Winter 2025
The city of Sacramento was awash in debt, with scant opportunity for solvency within the coming decade. The city was in default on municipal bond payments. Sacramento’s downstream river neighbors were petitioning the State legislature for intervention in the management of Sacramento’s discharge of untreated effluents into the region’s rivers. The Federal government had levied significant daily fines against the city for persistent violations of the Clean Water Act.
Coffee Cabinet
The city’s current condition had been sealed years earlier. At that time, some boomer guys were hanging out at a local coffee shop trading typical sarcasm and sardonic humor. The coffee was secondary among this early morning crowd, primary to these guys was the talk and the laughs.
The time is the second decade of the new millennium. The crowd a typical blend of guys: some who thought; some who told stories; those who always wanted to laugh; a few quiet ones; plus a fellow, Sal, who often appointed himself to sit at the head of the table.
The discussions were light, without rancor, mainly. The funny man among the crowd, Bob, tempered the talk with his corny humor and welcoming style; he was everyone’s favorite fellow. The other guys liked to sit near Bob and crack-up at his adolescent humor (funny for the silliness, think ‘Lake Titicaca’) and approachable warmth.
Sal was one of the guys. Sal engaged in conversation with the table, especially about government and politics, or when talking about his interests. At other times, he would often push back from the shared table while others were talking and read the newspaper or undertake ‘yoga’ poses.
Sal was a self-employed lobbyist, partnered in a boutique firm with his wife, she being nine years his senior. In this capacity, Sal was the schmoozer and his wife the analyst. The couple lived well in the California Capitol of Sacramento, drove a large Mercedes-Benz diesel sedan and lived just outside the Fabulous-Forties, perhaps the most prestigious neighborhood in Sacramento.
Bob and Sal knew each other well, lived on the same block and were close proximity neighbors. The two would engage in brief dialogues, but their interests overlapped just marginally and their styles polarized.
Funny man Bob always wanted laughs and had developed a parody of Sal being a ’Daddy Warbucks’ type. In this parody Bob portrayed Sal driving his white sedan down the middle of the street while smoking a cigar wrapped in a $100 bill. Sal loudly guffawed upon the telling of this parody, each anecdotal detail was met with uproarious laughter by Sal; laughter that quickly dissipated.
Following the group’s shared laughter at Bob’s light hearted parody, Sal pushed back from the table, commencing into a ‘yoga pose’. Rocking back in his chair, Sal lifted his leg as high as possible, wrapped his arm under thigh, eyes closed. In his pose, Sal was head and chest back, legs spread, anus forward; he didn’t ‘stretch’ the other leg.
One of the guys gathered around the ‘old guy’ coffee table was Frank. Frank listened, engaged, told brief stories of his past, while offering anecdotal information and analysis. Frank liked sporting, building, writing, art history and smart women. Frank is also thought of as being a bit intense.
Getting to Know
Frank and Sal were initially drawn to each other. Frank, being new to the neighborhood, was open to new friends and neighbors; while Sal also appeared to be some type of coffee-shop leader, by virtue of his presence, tone and tendency to appoint himself at the head of the table.
These two guys both sought to get to know one another. Sal was intrigued to learn that Frank was an engineer and project manager. Frank was equally intrigued to learn that Sal was apparently a bicyclist, (despite being 6’2” and over 220 lbs.), and traveler.
Frank was a maker, a builder of stuff; structures, systems, writings and strange looking arty objects. Learning that Sal was a legislative lobbyist, a type of work heretofore unknown to Frank, he soon asked for Sal’s website to learn more about Sal and his business.
“I don’t have a website. Why would I need a website.” Sal responded.
Frank was a bit surprised by Sal’s naiveté about which, by then, was a common business communication method. To Frank’s mind a website is analogous to a business card or phone number; essential to communicating a message.
“Really Sal? In my estimation, a website is a fundamental to conducting business.”, replied Frank, who had projected his business website for fourteen years.
“What do you mean by saying fundamental?, retorted Sal, perhaps equally surprised by Frank’s critique.
“Fundamentally, when communicating with potential clients or legislators a lobbying firm without a website would, at first blush, be considered inferior to those firms with a web presence.”
