Isaac Laquedem

The Oregonian strikes a blow against ageism

The business section of today's Oregonian reprints an AP story on the fall of Franklin D. Raines.  Two months ago he "swore to Congress that the organization's accounting practices were beyond reproach," says the Big O, and when the dreaded "accounting irregularities" cropped up (they're the business world's analogue to the "irreconciliable differences" of the divorce courts), he resigned on December 21.

The Oregonian tagged the story with the headline, "Collapse of Fannie Mae rising star stuns friends," implying that Mr. Raines -- by all accounts an intelligent and industrious man -- is a wunderkind, advanced beyond his years.  How old is he?  The article doesn't say, but a few seconds' search of other stories reveals that he will turn 56 in January. 

One of our local politicians has said that "Forty is too old to be 'showing promise.'"  Congratulations to the Oregonian for disagreeing, and saying that 55 is not too old to be a rising star.  There's hope for me yet.

Sauce for the goose . . .

At the request of a group of St. Johns business owners, the City Council voted 4-0 to ask the OLCC to restrict beer and wine sales in the St. Johns commercial district.  Jack Bog and John Dunshee (author of the Just Some Poor Schmuck blog) are politely disagreeing about this; Mr. Dunshee calls the council's vote a display of "Big Mommy knows best," while Jack says that the council is simply trying to "run the drunken bums out of the neighborhood," something he believes Mr. Dunshee should support.  [As Jack points out in the comments, he used the words "drunken bums" not to express his own opinion but to echo Mr. Dunshee's use of the word "bum" to describe the man who was shot to death last week downtown.)

I think they agree that a commercial area is unattractive and in fact scary to shoppers if people who are drunk on malt liquor or cheap wine are stumbling up and down the streets (no one seems bothered by the expensive drunks -- people who overimbibe the expensive '73 Bordeaux -- or the yuppified ones, maybe because it's impossible to stomach enough Campari in one sitting to get stonkered), but they disagree on the solution -- they may even disagree on whether the city should solve the problem.   I read Jack to say that the city could reasonably cut off the supply of malt liquor and wine to reduce the number of public drunks.  Mr. Dunshee is saying, I think, that people are responsible for what they buy and drink, and the city might pursue the drunks but should not stop the merchants from selling what their neighbors are willing to buy.  I read their dialogue as a classic supply-side versus demand-side argument.  Professor Bogdanski and the city council want to cut off the supply; Mr. Dunshee wants to discourage demand.

At least the city council is treating this as a quality-of-life question for the commercial area and the businesses, and not (contrary to Mr. Dunshee's view) as a sanctimonious mother-knows-best effort to protect the drinkers of malt liquor from their own excesses.  But if the City should adopt the mother-knows-best approach to restricting drinking, I wish it would prohibit the offering of free wine at charity auctions, under the guise of protecting the credit ratings of the guests.  Anatole France would delight in a city government that protected the rich, as well as the poor, from the evils of alcohol.

 

Coburg wins the Paul Arritola Award

The Oregonian's story about how energetically the City of Coburg enforces the speed limit reminded me of Paul Arritola (1911-1977) [See comments below], once the police chief of Jordan Valley.  Some background: Jordan Valley is a hamlet on US 95 in Malheur County, the only incorporated city on the 163 miles of that highway within Oregon.  In the 1970s Mr. Arritola worked out a deal with the city: he would staff the police department at his expense and pay part of the costs of operation, if he could keep the traffic fines.  (As usual, I'm oversimplifying a little.)  In effect, he agreed to work on commission.

The speed limit on US 95 was 55 mph on 162 of its 163 Oregon miles.  The speed limit on the one mile within Jordan Valley's city limits was 25 mph.  Mr. Arritola and his staff caught a lot of speeders.  It was reported one year that he was the highest-paid public official in the State of Oregon, outearning the governor and the heads of the public universities.  The legislature closed that opportunity when the Oregonian broke the story.

Coburg, a city near Interstate 5 a few miles north of Eugene, deserves a trophy in Mr. Arritola's name.  A few years ago Coburg discovered a quirk in Chapter 153 of the Oregon Revised Statutes: a city could cite traffic violators into municipal court if the violation occurred in that county, whether or not the violation occurred within the city itself.  If the violation was tried in municipal court, the city got to keep the fines and apply them to its general fund. 

