Many years ago, Ray Kerridge, then city manager of Sacramento, invited me to lunch. Between his salad and my cheeseburger, he asked a profound question.
If I were on City Council, where would my loyalties stand—with the district that elected me, or the entire city? I fumbled for an answer and made up something diplomatic. If I didn’t look after people in my district, nobody else would. But my City Council decisions would impact everyone in town, not just one council district. My loyalty goes to the city.
Take comfort in watching the city’s levee bike path experts work a room. Assurance flows from their understated confidence, never brash, always sincere. To hear them speak is to realize the Sacramento River Parkway bike trail is on schedule to arrive in 2026.
Momentum is tangible.
City engineer Megan Johnson and engineering consultant Matt Salveson lead the bike trail team. They bring decades of professional experience. They understand the challenges and embrace the rewards.
Their calm, patient recitation of data, dates and facts soothes like therapy.
People file lawsuits for money, publicity or vengeance. District Attorney Thien Ho is different. He wants documents.
Ho’s lawsuit against city officials over negligent management of homelessness brought relief to residents and outrage from Mayor Darrell Steinberg. A key target of Ho’s litigation was overlooked: pretrial discovery.
Ho wants the city to enforce local ordinances and state laws and clean up the streets. To understand why the city failed, he needs to see private emails, text messages and memos that guided city officials to their acceptance of tent camps and drug markets.
Generations of families loved Land Park Plunge and Riverside Baths. They celebrated the pool’s opening every April, rode bikes, walked or took the No. 2 bus down Riverside Boulevard.
They splashed in “artesian” waters on summer days. They swam on moonlit nights. Admission was 25 cents, kids a dime.
Then Land Park Plunge and its diving boards, patios and dressing rooms disappeared, dropped from conversations, expunged from memories, an embarrassment best forgotten.
Today nothing memorializes the significance of a once-grand community sports and recreation center. Let’s pretend this never happened. But it did happen.
Soon after winning her City Council seat in 2020, Katie Valenzuela made a decision that set the tone for her neophyte political career. She hired a man who made violent threats against the mayor and city manager.
As it turned out, Skyler Henry wasn’t violent. But his presence at City Hall prompted Mayor Darrell Steinberg and City Manager Howard Chan to seek a restraining order against Henry. The order was denied, but Chan changed several locks at City Hall to prevent Henry from wandering around.
When I asked Valenzuela why she would hire someone known for making threats against public officials, she said Henry was merely exercising his First Amendment rights. Refusal to hire him, she said, would make her a hypocrite, someone who disrespects free speech.
Three months ago, the Bee announced its print circulation was 25,325. The number represented a one-year drop of about 35%. It signaled massive revenue losses, $17 million if annual subscribers paid $1,200. About 5% of digital subscribers also disappeared.
As a former Bee reporter who remembers when circulation topped 300,000, I type these numbers with sadness. In 2019, the Bee sold 93,000 copies daily.
I escaped the newsroom at 21st and Q streets 16 years ago, when I saw deep cracks in the Bee’s fundamentals. I knew management wasn’t capable or willing to address threats from online advertising and free news content. I decided the Bee had no future.
