Whatever Archives — Page 49 of 81 — San Francisco Bay Guardian Archive 1966

Godzilla versus Mothra: the LBAM sequel

Mary Magee

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April 22, 2010

It seems like only the other day that the Guardian broke the news that the California Department of Food and Agriculture was threatening to spray San Francisco with moth pheromones, based on controversial estimates of a tiny invasive moth’s economic and environmental impacts.

That program was stopped, but not before residents of Santa Cruz and Monterey were subjected to repeated spraying by low-flying crop dusters, and questions were raised about the economic and political motivations behind the push to spray.

And now, on the 4oth anniversary of Earth Day, City Attorney Dennis Herrera has announced that San Francisco is joining a coalition of cities and health, environmental and mothers’ groups in a lawsuit that challenges the state’s current light brown apple moth (LBAM) eradication program.

Filed in Alameda County Superior Court today, the civil lawsuit charges that the final programmatic Environmental Impact Report for the program is not based on sound science, and is invalidated because the program’s objective was changed from eradicating to merely controlling the moth, after the EIR was finished.

“The California Department of Food and Agriculture (CDFA) has produced an environmental impact report that raises many more questions than it answers,” Herrera said in a press release. “After combing through this document, it is literally impossible to say with certainty what CDFA plans to do, or when and where it plans to do it. To confuse matters further, the eradication program under review was subsequently morphed into a ‘control, contain and suppress’ program-whatever that means.”

Copies of case documents are available at the City Attorney’s website.

FEAST: 6 voluptuous buns

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

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April 21, 2010

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Pools of ink and its electronic equivalent have been expended helping SF’s legions of night-crawlers find the best drinks, beats, and eats. Not so for our less numerous early-risers. But there are plenty of reasons to get up early: seagulls materializing out of the fog, the sun rising over the bay, first pressings at Ritual, parking spaces, and, perhaps most important, morning buns. Specifically, warm morning buns.

Unlike the Associazione Verace Pizza Napoletana‘s rules on pizza (dough no higher than 1/8 inch thick, hand-kneaded only), the French-inspired morning bun has some latitude. Buns can be made with brioche dough or croissant dough; flavored with cinnamon, or orange, or both. Puff pastry does not raise cries of quelle horreur! But whatever the yeast-risen dough base, the ideal MB should be a “turned” pastry, layered with butter and spices, then dusted with sugar and baked to caramelized crispness. Nuts, raisins, or frosting mean you have strayed — egad — into snail or danish territory.

Like bagels, MBs also are the perfect food ephemera. By 9:30 a.m. the chances of finding a still-warm one have passed. By 11 a.m., they have aged out completely. So set your alarm and get in line. (Diane Sussman)

SANDBOX BAKERY

This small Bernal Heights newcomer is already making a name for itself for its superlative sandwiches, kashi pans, and pastries (I’m talking to you, Valrhona pain au chocolat), and its MB is no exception. Starting with a brioche dough, Sandbox MB has a crisp, flaky top that gives way to fragrant, generous layers of cinnamon, sugar, and orange doughy bliss. Even better, this is one bun source where you can still get a warm one even if you sleep in (sort of). Although the bakery opens at 7 a.m., one staffer revealed that its MBs don’t usually come out of the oven until 7:30.

833 Cortland, SF. (415) 642-8580. www.sandboxbakerysf.com

TARTINE BAKERY

Scoring an MB at Tartine requires a strategy. Well before it opens (times vary), Tartine has lines out the door. Granted, not everyone is there for an MB, but that doesn’t alleviate fears among MB heads that the person ahead of you line won’t order five dozen. In addition, Tartine Mbers have subgenres of preferences, preferring “light on the bottom.” But not to worry. All colors of Tartine’s MBs (which start with croissant dough) have crisp, sweet, flaky, muffin-like tops with soft, yeasty, buttery centers sprinkled with orange, cinnamon, and sugar. In addition to competition, Tartine’s MBs are also more expensive ($3.75 compared to $2–$2.50 elsewhere).

600 Guerrero, SF. (415) 487-2600. www.tartinebakery.com

DELESSIO MARKET AND BAKERY

Delessio is the MB slug-a-bed’s dream joint. The combination deli-bakery doesn’t open until 8 a.m., and even then the bakers often run 10 to 15 minutes late. (Value add: sometimes the friendly staff will let you pluck your own MB from the cooling rack — use paper!). Delessio’s offering is moist, flaky (it uses a brioche dough), not too sweet, and generous with cinnamon. Delessio does have one tragic flaw, though: it doesn’t bake those buns every day. Call first or learn a vital lesson in flexibility with the breakfast brioche.

1695 Market and 302 Broderick, SF. (415) 552-5559 and (415) 552-8077. www.delessiomarket.com

LA BOULANGE

Stare into one of the pastry cases at Boulange and you’ll see the signs for “morning buns.” But Boulange’s morning bun isn’t really a morning bun, as one staff member readily acknowledged. “We call them cinnamon-orange buns,” she said. “They are our own version of morning buns.” Starting with a croissant dough, Boulange MBs are flatter and rounder than a traditional morning bun, don’t have the crispy, caramelized sugar muffin top, and have a bit more orange than others. While purists may shriek, “Wrong!” iconoclasts are likely to counter with “Nice!” (Whole Foods also carries Boulange’s buns in its bakery cases.)

Various locations, www.laboulange.com

MATCHING HALF CAFE

The small neighborhood café at the corner of Fulton and Baker streets in the Panhandle doesn’t bake its own MBs, but it does get a daily stash from Bakers of Paris. Shunning tradition, Bakers of Paris uses puff pastry and rolls its version with orange zest, making for a light, refreshingly acidic, not too sweet treat. Although you can’t get one fresh out of the oven (Bakers of Paris’ bakery is in Brisbane), Matching Half staff will heat it up for you. (Bakers of Paris also sells its buns at the Sunday farmers markets on Grove in the Divis Corridor and Irving in the Inner Sunset.)

