City Beat
Walk, Don’t Ride
My friend has a habit that makes me proud to know him and fear for his safety. On the sidewalks of Midtown and Downtown, he stands his ground when a bicycle barrels toward him.
His courage should inspire all pedestrians. He earns dirty looks and obscenities from sidewalk cyclists, but so far no broken bones or concussions. He’s never been hit.
My friend doesn’t yell at sidewalk cyclists. He says, “Hey, this is a sidewalk.”
Cheap Talk
Kevin McCarty had a good first year as mayor. I say this with confidence because McCarty didn’t spend the last 12 months telling everyone how great he’s doing.
By not broadcasting his every step and promoting alleged accomplishments, McCarty shattered a City Hall tradition.
The last two mayors, Kevin Johnson and Darrell Steinberg, spent much of their time at City Hall inundating residents with mayoral visions, goals and presumptive victories.
They held countless press conferences and updates about programs and policies to heighten the city’s (and their own) status.
Bad Intentions
In my family, only one person likes Old Sacramento. That’s me. I enjoy the wooden sidewalks, wrought iron balconies, tourist traps, train sheds and steamboat docks.
My feelings for Old Sac are nostalgic. I’m the only one in the family old enough to remember what Front and Second streets looked like six decades ago.
In those days, Old Sac was the West End. Residents were derelicts, bums, drifters, tramps, winos. They loafed in the shade, weary from picking fruit, drunk.
Image Problems
I looked for Randy Paragary in an alley behind the Sheraton Grand Hotel and found Cesar Chavez. At least I think it was Cesar Chavez. It resembled him, though someone painted the name “Randy Paragary” under the mural.
Mistaken identity happens everywhere. Police lineups and courtrooms are notorious for confusing who was present when the gun went off. Some witnesses blame poor lighting. Or poor eyesight.
Which doesn’t mean I expect street murals to be precise representations of the people they wish to honor. A painting on the side of a building isn’t John Singer Sargent mixing bone black and lead white to produce skin tones for “Portrait of Madame X.”
Rebel’s Yell
Authors love to make news when their books come out, but John Burton went to extremes. Three days after his autobiography was published in September, Burton died.
The grand old California politician slipped away at 92, silenced after six decades of wrangling votes, calling in favors and raising hell across a legislative landscape that stretched from Pat Brown to Gavin Newsom.
At least Burton lived long enough to hold hardcopies of his new book, “I Yell Because I Care.” His coauthor, Sacramento journalist Andy Furillo, helped arrange for a box of special editions from publisher Bloomsbury Academic.
Ashes To Ashes
Show me a city that doesn’t demolish old buildings, and I’ll show you a graveyard. Progress cries out for rubble and rebirth.
This summer, the old Sacramento Bee headquarters at 21st and Q streets joined the roster of demolished landmarks. Wreckage never rests in a city hungry for growth.
Despite protests and lawsuits, the decrepit annex to the State Capitol was torn down in 2023. East Sac elders still dream about the Alhambra Theatre and its Moorish pillars and fountains, pulverized in 1973, replaced by a supermarket.