Coburg sent its finest out to the freeway to ticket speeders, even though the freeway was outside the city.  The 2003 legislature amended ORS 153.136 to stop this; Coburg can still patrol the freeway and issue tickets, but violators will be tried in Lane County's courts, not the city's, and any fines will go to the county.

But that didn't stop Coburg . . .

Harvey Dick

I alluded briefly to Harvey Dick (1904-1977) on December 19, and thought a longer mention would be in order.  Mr. Dick, who was born 100 years ago this month, was a scion of an early president of the United States National Bank of Oregon and had interests in lumber and steel, but he's best remembered for his ownership of the Hoyt Hotel.  The Hoyt Hotel stood between NW 6th and Broadway a block south of the Union Station.  It bustled during the heyday of passenger rail travel as it was the first hotel that an arriving passenger would see.  Its lobby remained a busy place until the hotel closed in 1972: KLIQ broadcast its talk shows from a glass booth in the lobby.

The lobby and bars in the hotel were nothing like the bland rooms of today's corporate chains.  Diners and drinkers would come to see the collection of artifacts that Mr. Dick had assembled.  In one spot stood a writing desk said to have belonged to Theodore Dreiser.  The bar contained a mechanical piano and a giant box with mechanical musicians.  The men's room in the bar had a long urinal that could be used for target practice, of a sort: "When hit in the right place with jets of sufficient velocity, bells and sirens sounded, a noisy tribute to the aim and power of the beer drinker responsible."  The Roaring 20's nightclub room was presided over by Gracie Hansen, who ran for governor on a pro-entertainment platform. 

Most notably, in the Barbary Coast bar in the hotel, Mr. Dick had placed the plastic mock-up of the locomotive used in a movie called Ticket to Tomahawk.  The locomotive later saw service, courtesy of Mr. Dick, in the '60s television series Petticoat Junction.

Portland could use another showplace like the Hoyt Hotel.  No one takes their out-of-town friends to check out the lobby at the Hilton or the Marriott.

Happy birthday, Uncle Farmer

Fixed and stable habits run in my family, most notably in my Uncle Farmer, who celebrates his birthday this week.  Earlier this year he and My Aunt The Winemaker marked their 65th wedding anniversary, living in the same house they bought 58 years ago.  It's very different from my own McMansion neighborhood, where eight years in the same house has been enough to make me the "old man" of the block.

Happy birthday, Uncle Farmer!

Fair and balanced new

For some years my morning routine has included about 40 minutes of listening to the news on KXL, which provided a good mix of local and national news reports.  KXL played the CBS national news for four minutes on the hour and one minute on the half-hour, not counting commercial announcements.  Then maybe two or three years ago, KXL dropped the last minute of the on-the-hour news, but it was still a good balance.

In the last month or two KXL has switched from the CBS news reports to the Fox reports: it still runs one minute on the half-hour,  but runs only one minute of the Fox national report on the hour.  (And that one minute may be all that Fox provides its affiliates.)  It's not enough airtime for me to call it national "news" any more.  I was not pleased, and I'm looking for another news station to start my day with.  (Any suggestions?)

Then it occurred to me: just because "news" started life as a partitive noun doesn't mean it has to remain one.  While I search for another station to listen to, I  think of the Fox report in the singular -- "fair and balanced new" -- as more aptly describing its small portions, and I smile.

Washington finds a parallel in the Texas of 1948

Are you watching Washington's efforts to decide whether its next governor will be Christine Gregoire or Dino Rossi, and the parties' sparring over whether 500+ King County ballots that were mistakenly rejected should be inspected and counted?  If so, then take an hour to read (or re-read) the chapter from Robert Caro's book Means of Ascent (volume two of his LBJ biography) in which he describes the ballot shenanigans and post-election struggle in Texas's Democratic senatorial primary of 1948, in which Lyndon Johnson was held to have defeated Coke Stevenson by 87 votes.  (If you don't have the book, try Googling "johnson stevenson 'ballot box 13'".)  The Johnson-Stevenson story adds some historical perspective to the problems faced by our neighbor to the north.

Mayor Katz, in history

As Mayor Katz concludes her third and final term in office I reflected on her twelve years as mayor and contrasted them with the eight years of Bud Clark and four years of Frank Ivancie that preceded her first term.  Despite his negative public persona, Mayor Ivancie (who served from 1981 to 1984) was an able administrator: under his control the Water Bureau got its bills out on time, and he had the Portland Building built on time and on budget, with a reputed two change orders.  (He's not to blame for the design, however.)  He accomplished a number of things without much fanfare, such as attracting (with Governor Atiyeh) NEC to build its plant in Hillsboro and kick off the Sunset Corridor for electronics, but he didn't do much to lift morale.  Bread without circuses.