1799 McAllister, SF. (415) 674-8699. www.matchinghalfcafe.com

SEMIFREDDI’S

Sorry, you can’t go to the source, and you won’t get a warm one. But if you have access to a warming device — and you can wait — you can opt for one of Semifreddi’s goodies. The bakery, which has its baking operations in the East Bay and no retail outlet, trucks its wonderfully carmelized, brioche-based MBs to numerous grocery stores, including Mollie Stone’s, Berkeley Bowl, and Faletti Market. Perfect for when you really slept late. www.semifreddis.com

“Pop-up is live”

David Talbot

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April 21, 2010

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Pop- Up Magazine issue #3 came out on Friday, and so did the lucky 900+ people who managed to get tickets before the box office server crashed in five minutes and the show sold out in 30. Pop-Up Magazine is a live magazine, where live-ness becomes it’s own medium and journalists, artists and innovators present short, informative, non-fiction projects from a broad range of subjects to an enthralled audience.

The projects can consist of pieces of stories, documentaries, films, interviews, facts, radio, or anything else that presenters are excited about presenting to a crowd. Pop-Up mostly consists of works in progress. Editor in Chief Douglas McGray elaborated, “we encourage people, as much as possible, to take advantage of live-ness as a medium. And in most cases, if someone is sharing work in progress, the final product is not going to be live. Basically, we ask people what they’re excited about. What they’d enjoy sharing with a crowd. This is what leads people to share work in progress. Because, as writers, or filmmakers, or photographers, or whatever, we tend to be excited about what we’re working on at the moment. But then the act of sharing it with a live crowd tends to transform it.” And it most certainly does transform the work, adding an additional dimension to each story that includes sharing the experience with the interested people around you.

Pop-Up afterparty on the Herbst theater balcony

There is no overarching theme or rehearsals and the format is open creating a rare experience for both those presenting and watching. According to McGray, the concept for Pop-Up Magazine came from pop-up books, “flat, printed things that spring up into three dimensions” and not Pop-Up retail, though he says “it creates a nice double meaning.”

Laura Brunow Miner, aka Pictory, kicked off the evening by stating that she “collects photo stories” and presented a narrated photo slide show titled, Sorry, Mom, where each portrait was accompanied by a gracious apology for the story tellers’ mother, and I think, subsequently all mothers, who tend to receive more accusations than apologies.

Jon Mooallem, the contributing writer for New York Times Magazine who wrote the Easter morning cover story about the science and politics of gay animals, took viewers on a factoid journey about the surprising frequency that lost wallets are returned to their owners, sometimes decades after being lost. Mooallem tells of wallet uncovered in vents, walls, and army barracks that have traversed time, state borders, and lost hope. Mooallem likens the experience to “being reunited with an artifact from the back pocket of your former self.” But he doesn’t discount that maybe these artifacts are more valuable for the people who discover them, who are perhaps being reminded that when they move on, a part of themselves might one day be found, and given importance to, by a stranger decades later.

Ever wonder why, in a culture that strives to mechanize as much as possible, there are sign spinners? You know, those human easels who stand on highly trafficked street corners spinning, shaking, or as the feature “Sign Spinners” footage showed, dancing? Jamie Meltzer put some faces to this elusive subculture of people, accompanied by live country twang music, with footage of the bored, creative, and sometimes whacky styles that sign spinners employ for their trade.

Viewers were even treated to some music education when the Guardian’s Art Director Mirissa Neff played audio and video samples of Fado music, a Portuguese tradition of mournful folk music, that was, as we found out, influencial in the 1974 Portuguese revolution. Aside from her day job at the Guardian, Neff is a reporter for PBS’s Sound Tracks, a series that explores world cultures through music, and also goes by the alias of DJ Felina.

Some of the presentations were so filled with suspense that audience members were holding their breath and at the edge of their seats. Joe Richman, the founder of Radio Diaries, an organization that helps people document their own lives, and Bridgette McGee-Robinson presented “The End of Willie McGee,” which told the story of the execution by electric chair of Willie McGee, Bridgette’s grandfather and a black man, who was sentenced to death in 1951 for alledgedly raping a white woman. The presenters took us on a quest to find out what really happened, which included an audio recording of the generator used to power the electric chair, the only electric chair in the state of Mississippi at the time that therefore traveled from courthouse to courthouse to dispatch death sentences, and culminated in an audio interview with the son of the prosecutor involved in the trail. During the interview, the prosecutor’s son divulges that he remembers the day of the execution well, and recounts how his father left for the jailhouse with a pint of bourbon and a resolve to find out, once and for all, if McGee did it. The segment ended when Bridgette convinces him to tell her what his father found out, which he agrees to do off the record. The tape cut out and Richman and McGee-Robinson admitted that they have not yet decided how to handle that piece of information in the upcoming documentary.

Is there anyone left who isn’t on facebook? Justine Sharrock took a look into the emergence of Guantanamo Bay guards and ex-detainees reuniting on facebook in her talk, “Add as Friend.” Both ex-guards and ex-detainees are forming online communities on Facebook and subsequently gaining closure through apologies and acceptance on this casual forum. Sharrock suggests that the casualness is what’s allowing them to see the bigger picture and move on from feelings of betrayal and guilt.

More from the Pop-Up afterparty

These are only a few examples of the array of stories and topics we heard last Friday night at the Herbst Theater. There were surprising tales of Turkey Vultures (did you know that the German government is training Turkey Vultures to scout for dead bodies?) in Doug Long and Lisa Margonelli’s hilarious interview about these misunderstood local birds. There were tales of espionage and architecture inspired by Christopher Hawthorne’s recent trip to Dubai in “A Dying Art.” Visit Pop-Up Magazine’s website to learn more about this issue’s presenters and to sign up for their email list, so that you can be one of the lucky people perched over the “buy tickets” button on your computer the hour they go on sale, reminiscent of trying to sign up for popular classes in college. And stay tuned for Pop-Up alumni Sam Green and Dave Cerf’s upcoming live documentary, Utopia in Four Movements, part of the San Francisco International Film Festival.

