe it's their usual, I don't know. As we get off, the captain announces that our bags will be at carousel 5. Our flight is not on the monitors at the baggage claim. I ask an agent and she tells me that our bags will probably come out on carousel 7. She doesn't tell all the other passengers that. Why bother? She also tells me that the monitors are broken. After probably 45 minutes I see that our bags are coming out on carousel 7. After I get mine, I go back and tell the others who are waiting at 5 to go to 7. For a moment, I'm in control of the baggage area. Is there a work slowdown at American?
But that's not the story. The story is how the big 300 pound guy, who looked like he had no business walking into a Hyatt Regency, jumped in between my friend and his wife as we're walking into the revolving door at our hotel after dinner. The guy blocks the door with his foot and starts pounding on the glass. My friend is trapped inside the door, and I'm in the back, exposed to the street, but there are two guys behind me. At first I think the guy who's blocking the door is crazy and he's throwing some kind of weird tantrum. But then the guys behind me are kind of getting up too close to me and telling me to push on the door with both hands as hard as I can, as if this happens all the time and they know just what the cure is. This makes little sense to me. In split seconds, I'm trying to decide if the door is broken and the crazy guy is trying to help fix it, but I keep seeing he's blocking it. "He's blocking the door," I say. The guys behind me keep telling me to push with both hands. But I realize it would be futile, and I also realize that I have no particular need to get through this door, so I say, "Why would I do that?" and step aside and over to one of the regular doors. Only when I'm in the lobby and they are gone do I realize that this was all about picking my pockets, but they didn't get anything. I don't leave things that exposed, and I never committed both hands to pushing the door as they wanted me to.
Well I'm glad their little plot was foiled and I didn't have to spend today in Chicago trying to figure out how to fly without identification or money. These guys seemed like amateurs. I could give them some tips on what they did wrong, but I'll save that for another day.
We get on the plane a little late and when we're all on and ready to go the pilot announces that the navigation computer isn't working right. We sit for an hour while they fix it. At some point, some people get up and head for the front of the plane. The attendants announced that people should sit down, but apparently some got off. Finally we taxi out to the runway. But then, we pull off to the side. The captain explains that because some people got off, they have to recalculate the weight and fuel. We wait, and wait, and wait. The captain is pissed, "I'm not getting the information I need to take off," he tells us. Then they have the attendants come out and hand count the passengers. I mean come on. If you knew it was important why didn't you count the ones who got off? Why did you let them get off in the first place? Who knows what's going on? Maybe they had to retrieve their bags or something. After about 45 more minutes of sitting by the side of the taxiway, we finally get to leave. When I ask out loud if they can go over the safety instructions again, no one laughs. And don't expect free drinks anymore when this kind of stuff happens. These planes don't carry enough food and drink to go around. They routinely run out of the "food" they're selling.
When we arrive in Chicago two-and-a-half hours late, we learn that there's no gate for us. That's another twenty minutes. I look at the news on my Blackberry. Seven dogs dead on American Airlines flight to Chicago earlier that morning. This is not AA's day. Or maybe it's their usual, I don't know. As we get off, the captain announces that our bags will be at carousel 5. Our flight is not on the monitors at the baggage claim. I ask an agent and she tells me that our bags will probably come out on carousel 7. She doesn't tell all the other passengers that. Why bother? She also tells me that the monitors are broken. After probably 45 minutes I see that our bags are coming out on carousel 7. After I get mine, I go back and tell the others who are waiting at 5 to go to 7. For a moment, I'm in control of the baggage area. Is there a work slowdown at American?
Friday, July 30, 2010
It's My Birthday Too, Yeah!
My friend Dixie Jane, mother of Laurie over at Glimpses of South Pasadena, wrote this lovely poem for me today, and I just had to share!
Thanks again, DJ!
Let the celebration get started
And the banners all unfurl
Tomorrow is a day to remember
It's the birthday of Mister Earl.
