Watching City Hall #401 (10-25-05)
“Revenge is the lowest form of communications other than torture.”
(Krissy Keefer evaluates my Elsbernd Recall efforts)
Leave it to a dancer to put things into perspective. Krissy’s observation and Gonzo’s evaluation of my weekend project considering an attack upon the power of the Mayor through a payback for his double-cross of Tony Hall … their thoughts pretty much brought it down. Oh, I had a hell of a weekend. On friday alone, I got to call upon Annemarie Conroy to resign (she had no comment other than a dropped jaw), taught the Mayor basic fire technology in 15 seconds: “Water weighs 8.3 lbs per gallon. You’re people don’t know this … ” blah, blah. I offered to help save Brugmann’s Guardian with a free weekly comedy column: “Don’t tell Redmond or it will never happen.” Launched out upon Leno: “You promised me you’d legalize prostitution. Why am I still buying my whores off the street?” (not true, but it proved a real attention grabber at the latest ‘Third Fridy’ art opening in Ross’s office) I chewed out Daly, Peskin & Mirkarimi for refusing to endorse me for the Police Commission: “We’d support you if you were a Latino.” … That’s a little too stream-of-consciousness. Let me back up, slow down and tell you how the weekend began and how it eventually all played out.
Recalling Elsbernd
As Krissy noted, would essentially be an act of revenge for something he may not have done. When I floated the idea in last week’s column, I didn’t expect the avalanche of mail and calls I’d get supporting Tony Hall. People furious with the Mayor. People who voted for Gavin who were now furious with him over the Hall debacle. An aside:
Why do people go crazy on Treasure Island?
My theory is that the place is built on an Indian burial ground or something like that. It’s the only thing that accounts for what happens to normal people who spend any time at all there. They are stricken with what’s becoming known simply as: ‘Treasure Island Fever’. Consider just a few cases in which perfectly sane and productive and sober individuals have fallen to pieces while under the eerie glow of that cursed atoll.
1. Consider Wendy Linka. A hard working, modest City employee. Casual acquaintance of the Mayor at that time. Who knew when she took the grueling assignment of not only living in Admiral Nimitz’s mansion on the island … not only living there, but planning parties. Who knew that she’d end up running screaming into the night in her negligee’ pursued by a detachment of U.S. Navy Special Forces Frog Men? Really, who could have predicted that? Why, it took $75,000 cash to calm Wendy down. That, and, of course … a new job with the Port on the mainland.
2. Consider the case of Annemarie Conroy. An ambitious go-getter. Goddaughter of a former Mayor. A great education. What happens to her on Treasure Island? Well, as best can be deduced, she seems to have spent 6 years sitting in a swivel chair, shooting rubber bands against a wall and typing the same thing over and over on her typewriter:
“I must get more money to Darius Andersen.”
“I must get more money to Darius Andersen.”
“I must get more money to Darius Andersen.”
“I must get more money to Darius Andersen.”
Unfortunately, unlike Linka, it was too late to save Conroy. She came to imagine herself in the most grandiose roles. For awhile she pretended to be a Supervisor but the voters told her that, ‘no’ she couldn’t be a Supervisor. Yes, a Supervisor who didn’t supervise. A development manager who didn’t develop. … Lately, she’s taken to appearing in public and announcing that she’s the new ‘Director of the Office of Emergency Services’. “I’m in charge of everyone here!” she screams to all who will listen. “They all answer to me. The Police Chief. The Fire Chief. They all answer to me. When disaster strikes this great City, I am the one everyone will turn to for leadership!” It’s all very sad, really.
3. Then, there’s the case of Stephanie Coyote. She got a really bad case of Treasure Island Fever and started imagining that she actually owned the island. She started giving things away. Free rent for entire Hollywood production companies. Things like that. Shit, she even wrote a nice little check to herself one day. Trouble was, it wasn’t on her own bank account. It was on the City’s.