“Inferior?”, queried Sal.
“Yes, inferior. If I was seeking a lobbying firm to represent my interests I would expect to find their area of expertise, references and business philosophy on the Internet.”, replied Frank matter-of-factly.
Sal became reflective. Soon after, he began asking questions about how to establish a website. Frank provided him with advice about establishing a domain, how to engage with an ‘Internet Service Provider’ and methods for developing the software.
Sal responded to Frank’s consulting with the word, “Great”.
Understanding
Thinking perhaps he had met a guy who shared his interests, Frank engaged readily with Sal, answering his personal and professional questions, plus dispensing engineering experience.
That Spring Frank invited Sal to become a sailing crew member on his small racing sloop, the boat required a crew of three. Sal took him up and they soon calendared a race day. Frank explained he was seeking crew to race the Spring series that season, that he was willing to train Sal if he would race most of the series. Sal eagerly agreed.
The Spring race series was a set of typical ‘club races’, among friends for bragging right; nothing more.
On race day Frank arrived early, preparing and launching the boat while explaining the basics of sailing. Sal expressed eagerness, clearly enjoying all the pre-race bustle and socializing.
“Thank you for taking me out today”, Sal told Frank as they were heading out to the race course.
The races were uneventful, typical fun. Sal performed novice sailor tasks, primarily hiking-out on the windward side to level the boat. After concluding three races that day, Sal was eager to join the after-race party at the clubhouse. Frank joined the party forty minutes later after ‘putting away’ the sloop.
A week after their initial race Frank approached Sal about the coming race in two weeks, expecting that Sal was planning to crew.
“I know some guys that might like to go”, Sal said.
Frank was nonplussed by this response, expecting after their previous discussions that Sal was engaged for most of the series, just four Saturdays. Frank would have recruited a committed alternative had he known Sal’s interest was only superficial.
‘Hmmm…’, thought Frank, a little pissed-off that he had spent time and effort training a novice, only to be conned into taking him on a ‘picnic’.
One Summer day Sal announced he was enamored with a new goal, that of property developer, despite an absence of experience. Sal had a target for his goal, modernizing the historic “Eastern Star Hall”, a Romanesque Revival structure listed on the national list of historic places.
Despite previous indicators, Frank, with his typical enthusiasm to build, was attracted to the idea; wanted to ‘check it out’. Following coffee, Frank and Sal rode their bikes the short distance to the Eastern Star. Frank rode his steel frame urban fixie, Sal on his carbon-fiber ‘Cervelo’ while wearing flip-flops. His carbon bike had no pedal clips.
Arriving at the Eastern Star, just across from Sutter’s Fort, the two looked over the ‘Star’ from a short distance. Frank had brought his binoculars to examine the facade in detail and assess the structure and inherent limitations.
“It appears that aspects of the building are designed with a notion of the ‘Golden Ratio’, Frank remarked while peering through the binoculars.
“Golden Ratio, what’s that?” Sal asked. A normal question.
“Golden Ratio is the ancient value representing the most aesthetically appealing proportion of a rectangle”, Frank replied while continuing his binocular inspection.
“Really!”, exclaimed Sal.
“Yeah, really. The ratio is an ancient number, found in many historic buildings, throughout nature and a subject of mathematical study. The number even has its own name, ‘Phi’, just like Pi which is a name for a special number.
Sal was now intrigued and soon began pumping Frank with questions about Phi. Sal sought to perceive that the building itself was Phi proportional, which it was not. Frank explained that the entire building does not adhere to the ratio, but perhaps the windows and entrance portico was proportionally approximate to Phi. Sal ignored this distinction.
Like his other visions, the Eastern Star idea faded within a few weeks, the building soon repurposed by a software development company.
Sal moved on to an alternate project, the remodeling of a former medical office building. Sal was connected to old families and personally knew the owners who had invested in the property decades earlier. Sal correctly anticipated an inside track to the acquisition of the building.
“Will you come over to look at a building that I am interested in remodeling?” Sal asked Frank one morning.
“Sure”, replied Frank, always ready for analysis and making stuff.
Sal and Frank rode to the building, a 1970’s type office structure, currently enclosed by a temporary chain-link fence, the exterior decorated with graffiti.
