Chunk's road trip, part 2

1. LET'S FACE IT, nothing's cooler than a town in the middle of f*ckin' nowhere. So, when I came upon tiny and dilapidated Johannesburg (CA), an old mining town along the 395, I decided to have a look around.

The town was the terminus of a mining railroad starting in the 1890s, but the tracks were torn out in the 30s. It was a "civilized" town for several decades. Today, fewer than 200 people live in "Jo-burg."

2. On the west (?) end of town, I came across an old cemetery. Bingo! I parked and commenced reading the grave markers.

3. This little girl lived for about two weeks in 1859.

4. An old iron marker.

5. 12-year-old Ada died in 1898.

6. 34-year-old Charlie Brown also died in 1898.

7. Born in Kentucky, in 1854.

8. Evidently, Frank was the "Godfather of American Rockhounds."

9. Bill had a sense of humor, I guess.

10. This guy was born when I was, but died at age 35. Evidently, he loved his bike. Note the beer can.

11. It was hot. I had to go. I looked at the sky. It was cool and beautiful.

Chunk's road trip

1. Took a road trip, starting yesterday afternoon. Drove up 395, through the Owens Valley, scene of many family adventures during the 60s and 70s.

This first shot is of the north end of Owens Lake, which, I hear, is receiving water. The Owens Valley was the target of an infamous LA County water grab seventy or so years ago. (Remember Chinatown?)

Does anyone know if they filmed "Bad Day at Black Rock" here? Sure looks like it.

2. This one's from Lone Pine, I think. Mt. Whitney and the "sawtooth ridge," I believe, to the right.

I was up there with the family in 1971 or so. In a thunder storm. Hence the frizzy hair and electrifying manner.


3. Mono Lake, or what's left of it. The water level seems to be lower than ever. Still magnificent, though. Saw Huell Howser there once. He said "golly."


4. The sky at about 7 or 8 p.m. Not far from Mammoth Lakes.

5. This morning, visited the Reb in Squaw Valley. She and Red Emma were busy keeping the poetry thing on track and preparing for the writers. The poets looked dead serious. We had to whisper, and we were nowhere near 'em.

Saw a three-legged dog and a cute little blond girl. Evidently, the girl is the conference's official "cute little kid." She does a great job. She acted all shy.

Briefly met a Cal professor who, Reb informs me, was the country's Poet Laureate back in the 90s. He's been participating in the Squaw Valley conference for decades. Very generous fellow, I'm told. Seemed like a nice guy.

We ate at some fancy-pants restaurant not far from the conference center, which sits at the foot of what locals call "The Mountain." The mountain is an impressive Rock structure that juts upward with great violence and authority. It's like a bit o' Yosemite.

Our restaurant didn't cater to vegetarians, so we opted for the pizza, which had pine nuts and roasted mozzarella that somehow tasted like pepperoni. Seemed perfect for the setting.

There seem to be lots of conferences up there. One of 'em was for wrestling, I think. Another one was for libertines, I'm guessin'. Saw some naked people looking for water in the creek bed. They had to look close. Me too.

Took the tram to the top of the mountain. You can see Lake Tahoe from there. Flags from around the world flew at the very top (see pic), which is over 8,000 ft. Studied a family there who spoke a language that I could not identify. They were beautiful people.

They held the winter Olympics up there nearly fifty years ago. It was scandalous, I'm told, but nobody talks about it. Internationalism has been a theme in the valley ever since.

6/7. Left for the Bay Area at about 3. Ran into some serious traffic around Sacramento. Crossed over the river, which is big. Very cool.

At about 8 p.m., drove into the city, encountering fog. Went from hot to cold in about five minutes. Had to pay $4 to use the toll road (the 80) across the bay. Very impressive. The city looked great in that fog, all squished together and damp and full of life. Makes me wanna be gay.



Fanny's cat Tiger-Ann says "Hey."

Dispatch #7

YESTERDAY, in Tahoe City, the Brooklyn Barbaric Yawps defeated the Amherst Belles -- 13-12 -- in the annual softball game.