Now, that could have happened to anyone. I can’t tell you how many times I get all my check books mixed up and sometimes fill out checks made out to myself on other people’s accounts. That’s happened to you, right? Didn’t you do some time for that, as a matter of fact?
Stephanie won’t do any time, of course. No. She was allowed to make restitution and call it just a “misunderstanding”. You tell that shit to a judge. … Not only won’t she be arrested but, … the Mayor fired the staffer who brought the ‘accident’ to the attention of the City Controller. So much for Gavin’s much heralded ‘Whistle Blower Protection’.
That’s where this all comes back together, folks. It’s all about Tony Hall and the lies and insinuations the Mayor’s henchmen spread about him. They friggin’ simply made things up to get rid of Tony. Imagine what they’d have done if they found he’d written a check to himself out of City funds? Why, they’d have crucified the guy! They did anyway. And, when he asked who accused him of wrongdoing, they screamed: “It sure wasn’t Matt Franklin. Uh, we mean, it wasn’t Michael Cohen. … Or, what we meant to say really was that it wasn’t Jesse Blout. And, if it was any of those people. Even if the smear they laid on you was a pack of lies, we’re going to protect them because they’re protected by our ‘whistleblower protection’ policy which applies to everyone who attacks our enemies. … Of course, it doesn’t apply to anyone who blows the whistle on people we like. You know, like for instance, it wouldn’t apply to the person who turned in Stephanie Coyote because she’s like, you know, got all these Hollywood connections and stuff.”
So, I tested the waters for an Elsbernd Recall
As I said, it started as a kind of joke. Another ploy to get the Panhandle bath opened for my granddaughter. The column went up in the Murphy/Thomas Sentinel friday morning and by the time I got to our weekly salon, I’d gotten a half dozen emails and calls applauding the idea of recalling Sean and giving Tony his old job back. I broached the topic over tacos and beer to my posse and the idea took off and was researched and developed for the next 48 hours. I think it’s instructive to follow how quickly things like this get around in San Francisco.
Ross’s party
On the way into Mirkarimi’s monthly blast, I stuck my head into Elsbernd’s office which is next door to Ross’s. “How many signatures do we need for a recall of your supervisor?” I called out.
That brought Sean, himself out of the back room. “Why are attacking me?” he inquired. I explained that he and the Mayor hadn’t helped me on the Panhandle bath issue and that I was going to waste their time and resources until they rehabilitated the existing bath. “You’d abandon the recall?” he asked. I assured him: “I’ll turn around and double-cross the effort and condemn it. I’m just like you.” (of course, there really was no effort at the moment)
Ross’s gathering was great. He had the art of a prominent member of the Milk Club (damned if I can remember his name but he paints great tits) … the guy must be a heavy hitter cause everyone from Gavin to Leno to Bruggman, Daly (there to talk about pot legislation but Ross was late & he missed him), Peskin, Dufty, Debra Walker, Krissy Keefer, Julian Davis, Marc Salomon, Ron Arnow … just to name a few of the players who made the scene. I brought Savannah Blackwell who was the instant star of the gathering. Ross’s lady, Evelyn Nieves, Station Chief for Washington Post was in town after a week of living on an Indian reservation on the Mexican border for a piece she’s doing.
I circled and bitched and blustered and drank red wine and pushed agendas and flirted shamelessly with women and men alike. Daly and Mirkarimi and Peskin all told me separately that they wouldn’t back me for the Police Commission because I’m not a Latino. I breathed a secret sigh of relief but nevertheless ranted about how they were reasoning like Newsom. They needed to send a message to the cops. They needed a pit bull, not a poodle. Here they had an entire department in need of a complete overhaul. A department where the commission overseeing its President says she thinks they don’t have enough to do and should quit meeting so often.
