Cheap Help
There are two kinds of cities in California. Some consider themselves full-service. This means city workers pick up trash, make toilets flush, trim trees, patch potholes, douse fires and arrest people.
The others are contract cities. They pay someone else to handle those mundane, necessary chores.
Sacramento fancies itself a full-service city. The mayor and City Council embrace the title with pride. They charge sky-high fees for utilities, parks and safety. They insist residents want the best possible civic amenities.
Hero To Zero
A dozen years ago, when I worked for the mayor’s office, we needed a slogan to describe the leadership goals of Kevin Johnson. We came up with “Think Big,” two words distilled by Chris Lehane, a political consultant who advised our little group. Chris was always good for snappy taglines.
At first I didn’t like “Think Big.” The slogan was simplistic, childish. But as the mayor’s office worked to fulfill Kevin’s ambitions for a new arena Downtown, I realized Chris was right. To get anything done, we had to think big.
Times were rough. Recession shut hundreds of local businesses. State workers were furloughed. The city budget was in shambles. Cops laid off, fire stations closed, parks neglected. Our NBA team was headed for Seattle.
Good, Not Great
That was the easy part, the transition from awful to good. Next step is the tough one, good to great.
Kings fans are thrilled with this season’s progress, a hungry audience given a meal of rump steak, starchy potatoes and organic lettuce. Now let’s talk about dessert and remember reaching the NBA playoffs is not a major accomplishment.
Opportunity Lost
I have two healthy habits. One is a long walk every morning after breakfast. The other is looking for ways Sacramento political leaders blow opportunities to create a wonderful city.
After a walk the other day, I dug through some Sacramento Library archives. I wanted to learn how various neighborhoods came to be, how industrial operations were shoved north of B Street, how R Street was filled with warehouses, how businesses districts were dislodged from residential streets.
Neighborhood Legend
Inside remembers the life of Jim Hastings (1928 – 2023).