The promotion of the magazine is live too, being almost exclusively word of mouth. McGray doesn’t know when the next issue will come out: “We’re so grateful that people are out there telling their friends about us, or tweeting, or our favorite, rounding up groups of friends to go together. That’s what caused the box office server to crash a few minutes after tickets went on sale. It wasn’t anything we did, really.” But he’s just being modest. In fact, it’s exactly what they’re doing. Pop-Up Magazine offers savvy, information hungry people with a digestible forum for a myriad of interesting projects that are out there, when the alternative is often overload. Everyone I encountered leaving the theater was inspired from experiencing such a range of interesting stories. The stories reminded us that we need look no further than our communities to experience a whole world of information. We all have our own stories to tell, and taken as a whole, each tid bit is a “pop up,” and is relatable to someone. In keeping with their live mantra, Pop-Up Magazine doesn’t photograph or record any portion of the event. Burn the internet, anyway. At the beginning of each Pop-Up Magazine McGray says, “Pop-Up is live;” and lest we forget, so are we.

Top pic picks

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

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April 20, 2010

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The White Meadows (Mohammad Rasoulof, Iran, 2009) This latest by the recently jailed Iranian director of Iron Island (2005) is a stark, visually striking allegory whose natural settings (the salt formations of Lake Urmia) could hardly be more surreal. Aging Rahmat (Hasan Pourshirazi) rows his little boat from one tiny island community to another, collecting tears from variably aggrieved locals so they can be absolved of their sins — just how, neither they or we know. During his latest travels he gains a teenaged stowaway, then a blind-struck painter as passengers; witnesses a couple of village rituals that prove fatal for their main participants; and experiences other curious events that scarcely prompt a raised eyebrow from him. As with so much modern Iranian cinema, Mohammad Rasoulof’s film carefully renders its political symbolism so abstract you can dig endlessly for hidden meanings, or simply lose yourself in the hypnotic black-and-white-in-color imagery of black-clad people on bleached landscapes. Fri/23, 6:30 p.m., Kabuki; Sat/24, 9:30 p.m., Kabuki; Sun/25, 8 p.m., PFA. (Dennis Harvey)

Nymph (Pen-ek Ratanaruang, Thailand, 2009) Boy meets girl. Boy and girl fall in love. Girl cheats on boy with boss. Boy falls in love with tree. So are the broad strokes of Thai director Pen-ek Ratanaruang’s jungle-horror, Nymph, a city-to-country romance that deftly weaves strands of urban anomie, sexual dysfunction, and rural mythos into a dreamy, arboreal fantasia. One might be tempted to reference Lars von Trier’s Antichrist (2009) and fellow Thai helmer Apichatpong Weerasethakul’s 2004 breakout, Tropical Malady, as obvious points of reference, but that would derogate the potency and intensity of Ratanaruang’s singular, artistic design. The director of Last Life in the Universe (2003) and Ploy (2007) creates a tropical mise-en-scène that is less cinematic than immersive, developed largely by his use of tight, suspenseful close-ups, fluid camera work (including a 10-minute opening sequence that is practically gymnastic), and a transfixing ambient score. But unlike Tropical Malady, which leveraged much of its second-half’s novelty from overwrought, homoerotic tropes and a condescending nativism, Nymph‘s descent into the jungle is only the beginning of this powerful love story. Fri/23, 9 p.m., Kabuki; Sat/24, 4:30 p.m., Kabuki; April 28, 4:45 p.m., Kabuki. (Erik Morse)

Around a Small Mountain (Jacques Rivette, France/Italy, 2009) Around a Small Mountain (or 36 vues du Pic Saint Loup) is New Wave doyen Jacques Rivette’s return to the whimsy of 1984’s Love on the Ground, another exploration of theater staring eternal demoiselle Jane Birkin. In Mountain, Birkin plays Kate, a prodigal daughter who has returned to her deceased father’s circus after an unspecified trauma forced her into a 15 year absence. En route she encounters Vittorio (Sergio Castellitto), a peripatetic who instantly discovers in Kate a fellow improviser for his acrobatic feats of conversation. In hopes of learning her secret past, Vittorio follows Kate and her shabby troupe from performance to performance through the tiny towns of the Cevennes. Along the way, Rivette treats his audience to a mish-mash of sideshow sketches, enchanting dialogues and haunting soliloquies, all beneath the magical totem of the big top. The film is spellbinding ode to the theatre of everyday life and the actors who prance in and out of its cirque. Fri/23, 9:30 p.m., Kabuki; Sat/24, 4:15 p.m., Kabuki; April 28, 6:30 p.m., PFA. (Morse)

Way of Nature (Nina Hedenius, Sweden, 2008) Save for when Werner Herzog is doing the talking, documentaries about the natural world often benefit from a lack of voiceover narration. Nature’s seasons, cycles, and rhythms provide their own narrative structure, and simply, silently observing what happens can make for fascinating viewing. Nina Hedenius understands this. Her engrossing year-in-the-life portrait of Lisselbäcka Farm in northern Sweden is cut around creatures great and small — horses, cows, goats, chickens, dogs — and their routines. Although humans are part of the bucolic scene Hedenius so meticulously orchestrates (the sound editing is such that the film would be no less immersive if you watched it blindfolded), they are merely supporting actors. After watching, for the fourth time, another gangly offspring leap to its feet, minutes after being born, you start to realize the ways in which our species is quite helpless. If their keepers suddenly passed away, the animals of Lisselbäcka — domesticated though they may be — would probably manage to carry on. The way of nature is instinct, not mastery. Sat/24, 2 p.m., PFA; Sun/25, 3:45 p.m., Kabuki; Mon/26, 1 p.m., Kabuki; April 28, 6:30 p.m., Kabuki. (Matt Sussman)

Between Two Worlds (Vimukthi Jayasundara, Sri Lanka, 2009) Part vision quest, part historical allegory, Vimukthi Jayasundara’s lush and beguiling head-scratcher unfolds like the mutable folktale told between two fishermen in one of the film’s asides. A synopsis would go something like this: an unnamed South Asian man falls from the sky into an unspecified South Asian country (although the Sinhala the actors speak places us in Sri Lanka) under siege by revolutionaries intent on destroying all means of communication and killing any remaining young men. Fleeing a riot-ravaged city he winds up in the countryside where he reconnects with his sister-in-law, and undergoes several mysterious and mystical experiences at a nearby lake. “It’s possible that one can see today what has happened in the past,” cautions an old man to our protagonist, and Jayasundara — with an eye for arresting mise-en-scene, gorgeously photographed by Channa Deshapriya — attempts to offer a way to re-see the traumas of the civil war that ravaged Sri Lanka for over three decades. Like a freshly remembered dream, Between Two Worlds is as stubbornly oblique as it is hard to shake. Sat/24, 6:15 p.m., Kabuki; Sun/25, 9 p.m., Kabuki; Mon/26, 9:15, Kabuki. (Sussman)