Honest to God, Louise Renne said that. It’s insane. Not only should they not meet less, they should meet much more. They need specifically charged committees to deal with things like why the cops refuse to patrol on foot (I watched a cop - Badge 1878 - drive right through the center of the UN Plaza farmers market the other day - right through the crowd - right past walking beats of Federal Marshals and Homeland Security foot patrols - asked why he even needed to be there at all, particularly in his car which was insane - asked why he had to be here when there were already plenty of cops, he replied: “They’re not SFPD!” - what a bunch of pricks!) … foot patrols. We gotta recruit in the City and have to require cops to live here even it means changing state law. We need hearings on the cops relationship to Homeland Security and the DEA. We have to force them to keep cops in the same precincts for their entire careers and move them only for reasons of promotion or discipline.
All of San Francisco realizes that the cops have become disconnected from us. Even with their complete cooperation, it will take a decade or more to reform the department. It must be done. The failure of the department is felt worst in the poorest neighborhoods. Wealthy neighborhoods and businesses hire their own security to fill the gap left when SFPD disconnects. My buddy, Jens, at the Edgeworth Hotel on O’Farrell cannot hire cops to clear the dealers from under his window (yeah, they’re back big time - again, failure of Tenderloin station).
I’m off track here. I wanted to lead you through the Progressive world with an idea as it develops. Along the way, I may get distracted. You just ignore that.
So, let me recap. The Recall idea started as a joke. It immediately was obvious that it had become a trial balloon. That all happened within 2 hours. Another couple of hours passed and the lunch crowd turned the idea up and down and sideways and thought it had enough possibilities to play around with. We framed a few questions:
1. How many signatures would we need to have a Recall election?
2. How much would it cost to gather those signatures?
3. Is it like the Davis Recall? Could D-7 choose a new supe (or an ‘old’ one) on same ballot?
4. Would Tony be interested?
5. What’s Gonzalez think?
6. What’s my ‘A’ list think?
The answers came over the next couple of days. You’d need 4,400 (10% of registered voters) signatures, but you gather 7,000 to be on the safe side. It would cost around 10 grand at 1.50 a signature. It’s not like the Davis Recall. You can only vote Elsbernd out. You can’t vote Tony back in at the same time. Then, Gavin gets to appoint another supe who’d serve til the next year at which time … da da, da da, da da. … Tony was flattered but made no commitment. I left a message for Gonzo. Then, the ‘A’ list began responding.
1. Krissy Keefer sent the lines opening the column about revenge being low life.
2. Gerry said it sounded “petty” … “vindictive”
3. An ex-SFPD command officer said: “I thought you liked Sean. What did he do to deserve this?”
Most of the email ran in that tone. The wonks weighed in with the nuts and bolts of the scheme and mostly shrugged as to whether it was worth the effort. Then, Sunday Matt called and, except for when he’s talking about running for office, I yield to his strategic political thinking on most matters. “It’s a bad idea.” said the Progressive Capo. “And, Sean’s getting married. Wish him luck.” My people are more ethical, moral and kind than me. They never cease to amaze me. And …
Good luck, Sean.
Jensisms and other things
“I only have so many orifices.”
(Jens upon being offered a joint while holding beer bottle & pipe)
“You shouldn’t have to be afraid of the police.”
(Jens)
“When we get to hell, I’ll buy the drinks.”
(’Firestarter’ - sidewalk rapper in front of Great American)
Jens is the most gracious host I’ve ever seen. I mean, what can you say about a guy who drinks with his guests so long that he has to crawl on the floor to see them out the door? Now, that’s real friendship. I’ve been partying with him for 30 years or so now and he is one quip after another. I’m forever making quick notes on little pieces of paper and sorting them (as I am now) when I go to write next.
“Masturbation is the great equalizer.”
(Jens)
“The battle is more important than the objective to him.”
(a salonite viewing Marc Salomon)
“You’re all Barbie & GI Joe in my life.
I love them, but I need to control them.”
(Rachel)
“Your appointments should move the world forward.
Not just satisfy some arbitrary orientation.”
(Rachel to the Board)
“Wanna play horseshoes?”
(Jens to new visitor to his small SRO room)
“Sometimes I feel like I’m on the Gong Show
and, … it’s time to hit the gong!”
(an old Aaron Peskin line, sadly, still relevant)
You heard the man.