Mayor Clark, who succeeded him and served two terms (1985-1992), was a much more enjoyable public figure, but not an expert administrator of the city's day-to-day business.  During his term the City burned through police chiefs at a record clip.  He made life here more fun, but was light on policy accomplishments.  Circuses without bread.

What, then, to make of Vera Katz as mayor?  After a rocky start (that's why Columbia Sportswear isn't in Portland any more), she picked up a better touch in dealing with the business community.  She occasionally tossed out ideas that I and others derided as daffy -- capping Interstate 405 and flirting with major league baseball -- but most of her ideas had (I think now) something intelligent behind them, no matter how strange they seemed to me when she announced them.  At least she was always thinking of something different, in the Tom McCall style.  And this is a good thing; as A.P. Herbert said, "A bee in the bonnet is at least a sign of cerebral activity." 

I think she'll be more appreciated as mayor four years from now than she is today.

Too much talk and not enough listen

Several times a week I'm in my car at midday, and will switch on the radio while driving, usually to a talk show (not the same show each time).  The talk show hosts leave me slightly dissatisfied and uneasy, and I think I've figured out why, by comparing them to their forebears.

Thirty years ago Portland had only two talk radio stations of consequence, KLIQ (1290 AM and 92.3 FM), which operated out of Oaks Park, and KKEY (1150 AM), which operated sometimes from Vancouver and sometimes from the Flatiron Building on West Burnside.  (Ringler's Annex is there now.)  KLIQ sold more advertising and had a more polished sound to it; KKEY was the poor relation.  The hosts were called "moderators" as they viewed their job to lead a discussion, not to dominate it.  Neither station had any clear political view, and both employed hosts across the political spectrum.  For example, at one point KLIQ's lineup included Allan Hirsch (a flaming liberal), Harvey Dick (a Reagan-style Republican who owned the Hoyt Hotel), Jerry Dimmitt (the light-hearted innovator of "quad talk," in which he'd connect four callers at once and let them argue with each other), and "Pete Wheeler" (a pseudonymous retired Army man who took a lively interest in national politics).  In the middle of them was columnist Doug Baker, who used his two hours a day to pontificate in lordly style.  (He was also the only one of them who refused to accept a call from anyone under 18; a rule he waived for only one caller.)

What made KLIQ's and KKEY's talk different from today's less interesting fare?  I identified two differences.  First, the hosts were local.  They interacted with each other.  Mr. Baker didn't like Mr. Dimmitt and they would carp at each other from time to time, to the amusement of their listeners.  Mr. Hirsch would disguise his voice and call "Just Plain Jack" Hurd or Dave Collins, two KKEY moderators, hoping to goad them into blowing up on the air.  I don't hear Rush Limbaugh's voice calling Dr. Laura Schlessinger, though he could apparently use some of her advice; but it would make both shows more interesting if he did.

The second difference is that each of the hosts would listen.  They didn't use their shows simply to broadcast their own ideas; they wanted to have conversations with their callers that would be interesting to their listeners.  It's a lesson that today's "gas bags" (a name Time Magazine gave to radio talk hosts in 1974) could do well to learn.

Sic transit gloria mundi

Last Saturday the Oregonian reported that Vicki Phillips, superintendent of the Portland Public Schools, wished to renegotiate the severance provisions of the district's contract with Steve Goldschmidt.  His current contract requires the school district to pay him 24 months' salary and benefits (I'm slightly oversimplifying), worth about $357,000, if the district fires him without cause.  Mr. Goldschmidt's generous contract is a legacy from Ben Canada's tenure as head of PPS, agreed to by Dr. Canada shortly before he himself got a large check when booted from the district.

I don't know how well Mr. Goldschmidt does his job, but I can't help thinking that when the school district agreed to this generous severance provision, and earlier when it agreed to pay him a princely sum as a consultant ($307,000 for 16 months' work, equal to about $228,000 per year), it thought it was getting added value in the form of Mr. Goldschmidt's connections to the local nomenklatura, including his brother, who was once governor.  The value of those connections took a plunge earlier this year.

Isaac's prediction:  by the end of 2005 Mr. Goldschmidt will have parted ways with the school district.