An anniversary of ruthlessness

A WEEK AGO, a friend reminded me of an anniversary. On July 16, exactly ten years had passed since the infamous "reorganization" of the district—an action that reduced the number of Saddleback College deans and eliminated Irvine Valley's "school chairs" system.

Arguably, the era of serious administrative instability started with that event. As you know, administrative instability has plagued the district ever since. (See Accreditation visit.)

In order to minimize scrutiny, the unprincipled 1997 "board majority," including John Williams, performed the "reorg"—sometimes called the "Big Sloppy"—in the middle of summer (July 16, 1997) and in closed session.

According to the courts, the action was illegal, for it violated the state's "open meetings" law. The reorg was not agendized (as such), thus failing to inform the public of the board's planned deliberations. Further, a reorganization is not a permitted closed session topic. It should be done in open session.

No matter. Once the illegality of the action was determined, the board simply repeated it in open session, this time properly agendized.

Observe that the "scrutiny minimization" ploy was used again in the last week! Discussion of Mathur's new contract occurred during a closed "special meeting" last Thursday. All that was left to do at Monday's meeting (on the 23rd) was to vote on it.

WHEN I BOUGHT my new car on Saturday, I traded in my old Honda, and that entailed removing all the crap that, over the last eight years, I had piled in its trunk. This morning, I sifted through that awful pile, now sitting outside my front door.

I came across this November 4, 1999 edition of the now-defunct Irvine Valley College Voice.

Talk about your ruthlessness! This particular issue told the story of how then-President Raghu Mathur sought to stifle dissent among faculty by targeting the most vulnerable among them, namely, an untenured faculty member, Dr. K.

Mathur's ugly realpolitik was so egregious that it inspired student protests (see above photo).

K had an unblemished record and and was by all accounts an excellent instructor. He was very popular with students. But he had occasionally expressed criticism of Mathur, as had dozens of other instructors.


Mathur decided to make an example of K. At the time, Mathur was laying the groundwork for a negative recommendation re K's tenure. K was accused of participating in the unauthorized dedication of a greenhouse (built and paid for by the bio faculty). I kid you not. In fact, K did not participate in that activity, exactly because he was untenured.

K had also allegedly provided spray paint to a student who sought to write on the side of an old car that was being used in the Honor Society's "Smash a Car" activity (part of IVC's Oktoberfest celebration). The plan was to spray over the name "Mathur," which a student had painted on the car but which then-VP of Student Services Armando Ruiz objected to. (Ruiz, one of Mathur's hand-picked administrative recruits, later retired and then gained infamy bilking taxpayers by exploiting a loophole in the pension laws. See Double-dipping.)

Well, in the end, thanks to a tremendous show of support for K, the trustees were persuaded to grant K's tenure, despite Mathur's recommendation. (See Hello Mr. Chips.)

Targeting people and then using ruthless means to eliminate them is still a favored Mathurian tactic. I'll have more to say about that in the coming months.

A turd wrapped in a board inside a building

Tonight’s meeting of the SOCCCD board of trustees was brief and perfunctory. It was seriously odd.

I sat there, trying to make sense of it. The dang thing was, like, a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.

—Well, no, it was more like a turd wrapped in a board inside a building.

At about 6:45 (the meeting was set to start at 6:30), Chancellor Mathur wandered out, looking like a dog with his tail between his legs. Don’t know why.

Soon, Nancy Padberg appeared, and then everybody else showed up, except for Marcia Milchiker, who was absent owing to the recent death of her mother-in-law, Celia.

Nothing was reported from the closed session. Williams did the prayer and Fuentes did the Pledge. None of the trustees gave a report.

Like I said, grim and odd. Perfunctitudinal.

Chancellor Mathur reported that summer enrollments are up, and early indications for the Fall are good, too. Nobody seemed to care. Move on.