The project included many complexities, not the least being pressure from the city to remediate the nuisance. Frank and Sal talked it over for an hour, walking the perimeter and noting pertinent issues. During their inspection the owner arrived and spoke with Sal regarding his interest. She welcomed his offer and reminded him others were also planning to make an offer, one of whom was the nearby hospital that needed the basement parking garage.
The two men thereafter left the building and parted ways.
Frank being a ‘maker’ was consumed for a day with the tumble of competing issues, and according to his nature, needed to deconstruct the complexity. More than anything else, Frank needed to ‘write-it-up’ in a brief analysis paper, just in order to calm his mind and put the project to rest. Thus he did, the burden of a maker.
Over coffee during one of the following days, about a week later, Frank queried Sal, “How’s the project going?”
Sal stated that he was attempting to make a proposal.
“Cool Sal, what have you come up with?”, Frank asked.
“Thinking it over, talking to the owner. I want to speak with the hospital”, Sal replied.
“Have you put anything together?”, Frank asked.
“What do you mean, put anything together?”, Sal asked in response.
“I mean, have you written any notes or numbers?”, Frank clarified the obvious.
“No, not yet”, was Sal’s rejoinder.
Sal began to push back from the table, lean back on his chair, preparing to pose.
Observing Sal’s detachment, Frank offered that he had created an analysis brief outlining his observations, possible approaches and financing.
Sensing a moment of opportunity Sal now leaned forward, becoming keen to engage once again, asking Frank to describe his analysis. Frank did so. The two parted that morning with an intention to talk it over again. Frank was happy to have an audience for his work, despite having no expectation of results.
Frank returned to his home remodeling project that Saturday, not giving Sal’s project another thought. Perhaps he would provide the brief for Sal’s attention during their next coffee shop conversation.
That afternoon Frank received a text from Sal requesting the brief. Being engaged in work, Frank made a mental note to contact Sal the next morning, then returned to his work. A second text arrived two hours later, again asking for Frank’s work product.
Frank became a bit miffed, ‘What’s the big rush? Nothing has happened for weeks.’, mused Frank.
Frank sent the file later that evening, there was no reply. The project was never mentioned by Sal again, apparently just another fancy idea.
Knowing
‘Enough of that shit! Three strikes you’re out’, Frank’s social philosophy.
Intentionally use or abuse, fail to acknowledge generosity or seek to deceive during the course of three discrete instances, in general, and one is no longer trusted. Time to disengage. Sal had topped Frank’s threshold within a few months of their first encounter.
‘Ok’, Frank mused, ‘That’s the end of it; this guy is just posing as a leader, as a capable guy.’
During coffee shop discussion, one winter day, Frank offered the term ‘identity politics’ to describe the current political state of ‘liberals’ and specifically the Democratic Party.
Sal, being a political animal, a lobbyist, responded quickly.
“What do you mean identity politics?”
Frank, now being accustomed by Sal’s style, responded without a hint of a conciliatory tone, “I mean the political fracturing of the country, especially within the Democratic Party, based on group identities”
Sal was not satisfied, responding in a firm tone, “What do you mean ‘group identity?”
“Really Sal?”, responded Frank, no longer willing to helpfully elaborate his thinking for Sal’s benefit.
Sal’s quizzical look demanded an answer. The other guys were also waiting for an explanation.
“I mean that current political discourse is now largely defined by separate groups that are focused on their specific rights, rather than a shared ideology”, Frank replied matter of factly.
“Groups, what do you mean groups?”, Sal pumped, unable to fill in the gaps.
“Groups like gays, blacks, hispanics, regional factions, evangelicals and all the other caucus’ you seek to influence at the State legislature.”, Frank replied, now with a touch of sarcasm.
“Oh.”, said Sal, perhaps a bit surprised by the direct reference to his projected area of expertise.
Sal pushed his chair back and began a ‘yoga’ pose, starting with his leg lift. Frank quickly turned away, engaging with the others in the most recent funny facilitated by Bob.
Leadership
The following year, during a coffee shop Summer morning, Sal announced he was about to undertake a political career. Having been a lobbyist for many years, and a “Chief of Staff” for a California assemblyman, (a role for which he was immensely proud), Sal felt he was eminently qualified for a leadership role in his hometown.