Dixie Jane would not find a new beau
She's just not that sort of a girl
But she would fly the miles it would take
For a dance with Mister Earl.
It's memories you'll make
With champagne and cake
As we give the dance floor a twirl
Happy Birthday, dear friend, and many, many more
To the man we call Mister Earl.
Thanks again, DJ!
Let the celebration get started
And the banners all unfurl
Tomorrow is a day to remember
It's the birthday of Mister Earl.
Dixie Jane would not find a new beau
She's just not that sort of a girl
But she would fly the miles it would take
For a dance with Mister Earl.
It's memories you'll make
With champagne and cake
As we give the dance floor a twirl
Happy Birthday, dear friend, and many, many more
To the man we call Mister Earl.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Save Hahamongna
On July 12, the Pasadena City Council will consider whether or not to build soccer fields in Hahamongna Watershed Park. We oppose the building of these soccer fields. Hahmongna is a watershed that should remain in its natural state. Soccer fields can be placed anywhere. A watershed like this cannot be replaced.For more information please look at these websites:
Many bloggers all over the San Gabriel Valley agree that Hahamongna must be saved. Here are the links for some of them:
Monday, July 5, 2010
Fifth of July
looking out the fishbowlat this beethoven bust
ever since the canine
no one's looking at us
but i bet with a running start
we could leap out of the water
a two foot drop to the oriental rug
and no one would be bothered
we could flip and flop across the hardwood floor
hold our breath through the lawn
the bust now sits where a globe used to be
canada should be at the end of this street
and lake louise is where i want to be
it's the fifth of july
feeling independent
please step aside
the celebration's over
we're now on our own for the first of our lives
on the fifth of july
now what
looking out the kennel
at the dying oak tree
ever since the newborn
no one's looking at me
but i bet with these incisors
i could gnaw through this lead
a two mile run to the county line
a two state run to the sea
i could run through the briars and the brambles
where a rabbit wouldn't go
so fast the hounds couldn't catch me
like a johnny horton show
and anywhere is where i wanna be
it's the fifth of july
feeling independent
please step aside
the celebration's over
we're now on our own for the first of our lives
on the fifth of july
now what
one if by land
two if by sea
three if by phone or facsimile
four if by plane
five if by boat
six if bilingual
seven by goat
eight by ten glossies of me
looking out the bedroom
at the snowy tv
ever since commencement
no one's asking 'bout me
but i bet before the night falls
i could catch the late bus
take small provisions and this beethoven bust
i could find work in the outskirts of the city
eat some fish on the way
befriend an old dog for a roadside pal
find a nice couch to stay
a pull sofa, if you please
it's the fifth of july
feeling independent
please step aside
the celebration's over
we're now on our own for the first of our lives
on the fifth of july
now what
feeling independent
please step aside
the celebration's over
we're now on our own for the first of our lives
on the fifth of july
now what
FIFTH OF JULY
by Eddie from Ohio - A folk-rock band from Virginia
Artwork by Suzanne Thiel, Lansing, Michigan
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Comerica Bank Restoration Update
The bank as it looked from circa 1960 to 2009. The clock, over what once was and is now again the main entrance, continued to operate. This was a branch of Security Pacific Bank at some point, but I don't recall that it was used for anything but a furniture store since I arrived in South Pasadena in 1981.
In this photo, taken June 20, 2010, the restoration is complete, and the palm trees have been planted. 
The one thing they didn't get right in the restoration is the ATM machine, which was much more understated in the 1920s.
In 1920, the First National Bank building on the corner of Fair Oaks and Mission in South Pasadena looked like this. Notice the streetcar tracks in the middle of Fair Oaks:
A careful examination of the back of the building reveals that the stonework is a facade. I presume the original stonework was a facade as well. The folks at the bank say they will display a photo of the 1920 bank on their wall soon. Comerica is only using the front portion of the building. They plan to lease out the rear portion, although from the looks of the raised concrete slab and the concrete room in the center of the rear space, the lessee will have a lot of jack-hammering to do.
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