For some reason, item 4.8—the Study Abroad Program to Salamanca, Spain—was pulled from the agenda. Nancy Padberg pulled three items from the consent calendar, but that didn’t add up to much. She's a bit of a nitpicker.

The new Director of Facilities, Planning, and Purchasing (Brandye D'Lena) was introduced. She seemed pleased.

There was a tag-team PowerPoint presentation about Energy Conservation Measures and Sustainability. The first guy told us all about swimming pool covers, nighttime water chilling, sunlight reflecting roofs, and “cogeneration.” He used the word “utilize” maybe twenty times.

Somebody else got up to talk about hazardous waste, fluorescent tubes, and solar energy. Then the gkkworks boys got up there and blathered about the wonders of sustainability. It’s “the right thing to do,” they said.

One of ‘em, a tall, blond guy, had this low, gentle voice, and I do believe he put everybody to sleep. I almost expected somebody to say something about it—"Could you stop being so goddam dull?"—but they never did. People are sort of polite, even when they’re peevish.

Eventually, Park Ranger Kopecky got up and injected some energy into the proceedings. He said something about how, sustainabilitywise, or energywise, or some other-goddam-wise, ATEP is “state of the art,” unlike these “antiquated sister colleges.” That got a laugh.

It was weird to laugh among so much peevitude. After the laugh, everybody’s face returned to its rictus of resentment, or whatever it was.

At the end of the presentation, Fuentes stoically led everybody—the audience was tiny—in meager applause. So perfunctory was this applause that it sounded like "fuck you fuck you fuck you...."

The Police Officers Association “master agreement” was approved. Two cops in blue stood in the back and stared.

THE TURD: MATHUR'S NEW CONTRACT

Soon, the trustees got to the Chancellor’s new contract. It’s a sweet deal, boy, and it goes to 2011. Only Padberg spoke to it, though she only commented on “ambiguities” in the language and some typos.

In the end, with Milchiker absent, the contract was approved 4 to 2, with Jay and Padberg casting the dissenting votes. Mr. Wagner voted right along with Williams, Fuentes, and Dave “the quisling” Lang. Wagner looked pretty sheepish. He tried not to, but it was no use. Even the Lord was pissed at 'im.

It all went down very quickly, easily. Bada bing, bada boom. I just don’t know what to tell you.

The police chiefs got up and yammered about “emergency preparedness” for a while, but my heart wasn’t in it. I didn’t hear anything they said. I guess we're prepared, or something.

Mr. Fuentes finally received his nasty little report that lists employees with “earnings over $90,000,” but we heard no details and he had nothing to say about it. Maybe the facts weren't to his liking.

The reports from the presidents and governance groups were unremarkable. The Faculty Association’s Ken W reported that contract negotiations are “proceeding in a reasonable manner.” He hoped that the two sides would reach agreement within a couple of months.

That was about it. Everybody grimly stalked out of the building to sleep or get drunk or watch “The Closer.”

Me, I got in my Chrysler 300, cranked up the Pixies' "Where is My Mind?", and cruised into the cool, black night.

See also Tracy's Board Meeting Highlights

CONTRACT EXCERPTS:

1. Chancellor. Dr. Mathur is hereby employed for a period of time commencing on July 1, 2007, and ending on June 30, 2011, as the District’s Chancellor. Dr. Mathur shall also serve at no extra compensation in the role of the District’s chief executive officer and secretary to the Board of Trustees. The position of Chancellor is hereby designated as an educational administrative position as defined in Education Code Section 87002(b).