The liberal State capitol of California had been the sole basis of Sal’s political experience; all of that within the confines of Sacramento, the State Capitol. Working among liberal elite State legislators of that great “Golden State”, Sal had become one of them, a ‘liberal elitist’. Wielding a patrician style of government, the liberal elites projected a ‘we will take care of you’ approach which they assumed would best support the interests of their ‘working class’ constituents.
During one of Sal’s coffee shop ‘cabinet sessions’ (as he called them), in response to the significant problem of illegal immigration, Sal claimed, “illegal immigrants can be trained to perform labor and services for the professional class, giving them a place in our society”.
Frank was dumbstruck by this statement.
“Do you have any idea of what you have just proposed?”, asked Frank.
“What do you mean?”, replied Sal, his standard response to buy time and collect himself.
“I mean Sal, that you are suggesting a plantation economy, a modern feudalism”, said Frank.
The retort lingered for moment among the guys. While the California economy depended on migrants for construction labor, domestic work, agriculture and so many other essential tasks, the idea that this arrangement could become institutionalized, like the ‘bracero program’ of the 1950’s, was unthinkable in the present day.
“Well, we have the votes”, fumbled Sal
Frank attacked with, “You have the votes for this? Where?”,
“In the legislature. We have the votes”, Sal replied, firming in his stature, now sitting tall, not even considering that his suggestion was likely unconstitutional.
“Your suggestion borders on the Machiavellian, Sal”, Frank stated, alluding to the flagrant abuse of power for political gain.
“What do you mean Machiavellian?”, Sal asked, growing testy, unaccustomed to being questioned on political thought.
“I mean the political themes laid down by Machiavelli in ’The Prince’”, Frank replied.
Sal was now feeling challenged and needed to assert his political bona-fides.
“What part of the 124 pages of the ‘The Prince’ are you referring to?”, Sal asserted with authority. (There are 164 pages.)
Frank was struck by the shallowness of Sal’s response. By citing the number of pages within ‘The Prince’, Sal was attempting to project a position of expertise, that he was fully informed regarding the tome. Yet to Frank, it was apparent Sal had missed the point, or worse, had not read the book.
Frank replied without rancor, “‘Machiavellian’ is a standard political adjective used to illustrate the abuse power for political gain. To retain power ruthlessly. That is the meaning of ‘Machiavellian’. The term is not used within the book, yet the meaning is pervasively understood.”
Sal straightened his back while sliding his chair backwards from the table. Soon after the word ‘Machiavellian’ was first uttered, the other guys had detached from the discussion. Bob was telling a funny; Sal was initiating his yoga pose; Frank was shaking his head, wondering how a political-science student, a legislative lobbyist and aspiring politician could miss the fundamental theme of ‘The Prince’, a seminal political treatise.
Sal campaigned in the district of his upbringing, the neighborhood of his youth where he once rode trikes and played with the now current voting body of home owners. Sal was well known in the local voting district.
“Let’s get back to Common Sense’, was Sal’s campaign theme, expressed in yard signs and pamphlets.
To his surprise, Frank returned to his home one Fall afternoon to find such a yard sign planted in the ground. Frank was not one to call out people for lacking common sense, that being the implied meaning of the phrase and quickly removed the offending sign.
Perhaps by virtue of connections in the community, coupled with hard campaigning, Sal prevailed over his sole opponent, a transplant from outside the region.
Sal was now a city council member, one of five. Sal was keen on his new role and appeared to relish the moment when speaking on the record during proceedings. Indeed, Sal did project a physically commanding presence on the dais, speaking with a measured tone and deliberate cadence during his speeches.
Perhaps seeking to elevate his position to mayor or legislature in the future, Sal sought to create a legacy in his role as councilman. Sal wanted a big budget infrastructure project to elevate his stature, something he could champion.
Sal’s city was in need of two key infrastructure projects: a sewage treatment plant upgrade and a downtown parking garage. The sewage treatment infrastructure was a significant undertaking; projected to be a ten year development effort that required a citywide referendum to approve bond funding. The site and design for the garage project had been approved previously, the only remaining obstacle was a funding source to service bond financing. Not a trivial obstacle.
