When planets collide

The sentiment at a town-hall meeting in Balboa Park
- Photo by John R. Lamb

Mike Aguirre exudes child-like glee in pointing out that he’s attended more of the morose city-budget town-hall meetings than the master of ceremonies himself, Mayor Jerry Sanders. “He’s one for eight,” Aguirre boasts. “I’ve been to every one.”

Yes, the former city attorney with the boxer’s mentality is back in the public arena in unabashed “I told you so” mode. And love him or hate him (there are many in both camps, he’s well aware), he’s a ton more interesting than these town halls—more like funeral halls, if you ask Spin Cycle.

Where Spin sees a string of mayoral soldiers lining up one by one to deliver the doomsday news of a future without a half-cent sales-tax hike as prescribed by Prop. D, Aguirre describes a much more sinister world of fraud, extortion and, now, elder abuse.

He pointed to a recent town hall—one of eight the mayor organized citywide in the run-up to Tuesday’s election—in Rolando. Big crowd, mostly senior citizens upset at the thought that rehabilitation services at city rec centers might be cut as part of an effort to fill a $73-million pothole in next year’s city budget.

“They were saying they had nowhere else to go,” Aguirre said. “What did the city tell them? Well, unless we get the [Prop. D] money, we’re going to have to close everything down.”

At that, as Aguirre tells it, he rose up, mad as hell, and began handing out a mock invoice—a detailed $2.1-billion tab billed to the “People of San Diego”—while shouting (no doubt Norma Rae-style), “Let me tell you something. It’s about their pensions!” Aguirre takes it from there: “I swear to God, the whole audience came swinging around, encircled me, saying, ‘Mike, we should have listened to you!’ I couldn’t believe it. You should have seen all the mayor’s people. They were all cowering in their seats.”

Spin asked the storyteller if a light then shone behind his head as he ascended to the heavens, and he laughed. “I felt like Evita!” He then launches into song, thankfully only briefly. “Don’t cry for me, Sannn Dieeego.”

Ah, you’ll never see Jan Goldsmith let his hair down like that.

Spin attended one such production, held last week in Balboa Park’s War Memorial Building. Frankly, the first thing you notice is: San Diego government has no shortage of middle management.

The mayor had so many minions milling about that you’d have thought Sanders was actually there. (Alas, he was not.) The toughest jobs of the evening appeared to be taking contact information from attendees (about 150 that night) and handing out little slips of yellow paper.

Inside the auditorium, children and parents holding “Save Our Pool” signs—and a few seemingly out-of-place balloons—quietly stood in the back. Seating for roughly 300 was less than half full. Up front, a PowerPoint presentation flashed across a portable screen while a half-dozen city officials rose one by one to detail their own department’s plans to slash their boney budgets in a post-No-on-D world, should we come to it.

You’ve no doubt heard the litany of what to expect and the fear-mongering implications. Longer police and fire emergency-response times (i.e., more dead people). Fewer potholes fixed (status quo?). Library and rec center closures (more unfit, less-educated people). Fewer lifeguards on duty (sink or swim, dude!). On and on and on.

After the presentation, out came the yellow cards on which attendees apparently wrote questions. Jay Goldstone, the city’s chief operating officer, fielded most of the questions with a deadpan persona reminiscent of a veteran coroner staring at yet another dead body. If the question drifted into opinion, Goldstone quickly referred to it as “editorial comment.”

What are San Diego’s children supposed to do in a world with less access to libraries, pools and rec centers? The city recognizes the link between idle hands and an uptick in crime, Goldstone said. “We haven’t lost sight of that,” he assured.

If Prop. D passes, how can we be sure the money goes where it’s supposed to, where it never does, one yellow card demanded to know. “Well, I’m not sure I agree with that premise that it never does,” Goldstone told the yellow card. “If Prop. D passes, it will be no different how that money gets spent. … We know what’s important to the community.”

The federal government prints money.

The state issues IOUs. Why can’t the city get into that kind of action? “We have a legal obligation in our charter to pay our debt,” Goldstone said. Not doing so in the past is “what’s gotten the city in trouble.”

How about selling city services to foreign countries to reduce labor costs? (No, really.) “Obviously, one of the things we’re looking at is managed competition,” the COO said. “But it doesn’t mean foreign countries. … We’re always looking at ways to deliver city services more efficiently and cost-effectively.”

As the audience filed out, Aguirre continued to hand out his mock invoice. Just what has prompted his return to the political fray? He points toward Goldstone and Co. “They’re forcing me to get back involved!” he said. “I don’t want to, but no one’s willing to step forward and say we need civil-service reform.”

Sounding an awful lot like Candidate Aguirre, he continued, “What we have to do is rebuild our internal system of commitment to social progress and social justice, like FDR. I’m a big fan of FDR.”

So, is this a prelude to a 2012 mayoral run?

“No, no, no, no,” Aguirre smirked, then added, “If I’m elected mayor, here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to contract out all of the management. They always say they want to cut back employees!” Suddenly, he mentioned former City Council member, failed city attorney candidate and current Port Commissioner Scott Peters, who some believe pines for the Mayor’s office. “If he’s a credible candidate, then I’m credible,” Aguirre proclaimed.

Not the best slogan in the world, but at least entertaining.

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