2. General Terms and Conditions of Employment. This Agreement supersedes and replaces all prior agreements and understandings of the parties in connection herewith, including, but without limitation, the agreement between the parties covering the period July 1, 2005 through June 30, 2008, and any amendments to that agreement. This Agreement is subject to all applicable laws of the State of California, the rules and regulations of the Board of Governors of the California Community Colleges, and the rules, regulations, policies, and procedures of the District, all of which shall be made a material part of the terms and conditions of this Agreement as if set forth in full. This agreement shall prevail over any conflicting District rules, regulations, policies or procedures.
.....
4. Salary. The base salary for the 2007-2008 college year shall be $237,261. The base salary shall be paid in 12 equal monthly installments with proration for a period of less than a full year of service. For each year of this Agreement, including the 2007-2008 college year, the base salary provided in this Agreement shall be increased by the State Budget Act’s funded percentage COLA for community college districts without further action by the Board of Trustees. Dr. Mathur will receive this increase to base salary at the same time that other academic administrator’s receive a salary increase at least equal to the COLA described above. If, during any year of this Agreement, academic administrators receive an increase that is greater than or less than the COLA described above, Dr. Mathur shall receive the same percentage increase to his base salary. Any adjustment in salary during the term of this Agreement shall not be interpreted as a new agreement or operate as an extension or renewal of this Agreement.
.....

Dispatch #6

Roll Call

I SLICED UP Ezra Pound this morning, one of the Cantos, then I stapled him to Allen Ginsberg, an excerpt from his Kaddish. Ruth Stone was on his other side, followed by Muriel Rukeyser talking about Oedipus and what he couldn’t see. Then George Oppen and Gwendolyn Brooks and finally Stanley Kunitz, recalling at sixty-four how his mother slapped him when he retrieved, from the attic, the portrait of his father, a man she never forgave for committing suicide when she was pregnant with their son, the one who grew up to write poems.


The Portrait

My mother never forgave my father
for killing himself,
especially at such an awkward time
and in a public park,
that spring
when I was waiting to be born.
She locked his name
in her deepest cabinet
and would not let him out,
though I could hear him thumping.
When I came down from the attic
with the pastel portrait in my hand
of a long-lipped stranger
with a brave moustache
and deep brown level eyes,
she ripped it into shreds
without a single word
and slapped me hard.
In my sixty-fourth year
I can feel my cheek
still burning.

—Stanley Kunitz

A walking carnival ride

WORKING ON these old photographs tends to produce in me mixed emotions, but there's no denying that it can get me down. Too much loss. So, fortunately, yesterday, I attended a very nice family get-together, and it made me conscious of present circumstances about which I can be very glad.

More specifically, I'm happy to be a part of the lives of my niece and nephew. They're like pups or kittens, full of energy, full of fun. They seem to think that I'm a walking carnival ride, Mr. Toad's wild Uncle.

1. Most of these photos are "details" from much larger photographs taken by my father more than thirty-five years ago. At the time of this shot, Fanny and I were in High School, and my little brother, at right, had just turned six. We're somewhere in the Sierra Nevada.

2. The second photo reveals how close I was to my littlest brother back then. We used to sing to Beatles records together—Help was a favorite. Nowadays, such affection as is revealed in the photo is never seen between us, although it is manifest and abundant between me and his two wonderful kids. I call 'em weasels.

Sometimes, when I'm singing or playing with young Adam, age three, I'm conscious that I had precisely the same relationship with my little brother, their "papa," a long time ago. I'm determined not to allow the relationship to become less close. But who knows.

3. Here we are near El Morro. Like my hair? Salt water does that.

4. This shot includes Fanny's fiancé, Davey-Doo, an engineer, at left. He was very successful in his field. Made big bucks up in Silicon Valley.

A few years ago, he flew his super-duper stunt aircraft straight into the ground. Fanny tells me that his body was never found. She says things like that, and then, for a split second, she awaits a reaction. She'll deny it.

People are complex.

5/6. My new car. Not really new, but new for me. I get a car every ten or twenty years.

This one looks damned good, if you ask me. The design team for the Chrysler 300 was led by a Haitian/Canadian named Ralph Gilles (pronounced "Jeel").

Way to go, RG.

I gave Adam and Sarah a ride in the thing yesterday, and, in the back seat, they squealed and rocked to the music: Iggy Pop's "The Passenger" and The Damned's "New Rose."

I think Sarah's gonna become a dancer, like her mom. She was doing The Monkey back there, that little weasel.