Sal solicited advice from his coffee shop “cabinet”. The coffee guys noted the sewage treatment was a critical need, mandated by both the Federal and State governments. The financial costs of inaction were potentially significant, given the possible fines to be imposed by State and Federal agencies for violation of environmental regulations. Frank noted that the stewardship of our river and the city’s standing was at risk to downstream communities with inaction.
Sal was inclined to undertake the parking garage project, citing the relatively short two year project duration; plus Sal perceived an absence of complexity. To Sal, the parking garage project was ‘low hanging fruit’, an easy win.
Council meetings wore on for months, during which time Sal solicited his ‘coffee shop cabinet’ for advice. Sal’s preferred form of research was ‘expert interview’; that is, posing pointed questions to experienced people in order to fill-in the gaps of his understanding of a subject. Sal sought an understanding of construction financing via municipal bond funding.
Outside of Frank’s experience, Sal’s coffee shop cabinet possessed no background in funding, bond sales or the complex language of finance. Frank however was a project manager at the Department of Finance, a fellow who performed original research, developed software and participated in producing the State budget.
Sal exclaimed one early morning to his ‘cabinet’, “I have found it”.
“Found what, Sal? Your nose?”, asked Bob.
“I found the revenue stream to fund my bond”, Sal replied.
“You have a bond with someone?”, deadpanned Bob. Never missing an opportunity to get cheap joke into the mix.
Sal was about to engage in his yoga pose when Frank followed through on Sal’s point, remarking, “Great, Sal. That is a big step. What did you find?”
Sal was relieved by Frank’s enjoinder and began relaxing his pose, now leaning forward toward the guys at the table.
“Cannabis!”, Sal blurted.
The table became silent in a moment. Some of the older guys shook their heads or smirked, one chuckled.
The recent legalization of cannabis in California had created the potential for a new municipal revenue stream by special taxation of retail sales within the city. Recreational cannabis retail businesses were soon to be licensed within city limits, subject to a special 20% ‘cannabis tax’ on all revenue, plus the standard sales tax.
This appeared to be a potentially good idea. Sal had identified a new and untapped revenue stream, one with the potential of a gold rush. Plus, Sal was a city council member, influential in the granting of cannabis business licenses.
Frank was impressed. “Perhaps you are onto something”, he said.
Sal lit up, that message being the affirmation he sought. Sal began to outline his vision, estimating 50 licensed dispensaries in the City limits within 2 years, each dispensary generating $200 in city tax revenue per day. Sal did not elaborate his reasoning for arriving at these numbers.
The coffee guys were impressed, noting this amounted to over three million dollars of tax revenue per year; certainly sufficient for servicing a ‘parking garage bond’.
Frank remained silent, thinking the estimate was guess work, ‘pie in the sky’ numbers, created from wishful thinking and numerical simplicity, rather than cold calculation. ‘Ten thousand per day, not going to happen’, Frank mused.
By this time in their ‘relationship’ Frank had withdrawn from advising Sal; he no longer authored analysis papers or estimates supporting Sal’s interests.
Sal glanced towards Frank for approval after announcing his numbers.
“How did you arrive at these numbers?”, Frank queried.
Sal pretended to not hear the question.
Frank turned away to Bob, the funny man, who had cracked, “What have you been smoking!”
The coffee guys all laughed and Bob quickly reassured Sal he meant no disrespect. Frank neither laughed nor reassured, remaining silent.
However, Sal was not a smoker; he was dead serious in his numbers and intent.
Sal announced his intention at the following City Council meeting. Wearing his signature ‘Nehru’ style shirt and jacket, he proposed the sale of a 30 year municipal bond of $20 million, to be serviced by the city’s new ‘cannabis tax’.
Derisive howls erupted from the die-hard audience of local political wonks in attendance.
Sal was not dismayed or shaken in his resolve. Armed with figures from the five licensed medical cannabis dispensaries, Sal resolutely projected his numbers forward. Standing at the dais, guessing about full scale licensing within city limits, Sal made his pitch for the potential untapped funds.