Transcending Lynch (Marcos Andrade, Brazil, 2010) Picture it: everyone’s favorite psycho-thriller filmmaker and coffee retailer waxing beatific about peace, love, and “infinite bliss,” his American Spirit–stained teeth frozen in a perma-grin as he extols the virtues of the “unified field” of consciousness. At certain moments in Transcending Lynch, an exploration of infamous auteur David Lynch and his 35-year devotion to transcendental meditation, the director comes across as flakier than the celebrated piecrust at Twin Peaks‘ Double R diner. (At one point he even utters the phrase “Holy jumping George!”) For the irony-soaked, all the TM talk may be a little TMI, but for Lynch the practice is nothing short of the very source of his creative wellspring. Marcos Andrade’s documentary, which follows Lynch on a 2008 Brazilian book tour, won’t offer the mad-genius Eagle Scout’s more rabid followers much new insight. While the movie strives to be meditative, it’s more of an amalgam of trippy travelogue and pitch meeting. Even more frustrating, we get only teasing glimpses of how TM has directly informed and impacted the artist’s work. Lynch may be on the path to universal enlightenment, but when it comes to the man himself, the rest of us ignoramuses are still mostly in the dark. Sat/24, 6:30pm, Kabuki; Mon/26, 9pm, Kabuki; Tues/27, 12:30pm, Kabuki. (Michelle Devereaux)

14-18: The Noise and the Fury (Jean-Françoise Delassus, France/Belgium, 2009) Made for French TV, Jean-Françoise Delassus’ unclassifiable film would be arresting simply for cobbling together seldom-seen archival footage reflecting all aspects of the First World War, from its leaders to its trenches. But he and co-scenarist Isabelle Rabineau have shaped that footage into a narrative driven by the writings of a (fictional) French everyman soldier who somehow manages to survive and serve in most of its major conflicts. The result melds exquisite color tinting, first-person narration, clips from commercial films about the war (by D.W. Griffith and Chaplin as well as European directors), and ambient sound to create a brilliant kind of living history lesson that makes the events of nearly a century ago seem as immediate as yesterday’s. Mon/26, 4:30 p.m., Kabuki; May 1, 2 p.m., Kabuki; May 3, 9 p.m., Kabuki. (Harvey)

The Peddler (Eduardo de la Serna, Lucas Marcheggiano, and Adriana Yurkovich, Argentina, 2009) Daniel Burmeister is a traveling filmmaker. He drives his infirm jalopy from one small Argentine town to the next, hoping to set up camp for a month and make a movie with the locals. He’ll need food, a place to stay, and a camera. Whatever camera they can find. Usually the mayors are easy to convince, because Burmeister is essentially a regional attraction, a one-man circus they know about from the neighboring towns. It’s this strange repurposing of the filmmaking experience that makes the documentary so distinctive and special. And just watching the old man hustle from shot to shot with his bashful actors, working efficiently from one of the handful of scripts he’s been cycling through for years, is an absolute pleasure. Directors Eduardo de la Serna, Lucas Marcheggiano, and Adriana Yurcovich capture the jury-rigged process with unobtrusive admiration and an absence of condescension. As I watched it I kept thinking it was like the soul that was missing from Michel Gondry’s 2008 warmed-over DIY manifesto Be Kind Rewind. Mon/26, 6:30 p.m., PFA; May 1, 12:30 p.m., Kabuki; May 4, 6:30 p.m., Kabuki. (Jason Shamai)

Russian Lessons (Olga Konskaya and Andrei Nekrasov, Russia/Norway/Georgia, 2010) I remember watching the news two summers ago and feeling confused by the details of the Russia-Georgia War, the culmination of a dispute over the territory of South Ossetia. There seemed to be a haziness about who started what. Russian Lessons offers Olga Konskaya and Andrei Nekrasov’s version of what happened that summer and indicts Russian and mainstream international news organizations for exactly that failure to present a satisfactory chronology. Konskaya, a theater director and documentary producer, filmed events as they unfolded on the Northern end of the conflict while Nekrasov, a veteran documentarian, filmed in the South. The result is a collection of interviews with residents of recently bombed Georgian towns, confrontations with Russian soldiers, and investigations of still-smoldering battle sites. The filmmakers spend an equal amount of time scrutinizing source footage from the war and its antecedents, exposing how it was used to mislead the international community. It’s a disturbing and persuasive rebuttal to the Putin administration’s official side of the story. April 28, 3:15 p.m., Kabuki; April 29, 12:30 p.m., Kabuki; May 1, 6:15 p.m., Kabuki. (Shamai)

Restrepo (Tim Hetherington and Sabastian Junger, USA, 2010) Starting mid-’07, journalists-filmmakers Tim Hetherington and Sebastian Junger spent some 15 months off and on embedded with a U.S. Army platoon in Afghanistan’s Korengal Valley, a Taliban stronghold with steep, mountainous terrain that could hardly be more advantageous for snipers. Particularly once a second, even more isolated outpost is built, the soldiers’ days are fraught with tension, whether they’re ordered out into the open on a mission or staying put under frequent fire. Strictly vérité, with no political commentary overt or otherwise, the documentary could be (and has been) faulted for not having enough of a “narrative arc” — as if life often does, particularly under such extreme circumstances. But it’s harrowingly immediate (the filmmakers themselves often have to dive for cover) and revelatory as a glimpse not just of active warfare, but of the near-impossible challenges particular to foreign armed forces trying to make any kind of “progress” in Afghanistan. April 30, 3:45 p.m., Kabuki; May 2, 4:15 p.m., PFA; May 4, 9:30 p.m., Kabuki. (Harvey)

