On a walk across the grid the other day, I wondered whether it’s possible to love a town that doesn’t love itself.
I won’t say Sacramento is self-loathing. But it’s been obvious for decades that the city labors under an inferiority complex, uncertain of its value, insecure about its identity.
During growth periods, the town doesn’t accept new arrivals as proof of worthiness. No, Sacramento assumes the only reason anyone moves here is because it’s cheaper than Hayward and closer to Tahoe.
I blame politics. About 50 years ago, the city shed its image as a sleepy valley ag town that coincidentally housed the Capitol. It became a capital and nothing else.
Canneries closed, then military bases. Gone were machinists and farmers and navigators and logistical experts. Now everybody works in government or politics. Or heath care, where they fix people in government and politics.
It’s hard for a political town to love itself because politics is a cold, manipulative business. Only politicians love politics. That’s why the city feels unloved and leaderless.
Being away from Sacramento for awhile reminds me how much I love the town. Reconnection starts with meandering walks from 29th Street to the Sacramento River.
I take detours and different routes, hunting for evidence the city is taking care of itself. Or, more often, not.
The intersection of 10th and K streets was the city’s heart when I was a kid. An old guy in a one-man shack—the shack was baby blue, I think—sold newspapers on the northwest corner. Everybody read newspapers.
When I visited that intersection the other day, the corner was stuck in time, unimproved from the last redevelopment 17 years ago.
In 2008, Randy Paragary opened a deli called the Cosmopolitan Cafe at 10th and K. In the kitchen, Chef Kurt Spataro produced the best pastrami in town. Several doors down, mermaids made a splash at Dive Bar. The musical revue “Forever Plaid” played at a new little theater behind the Cosmopolitan.
Four years later, there was no pastrami. The Cosmopolitan closed. The little theater went dark. Only Dive Bar endures, a nightclub supported by tourists.
I’m glad R Street is where locals congregate today, many drawn by Mike Heller’s Ice Blocks. The site of the old Crystal Ice factory pulls together nine blocks of reimagined warehouse lofts, restaurants, bars and art galleries.
I love R Street’s industrial legacy and muscle, the city’s most successful revitalization. But in a town that doesn’t love itself, there are no sure things.
Every journey finds a shop window blacked out and a failed business awaiting the next dream. I enjoyed Beast+Bounty. Then it was gone. Good luck to the replacement, Good Neighbor.
Sometimes I walk past City Hall. I check out the latest City Council agenda for directional crumbs.
Deeper stories demand patience and connections with people who know things. What about Mayor Kevin McCarty’s feud with Councilmember Mai Vang over a homeless site on Meadowview Road?
Or what about youth service providers trying to manipulate the city budget? What about unions trying to tank the proposed soccer stadium?
Fortunately, many Sacramento residents still love the town. They yell when they see City Hall blunder, mislead or lie.
There are worse cities, brazenly corrupt, incompetent, dismissive of citizens—Oakland and Los Angeles leap to mind—but those places love themselves in ways Sacramento can’t replicate.
Their pride and self-confidence are foundational, transcending economic, cultural and political disasters. Sacramento is among the best California cities, but it sounds forced if not false to say that.
I wish I knew how to make Sacramento love itself. Political leaders can’t do the job. They’re too consumed with themselves and their careers. It’s up to the rest of us.
Meantime, I’ll keep walking the grid looking for answers. I love this place. It’s a town where a cold drink and good meal are right around the corner. What’s not to love?
R.E. Graswich can be reached at regraswich@icloud.com. Follow us on Facebook and Instagram: @insidesacramento.