Commercial sale of cannabis had been recently legalized by a state-wide referendum; the law was set to take effect at the beginning of the new year, just four months hence. While ‘medical’ use of cannabis had been legalized for almost ten years, and enforcement of underground sales and consumption was not existent, commercial cannabis sales for recreational use was new. At the time of Sal’s proposal, outside of the five medical outlets, there were no commercial cannabis sales licensed within the Sacramento city limits.
Sal was prepared for the eruption of cynicism having developed ‘talking points’ describing his estimated revenue based on the five existing medical dispensaries. Reasoning persuasively, he concluded that the current cannabis sales volume and tax revenue represented a ‘tip-of-the-iceberg’ scenario.
The medical dispensary businesses were booming, generating steady revenue for Sacramento. With just five medical dispensaries, the revenue indicators suggested a significant untapped customer base, particularly given a medical doctor’s paid prescription was required for purchasing medical cannabis.
The first reading of Sal’s’s bill authorizing his ‘Cannabis Bond’ was inconsequential. His fellow council members responded with a mixed reaction. The audience was however impressed with Sal’s rhetoric. Frank did not attend the first reading.
Sal is a lobbyist, a fellow who is persuasive, one who reads social signals and adjusts his message and tone to please others. After the first reading Sal ‘went to work’ among his fellow council members, lobbying each one separately. Sal went to lunch with some, hosted a barbecue for another, using his persuasion and charm to convince his colleagues of the plausibility of his proposal.
The second reading was more convivial. Having introduced the subject previously, the audience was now more receptive, the politically liberal council more compliant.
Sal projected a commanding presence on the dais. He stood while pointing to his poster boards, accentuating the revenue guesses. Sal’s rhetorical style instilled belief in his ‘talking points’.
Sal brought ‘expert’ testimony to his second reading, including potential dispensary licensees and two ‘gray haired pony tail boomers’ who testified of their lifelong smoking habits and their wish to avoid the seedy process of purchasing from street dealers.
Concerned about the City’s reputation, one speaker mentioned the morality of cannabis sales. The notion of reputation was ignored.
Frank attended the second reading, but did not speak on the record. The second reading was gaveled closed without significant dissent.
A month later the parking garage bond was calendared for vote. Those in attendance were talking about the current winter storm. Frank sat alone within the chambers.
The clerk announced the final reading and call for vote on the bond. After reading the resolution text and querying each council member for comment, the mayor then asked for comment from the treasurer. The treasurer, soon to be retired, offered concern, but no dissent.
The mayor then asked for final comments from the audience. Frank looked about for others to raise hands or approach the lectern. One audience member, a young adult woman, a business student, rose and spoke. She spoke eloquently about the need to legalize cannabis to reduce street crime and offered that she knew many others who ‘felt’ the same way as she.
Frank was granted permission to speak. He commented that the revenue estimates lacked sufficient research. Stating, “the estimates are based on projected needs, not actual revenues. Plus, there is no comparative analysis with other municipalities.”
Sal sat a bit taller in his council seat. Taking the lead in response, he argued that now was an opportunity not to be missed; also noting there was no comparative analysis because legal cannabis has no record.
Frank spoke up with one final effort, “Why do we need to be first?”
“The potential tax revenue is great.”, Sal stated again.
Following Sal’s strong willed rebuttal, there were no further dissenting comments.
The resolution came to a vote that evening, passing with a six-to-three approval. The mayor dissented, plus the only two ‘conservative’ members.
The municipal bond was soon issued and acquired without delay.
One Year Later
Sacramento licensed ten retail cannabis businesses during the first year of legal sales. At the time, there were twelve other applications pending, but bureaucracy and concerns regarding applicant backgrounds were delaying their license.
At the same time, the unanticipated licensing of retail cannabis shops was proceeding rapidly at the city’s edge, in the unincorporated areas. These establishments realized the less onerous licensing requirements and reduced tax rates outside the city limits would provide a business advantage. The city was soon ringed with new outlets offering lower priced product housed in industrial facilities.
Within twenty-six months of legal California cannabis sales the City of Sacramento was beginning to realize expected revenue from retail cannabis was not likely to materialize. The city limits included fourteen retail outlets, plus the five medical cannabis dispensaries, with total revenue less than 30% of the anticipated amount.