Animal Heart (Séverine Cornamusaz, France/Switzerland, 2009) This first feature by Séverine Cornamusaz has a story that would have fit just as well into the cinema of 1920 — or the literature of Thomas Hardy or George Eliot 50 years earlier. Paul (Olivier Rabourdin) is the gruff owner of family lands in the Swiss Alps, raising livestock whom he treats better than wife Rosine (Camille Japy). When he’s forced to hire a seasonal hired hand in the form of Eusebio (Antonio Bull), the easygoing Spaniard’s concern for ailing Rosine incites not Paul’s compassion but his brute jealousy. This elemental triangle set amid the severe elements of its spectacularly shot setting has a suitably blunt (but not crude) power; it leads not where you might expect but to a hard-won fadeout of audacious intimacy. April 30, 4 p.m., Clay; May 2, 9:15 p.m., Clay; May 3, 6 p.m., Kabuki. (Harvey)

Henri-Georges Clouzot’s Inferno (Serge Bromberg and Ruxandra Medrea, France, 2009) A painstaking craftsman who left nothing to chance, French suspense master Clouzot (1955’s Diabolique, 1953’s The Wages of Fear) decided to push his own envelope a little in 1964. He cast Serge Reggiani as a resort innkeeper who becomes pathologically, paranoically possessive of his gorgeous wife (Romy Schneider). Convincing himself she’s having an affair, he gradually snaps tether — and the film itself would reflect that downward spiral by increasingly illustrating his mental stage in distortive image and sound. Unfortunately, the project also drove Clouzot mad in a way, as his grapplings at a new filmic language ran counter to the kind of creative discipline that normally storyboarded everything within an inch of its life. Shooting endless footage, spending endless money, he finally admitted defeat and abandoned ship. Never completed, the film’s surviving pieces were restored for this absorbing unmaking-of documentary — even if the original clips, daring then but now looking like psychedelic kitsch, suggest Inferno would likely have been no masterpiece but a fascinating, instantly-dated failure. May 2, 1:45 p.m., Kabuki; May 5, 6:15 p.m., Kabuki. (Harvey)

Presumed Guilty (Roberto Hernández and Geoffrey Smith, Mexico, 2009) A fan of true crime TV programming, I all but take for granted that little coda at the end of each episode reminding viewers that the suspects shown are innocent until proven guilty. I sometimes forget that such rights are not the case in all countries, such as in Mexico where the criminal justice system employs a reverse practice requiring the accused to prove themselves innocent. In Presumed Guilty, filmmakers, lawyers, and UC Berkeley students Roberto Hernández and Layda Negrete use rarely-seen, up-close footage of the Mexican trial process in their effort to exonerate a young Mexico City street vendor who is falsely accused of murder in 2005. The proceedings, which require the defendant to stand for hours on end and are performed sans jury, is riveting stuff for fans of those A&E true crime shows and is sure to ruffle the feathers of a few sympathetic humanitarians. May 2, 3:30 p.m., Kabuki; May 3, 6:30 p.m., PFA; May 6, 3:15 p.m., Kabuki. (Peter Galvin)

Lebanon (Samuel Maoz, Israel, 2009) “Das Boot in a tank” has been the thumbnail summary of writer-director Samuel Maoz’s film in its festival travels to date, during which it’s picked up various prizes including a Venice Golden Lion. On the first day of Israel’s 1982 invasion (which Maoz fought in), an Israeli army tank with a crew of three fairly green 20-somethings — soon joined by a fourth with even less battle experience — crosses the border, enters a city already halfway reduced to rubble, and promptly gets its inhabitants in the worst possible fix, stranded without backup. Highly visceral and, needless to say, claustrophobic (there are almost no exterior shots), Lebanon may for some echo The Hurt Locker (2009) in its intense focus on physical peril. It also echoes that film’s lack of equally gripping character development. But taken on its own willfully narrow terms, this is a potent exercise in squirmy combat you-are-thereness. May 2, 9 p.m., Kabuki; May 5, 9:30 p.m., Kabuki. (Harvey)

The Day God Walked Away (Philippe van Leeuw, France/Belgium, 2009) Director Philippe Van Leeuw states in the press materials that he made The Day God Walked Away in an attempt to understand how the assassins of the 1994 Rwandan genocide could do what they did and how others could stand by and watch. I walked away from Day with a better understanding of what might draw a person to choose defeatism over an unlikely survival. The film opens as a Tutsi housekeeper (Ruth Nirere) finds herself trapped in her Belgian employers’ house, fearing for her children and surrounded by gun-toting murderers. Light on scripted dialogue and featuring local actors, van Leeuw’s nonintrusive filming lends the film an authentic atmosphere that can be slow but is never boring. In lensing the film’s horrific scenes in a simple and matter-of-fact fashion, he eerily replicates the emotional separation that survivors of the massacre were forced to adopt in order to live. May 3, 6:45 p.m., Clay; May 4, 4 p.m., Kabuki; May 5, 4:15 p.m., Kabuki. (Galvin)

The Practice of the Wild (John J. Healey, USA, 2009) “The way I want to use ‘nature’ is to refer to the whole of the physical universe,” explains the poet Gary Snyder in John J. Healy’s succinct but penetrating documentary on the octogenarian poet, essayist, and environmental activist. Snyder’s expansive definition conjoins the two areas to which he has devoted his life and creative practice to better being at peace with: the terrestrial and the existential. Healey provides the back story — covering Snyder’s farmstead childhood, his discovery of his love for the outdoors, his association with the Beats and later immersion in Zen Buddhism, and his two marriages — told in part through the obligatory scan-and-pan photography and contextual talking heads. The film’s highpoints, however, are the many lively conversations Snyder engages in with his friend and fellow writer Jim Harrison, whose grizzled countenance and chirpy demeanor make him a character in his own right. May 3, 6:45 p.m., Kabuki; May 5, 1:30 p.m., Kabuki. (Sussman)

Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work (Ricki Stern and Annie Sundberg, USA, 2010) Whether you’re a fan of its subject or not, Ricki Stern and Annie Sundberg’s documentary is an absorbing look at the business of entertainment, a demanding treadmill that fame doesn’t really make any easier. At 75, comedian Rivers has four decades in the spotlight behind her. Yet despite a high Q rating she finds it difficult to get the top-ranked gigs, no matter that as a workaholic who’ll take anything she could scarcely be more available. Funny onstage (and a lot ruder than on TV), she’s very, very focused off-, dismissive of being called a “trailblazer” when she’s still actively competing with those whose women comics trail she blazed for today’s hot TV guest spot or whatever. Anyone seeking a thorough career overview will have to look elsewhere; this vérité year-in-the-life portrait is, like the lady herself, entertainingly and quite fiercely focused on the here-and-now. May 6, 7 p.m., Castro. (Harvey)

THE 53RD SAN FRANCISCO INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL runs April 22–May 6 at Sundance Kabuki Cinemas, 1881 Post, SF; Clay Theatre, 2261 Fillmore, SF; Castro Theatre, 429 Castro, SF; and the Pacific Film Archive, 2575 Bancroft, SF. Tickets (most shows $12.50) are available by calling (925) 866-9559 or by visiting www.sffs.org>.

