I know a guy who knows more about Sacramento than anyone. Spent his life here. Sees things, talks to people, thinks deeply about what he observes.
That’s why I thought it was significant when he told me the town was never better than right now.
I knew what he meant. He wasn’t talking about new pavement on Interstate 5 that replaced shattered chunks of concrete between Meadowview and Sutterville on-ramps. Or a casino in Elk Grove.
He meant the evolution of city life, delights that come from extraordinary meals in unexpected places, butternut squash at Canon on 34th Street, cannellini beans and roasted branzino at Hook & Ladder on S Street.
He meant the Midtown Farmers Market and new apartments and condos in former warehouses along R Street. He meant a city where people savor life and thrive.
My friend made his comments while we drank beer at Ice Blocks. Earlier that day, I walked from the train station to Downtown Commons. I wandered south to Q Street, then north to the Capitol. The journey left me more depressed than weary.
It was a sunny weekday morning. Streets were deserted. I saw security guards and homeless people. Nobody else.
At the base of the Sacramento Valley Station sign at Fifth and I streets, I watched a man sit amid trash and use a plastic spoon to scoop something from a paper cup.
This must be what social scientists talk about when they discuss doom loops. Sacramento has never been better. Downtown feels like it’s never been worse.
The pandemic sent 70,000 local public employees home. Don’t count on them all coming back.
Eight years of incompetent management by Mayor Darrell Steinberg and City Council let the homeless population explode from 2,700 to 10,000. Don’t count on homeless camps disappearing.
A mayoral election is a good time to consider the contradictions. It makes no sense that a perceptive observer finds the city better than ever while Downtown streets are abandoned on nice weekday mornings.
But it makes sense when you realize why some cities rejuvenate and others languish. Sacramento always struggled, long before COVID-19 and the scourge of homelessness.
One reason is insecurity.
Neighborhoods thrive when an equilibrium exists between residents, jobs and services. People are happy and content when they live near their workplace and commute on foot or bicycle or brief, convenient public transit rides.
Insecurities fade when residents gain economic power and find good places to spend money and time. They don’t worry about how provincial they might appear to friends in San Francisco or Los Angeles or San Diego.
Secure people don’t compete.
Sacramento always had an inferiority complex. Government town. Boring. Nice place to raise kids. Near top destinations. Dull, but better than Fresno.
The city is relatively small. Its legacies and entrepreneurial wealth swirl around a hundred or so families. State workers don’t build creative communities. Talented youngsters—Joan Didion to Greta Gerwig—grab the first plane out.
Sacramento spent decades trying to distinguish itself. But nobody cares about steam engines. Old Sac evolved as a middle-class tourist stop. Ag history devolved into a marketing slogan. Farm to fork was adopted and monetized by other cities.
The pandemic changed everything. People realized San Francisco and Los Angeles were messy, crowded and overpriced. Sacramento had charm. Easy to love. The town’s moment arrived, especially Midtown. Developers created smart new living spaces. Terrific restaurants opened.
When my friend was a teenager, the hottest place in town was Zorba’s at 12th and K. The owner was Nick Galaxidas. He drew crowds by dancing with a table in his mouth. Drove a Ben Hur chariot pulled by Arabian horses.
Confident cities savor cannellini beans and roasted branzino. They don’t chase a Ben Hur chariot down K Street.
R.E. Graswich can be reached at regraswich@icloud.com. Follow us on Facebook and Instagram: @insidesacramento.