The fourth bond payment was now due, yet the city treasury was not sufficiently funded to service the debt. There was little recourse; retail license applications had diminished, businesses preferring the unincorporated area. Lowering the cannabis tax was not a viable option. The council was left with the unenviable decision of bond payment default or cutting city services elsewhere to transfer funds.
The city council called a special session to address the revenue shortfall. News of the problem and necessary decisions raced through city hall. Soon after word leaked to citizens.
The special session was packed, the mood angry.
“How can this happen?”, one citizen shouted
“Who is in charge here? Where are the professionals?”, called another.
The session was gaveled to order. The city treasurer disclosed the problem, outlining the alternatives. Sacramento could cut services, the easiest cut being Parks and Recreation or libraries; or default on bond payment.
The outcry concerning Parks and Recreation was loud and immediate.
“How dare you?”, yelled a soccer mom.
“No way”, was another.
The treasurer described that failing a payment would jeopardize Sacramento’s bond rating. People responded with blank looks.
“What does that mean?”, was one outcry.
The treasurer sighed and made a brief explanation, then offered to discuss the matter in detail during a special setting. “The city’s bond rating, already down to ‘three stars’, would likely drop, resulting in higher interest rates for future bond issues, jeopardizing other projects.” , she concluded.
A pause ensued following the outcry, which Sal then took to propose an alternative. The crowd became quiet, but not silent, allowing Sal the opening he sought to make his point, his ‘solution’.
“The city has underutilized assets that can be liquidated to retire the bond”, he stated.
“You should retire”, someone yelled.
Not shaken by the heckler, Sal pushed on.
“We have two underused public golf courses within the city, just one could be sold to pay-off the bond”.
The crowd erupted in anger and indignation. While not a bad idea, with Sal not being a golfer or sporting man, he was oblivious to the passion of golf people towards protecting their life style.
A local journalist bolted from the chambers upon hearing Sal’s idea. The mayor banged his gavel repeatedly, call to order. Sal sat stunned, unprepared for the vituperative response. His fellow council members looked at him quizzically, with an ‘are you out of your mind’ expression. Sal had not spoken to others of his ‘solution”.
The time was winter. There had been no action on the sewage treatment problem. Financing on this significant civic project was stalled in discussion.
During that particular winter season a unique weather phenomena often affecting California formed in the mid Pacific. An “atmospheric river”, a narrow band of high intensity moisture pushed by the “jet-stream”, took aim on mid-state California. This band of moisture was tight, laden with water, and was moving directly toward the Sacramento region. Meteorologists claim the water content of such an atmospheric river to be equivalent to that of the great Mississippi.
There was little to be done except clean the storm drains and sandbag the low spots; then wait.
The deluge arrived on cue, pouring hard in a tight band of sixty to eighty miles north-to-south. Not the broad frontal storms that originate in the Gulf of Alaska, but a virtual mega-river originating in the moisture laden northern tropical waters surrounding Hawaii. But this event was not the typical ‘pineapple express’ familiar to Californians, but one of Biblical proportion.
The Yuba and American rivers soon reached capacity. Gates on the flood control dams were soon opened wide, releasing maximum flow downstream. Levees became saturated, some were breached. In Sacramento the creeks reached maximum flow, backed up due to high river level.
Just as had been warned a decade earlier, the inadequate sewage treatment plant was overwhelmed. Beyond overwhelmed, the infrastructure was severely damaged when pumps and backup systems became submerged.
In the aftermath, while the city dried out, assessments revealed damage to the facility was beyond repair. New and costly infrastructure was necessary immediately, yet there was scant funding available.
During the following emergency meeting the city council addressed the problem. The mayor reassured the public that Federal funding was available to rescue the city; but the treasurer intervened during this reassurance.
“The city does not have the necessary funds to match their required share”, she stated, following with “In addition, both the Federal and California environmental agencies have levied fines against the city for violation of clean water statues. The fines are currently accumulating daily.”
Stunned silence filled the room.
Continuing, she stated matter-of-factly that, “the bond rating of the city has been lowered by financial institutions due to the recent bond payment default; thus our ability to borrow money at an affordable rate is diminished.”
Sal was not in attendance.