Bring it back?

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

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April 20, 2010

0

UPDATE: Oh dear, the Talvin Singh show’s been cancelled. More Volcano fallout? Hopefully he’ll be back soon, tablas in hand.

superego@sfbg.com

SUPER EGO One thing I’ve noticed recently, with equal parts pleasure and mind-warping “oh jeez”-ness, has been the unashamed use of the terms electronica and trip-hop in party promotions. I know we’re in a moment of total 1990s nostalgia — and, yikes, rap-rock was the byword at Coachella, according to the New York Times — but can we finally chuff off the wallpaper blahs of these musty genres and renew them? This week sees a plethora of well-known older acts like Talvin Singh, Bonobo, Signal Path, and Bluetech coming to town — all with live instrumentation. Maybe the moment to reshine has arrived, live? Ping me when DJ Shadow steps up with the Dap-Kings or Boards of Canada melts into Mastodon. Or Owl City grows some Orbs.

TALVIN SINGH

It’ll be tablatastic when the British legend, who laced drum and bass with acoustic Asian-flavored classical effects (and took Indian dance music out of the bhangra and into the digital) with seminal album OK in 1998, brings his live act to town. Yes, he’s calling his sound tablatronica, and, yes, he has invented an electronic instrument called the Tablatronic. The future is here again. Tabla!

Wed/21, 8 p.m., $25. Bimbo’s 365 Club, 1025 Columbus, SF. www.bimbos365club.com

SIGNAL PATH

Montana — known for its live electronic musicians? For the past decade and change, Missoula duo Signal Path have been representing with a bop-worthy blend of live instrumentation and “computer-generated production.” (Think all kinds of wired hijinks plus live drums and guitar.) The effect is surprisingly free of pretension, almost jam-bandish, but without all that twirling patchouli. They’ll be joined by energetic SF groovers MO2 — no relation to Montana.

Thu/22, 9 p.m., $10. Boom Boom Room, 1601 Fillmore, SF. www.boomboomblues.com

BLOODY BEETROOTS

One thing about the last decade’s electro-filter explosion — the music may not survive, but future anthropologists will forever be puzzled by the profusion of masked DJs. Italian duo Bloody Beetroots are among the few big names standing in terms of ear-splitting squelch and spangle (and their original Bizarro Spider Man masks are still de rigueur), perhaps by expanding their onslaught to include quiet moments of finely sculpted beauty — and a live drummer. Plus, they quote Baudelaire on the MySpace.

Thu/22, 9 p.m., $20. The Independent, 628 Divisadero, SF. www.theindependentsf.com

BONOBO

I’ve seen trip-hopper Bonobo several times in his DJ guise, and while he pushes all the right sonic buttons for a toke-tastic night of bass-heavy sway, it always seemed his mind was more on mental trips than dance-floor hips. On new album Black Sands, he’s added live horns, strings, vocals, and percussion that allow his more cerebral compositions to take on fuller force and rumble. He’ll hit Mezzanine with the whole works.

Fri/23, 9 p.m., $25. Mezzanine, 444 Jessie, SF. www.blasthaus.com

SATORI SOCIAL

Set on expanding his musical palette beyond mere laptopping, Hawaii’s ambient wizard Bluetech has gone live with his new band Satori Social, adding a vocals, flute, horns, and percussion to his mellow glitching. Can a Burner-heavy crowd vibe on a little jazzy soul and reggae-ish sunshine? Whatever the answer, the question-wrestling should be a joy to watch and hear. Contempo Brit dubber Ott and hometown acid-crunky an-ten-nae open up.

Fri/23, 10 p.m.- 4 a.m., $15. 103 Harriet, SF. www.1015.com

A+D

Oh dear and good goddess, they’re back. DJs Adrian and the Mysterious D are two of our finest exports, delivering genre-defying bootlegs and monster mashups to needy hordes from Budapest to Hong Kong. They’re back from roving the world on a giant tour to helm once again their little famous party, Bootie, here at home. Will they be bringing back any Finnish death rock to pervert?

Sat/24, 9 p.m., $12. DNA Lounge, 375 11th St., SF. www.bootiesf.com

PRINCE KLASSEN

More striking disco re-edits on the scene, this time coming from Austin, Texas — and, oddly, from a member of the Fully Fitted crew that includes ho-hum hipster-electroids Amanda Blank and Pase Rock. Don’t let that scare you away. If you’re into warm, red classics made warmer and redder and no neon posing, Prince Klassen (not to be confused with Prince Language, the NYC re-edit master) can provide. Disco love is a drug.

Sat/24, 9 p.m.- 3 a.m., $5. Deco Lounge, 510 Larkin, SF. www.decosf.com *

That po’ boy

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

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April 20, 2010

0

le.chicken.farmer@gmail.com

CHEAP EATS There is something pretty exquisite about being stood up by a date. When I find out what it is, I’ll be sure to let you know. Meanwhile, you’ll just have to take my word for it. Words.

The stander-upper was someone I’d bonked back before I accidentally fell in love with whatsername. We’d had a long coffee date that turned into a long walk in the park that turned into making out for a long time on a park bench, which of course turned into going to the grocery store to buy pork.

And a bottle of wine.

Now, I had a very strict policy back then of never having sex with someone on a first date. I have since added an amendment forbidding me to have more than one date with a person in a single day. Because somewhere between the pork and the wine we determined that since we’d driven separate cars from the grocery store to my house, this dinnery business was technically our second date.

So, yes, sex happened. Then, like a lot of guys who sleep with me once, he became obsessed with two seemingly contradictory thoughts: how to sleep with me again, and how to never ever, under any circumstances, sleep with me again. Thus he would e-mail me every other night: He had to see me immediately or else, as I read it, his hair would catch on fire and his penis would rocket away from his body, through the roof of his house, into outer space, and then back down into the atmosphere where of course it too would be consumed in flames and therefore ruined.

Not wanting that, I would cancel whatever plans were cluttering my calendar and we’d make a date — which he would cancel at the last minute because his mom had a tumor, or his car blew up, or his son or sister (or in many cases both) had been taken aboard an alien spacecraft and needed everyone’s prayers for a while.

I’m a trusting sort, and pretty patient, I think, but after 60 times I told this cat to get lost. Instead, he went into therapy. So I got lost. In Germans and Germany and so forth. Well, around the time things were busting apart for me there, I got another e-mail from him here saying he can’t stop thinking about me, he can’t believe he blew it with me, he’s gotten his shit together finally and wondered if I would give him another chance.

The man is tall. Very tall. So tall that I can wear four-inch heels and still only come up to his chin. For the first time in nine months, I wrote back. I said I was a broken woman, that I was coming home, and that eventually I would have coffee with him. That that was all we would have this time. No pork.

So we did, eventually, have our second first date — just coffee — and then, even more eventually, a very nice and only slightly less platonic dinner date, which ended with a soft, sweet kiss in his car.

It was our third (or in other words, fifth) date when he stood me up. And as I sat there waiting at my for-real favorite restaurant, Just For You, listening to live violin music, I decided that being stood up was pretty exquisite, maybe because it implies just dating, which implies uncertainty — and then when you finally give up and place your order, and the waitressperson as-discreetly-as-possible clears away that other place setting … then you do know. It’s decided, done, or over before it started, and sad, yes — but it’s a delicious sadness, because you still get to eat.

As I drenched my fried oyster po’boy in Crystal hot sauce, which somehow seemed even more romantic than violins, I decided that even if he was in the hospital having heart attacks, I would not give this tall man another “another chance.”

Three days later I finally heard from him. By e-mail. He’d been in the hospital, having heart attacks. Hopes I’ll still see him.

That same day eating with Last Straw’s childerns at Sunflower, Larkstraw, age 10, who aspires to be a writer, asked how long I’d been writing about restaurants, how much I get paid, do I ever write about the same place more than once, and if so, why?

“Any excuse I can find,” I said. Happy 20-Year Anniversary to:

JUST FOR YOU

Mon.–Fri. 7:30 a.m.– 9 p.m.; Sat.–Sun. 8 a.m. – 3 p.m.

732 22nd St., S.F.

(510) 647-3033

MC/V

Beer and wine

Cheating U.S. workers

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April 19, 2010

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The drive to strengthen workers’ rights is one of the most important ever undertaken by an American administration

Hundreds of thousands of workers are being cheated by U.S. employers who blatantly violate the laws that are supposed to guarantee workers decent wages, hours and working conditions.

That’s been going on for a long time, but rarely as extensively as it was during the administration of George W. Bush. Thankfully, Bush is gone. And thankfully, President Obama and his outstanding Secretary of Labor, Hilda Solis, have this month launched a major campaign to try to overcome the very serious damage of the past.

Even the name of the campaign itself is very un-Bush-like. “We Can Help,” it’s called. Bush, of course, never so much as offered help to badly exploited workers. But he did, of course, offer plenty of help to their law-breaking employers.

So, just what are Obama, Solis and their allies in the labor movement and elsewhere up to? They’re taking some very big steps to encourage workers to report employer violations of the wage and hour laws – especially low-wage workers, who are the most exploited. And they’re trying to respond as quickly as possible to the workers’ complaints.

Undocumented immigrants, who are perhaps the most exploited of all workers, are being encouraged to make complaints and are promised they won’t be punished for their illegal status. As the Labor Department explains, all workers deserve decent treatment, whatever their legal status.

Solis’ Labor Department has made the campaign a top priority. The department has already hired more than 250 new investigators, increasing the number by more than one-third. Even with a lesser number, the department recovered more than $170 million in back pay for more than 200,000 workers since Obama took office.

The key element of the campaign is to make sure that workers understand their rights under the laws and report any violations of those rights.

Certainly there’s no doubt that there are plenty of violations to report. For instance, a recent survey of workers in Los Angeles, New York and Chicago found thousands of rampant abuses of low-wage workers, many of them undocumented immigrants. They worked in stores, in factories and offices, at construction sites, in janitorial and food service jobs, in warehouses, in private homes and elsewhere.

More than one-fourth of the workers had been paid less than the legal minimum wage, often by more than $1 an hour less. That amounted to an average of more than $50 week in underpayments on wages that averaged not much more than $300 a week to begin with.

Many of the workers had been denied overtime pay or had their pay illegally docked for the cost of tools or transportation. Some were forced work without pay before and after their regular work shifts. Slavery is the word for that – being forced to work without pay.

Although the Labor Department is relying primarily on workers themselves to report on employers’ labor law violations, the department is also getting help from the AFL-CIO, its affiliated unions and other worker advocacy groups.

They are distributing posters, fact sheets and booklets spelling out the wage and hour laws and how to report violations, arranging meetings between workers and Labor Department staffers, holding forums at union halls, and other steps.

The department also has begun a publicity campaign in English and Spanish that includes TV ads featuring prominent Latinos, such as Dolores Huerta, co-founder of the United Farm Workers union, and prominent Puerto Rican actor Jimmy Smits.

Win or lose, the drive to greatly strengthen workers’ rights is one of the most important ever undertaken by an American administration. And I strongly suspect it will come in a winner.

Dick Meister, formerly labor editor of the SF Chronicle and KQED-TV Newsroom, has covered labor and politics for a half-century. Contact him through his website, www.dickmeister.com, which includes more than 250 of his recent columns.

Josh Wolf in the eye of the storm (again)

Sasha Cuttler And Mary Magee

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April 14, 2010

4

Josh Wolf in the eye of the storm (again)

Josh Wolf has landed in hot water again — this time in connection with his reporting from inside the student occupation at Wheeler Hall on the University of California Berkeley campus to protest budget cuts.

The blogger and videographer was jailed in 2006 after resisting a subpoena to testify before a Federal grand jury because he had taken footage at a 2005 San Francisco protest against the G8 summit. His case was widely reported on, in part because he set a record for jail time served — 226 days — for refusing to give up newsgathering materials. Police believed Wolf possessed footage that could be used to press charges for vandalism of a police car and an assault on an officer. He didn’t.

Now the 27-year-old filmmaker, a student at the Graduate School of Journalism at UC Berkeley, faces a possible seven-month suspension in the wake of a student occupation of Wheeler Hall last November 20. Wolf was one of two reporters whose footage from inside Wheeler Hall was included in a Democracy Now! broadcast about the occupation — but he was the only UC Berkeley student who has said he was there documenting the event as a member of the press.

Wolf says he wore a police-issued press badge around his neck during the Wheeler Hall occupation. Press passes can serve to flag journalists as being in a separate category from civilians in situations involving law enforcement, but displaying one does not always provide a reporter immunity from arrest. The video he shot was integrated into a report produced with independent journalist Brandon Jourdan, who was also inside the building. Wolf and Jourdan were both arrested — but their footage was widely viewed on Democracy Now!, a national alternative news outlet.

In an “informal resolution” issued April 9, UC Berkeley’s Center for Student Conduct found that Wolf “participated in a disturbance of the peace,” charging him with multiple violations of the student conduct code. Wolf’s role as a journalist is not discussed in the list of charges, making it seem as if he’s being lumped in with the student protesters, despite being there as a reporter.

But the fact that he wears another hat as a journalist clearly hasn’t escaped the campus enforcers of the student conduct code. As part of the disciplinary measure, Wolf was also directed to write a 10-page essay reflecting on a list of questions, including: “How do you consider and reconcile the roles of being a student and being a journalist? At what points does either role become more important to you and why? What are your limits as a journalist? Where and how do you draw lines for yourself in terms of things you will or will not do to pursue professional goals?”

Wolf is being given the option of writing the paper and taking the seven-month suspension (a plea bargain of sorts), or moving on to a formal adjudication process that would entail going before a five-member hearing panel, like a court trial. His plan is to try and get an extension for the informal resolution process as a means of getting the charges dropped altogether.

Berkeley Associate Dean of Students Christina Gonzales, whose office oversees the Center of Student Conduct, was unable to discuss Wolf’s particular case because of a federal law prohibiting public disclosure on such matters. Nonetheless, she offered some general comments. “In the big picture, whenever you’re dealing with conduct, you do take into consideration circumstances,” Gonzales said. “If some one reported, ‘I have special credentials’ or whatever, then [the Center for Student Conduct] will go back as part of their research on any of the cases and try to find out as much information they can to determine if that was a known fact, whatever it is that the student’s telling us.” She stressed that the informal resolution was only a first step in the disciplinary process, and that no formal decision has been made at this point in time.

“There’s always information that comes from others that’s taken into consideration with the whole picture,” Gonzales added.

Wolf says that when he asked Laura Bennett, Assistant Director at the Center for Student Conduct, whether it would impact the outcome of his case if he submitted a letter from Jourdan confirming that he was there as a reporter, he didn’t get a straightforward response. “Her response was, well, that kind of a letter would simply lead me to have more questions, such as, ‘how did you get into the building, who did what, what happened inside the building,’ a whole bunch of stuff that I’m not inclined to help with for any number of reasons,” Wolf said. “Some of this was given on a privileged basis. … And admittedly it’s like, wait, I went down this rabbit hole before, with the grand jury, and I’m not about to deviate from that path.”

Jourdan, who has contributed to the Huffington Post, Reuters, and the New York Times, among other outlets, told the Guardian that he wrote a letter supporting Wolf in this case. “To the best of his ability, he was there to capture a moment in history,” Jourdan said. Wolf is holding off on submitting the letter for now.

“I think what’s happening in the UC system is there’s a sort of crackdown,” added Jourdan, who faces his own charges after reporting on a March 4 demonstration against budget cuts to education that broke onto a West Oakland freeway. “When journalists are charged with criminal offenses … it’s impeding the work. The information is not free flowing. It’s imperative that journalists be given access to cover something … that in time will be seen as an historic movement.”

Pick up next week’s issue or visit us online for a more detailed report.

An MPC fiend at work

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

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April 13, 2010

0

arts@sfbg.com

MUSIC Few producers have pushed forward the aesthetic of West Coast underground hip-hop like Exile. His dynamic production style navigates a certain uneasiness at the heart of Californian reveries: warm pulses of boom-bap ride over blown-out bass lines and dirtied, jazz-strut melodies. Yet among the towering forces of Dr. Dre gangster pulp and Madlib beat tapes ad infinitum, Exile has been something of a submerged anonymity.

Exile (born Aleksander Manfredi) broke out into the Los Angeles scene at the brink of the millennium as part of the duo Emanon, formed in half by dexterous lyricist and singer Aloe Blacc. In reality, they had already been hustling an arsenal of cassettes since the mid-1990s, championing sun-bleached soundscapes and whimsical verses on the grind. It set the framework for Exile’s prodigious output during the last few years (holds breath): another decisive Emanon full-length, 2004’s The Waiting Room on Shaman Work; full production in the vein of Marley Marl for two freshmen rap debuts, Blu’s impassioned 2007 Below the Heavens on Sound in Color, and Fashawn’s solid 2009 Boy Meets World on One Records; a versatile 2006 beat conductor showcase, Dirty Science (also on Sound and Color); and the 2009 concept album Radio on Plug Research, which reworked a pastiche of sound bytes, vocals, and loops culled from Los Angeles’ AM/FM frequencies.

In any free time scrapped among those projects, Exile also helped spearhead a new form of live performance with the Akai MPC, a powerful drum machine and sampler tool henceforth used only for production. “The MPC is able to do almost anything any instrument can do if it’s programmed right,” Exile tells me over the phone. “Buttons allow you to trigger and manipulate sounds — and that’s exactly what music is.” No longer limited to mixing, scratching, and juggling prerecorded sounds on the turntables, the producer can build, layer, and freak music from its most basic building blocks. “The idea is to have your own instrument, made up of other instruments: a chopped up guitar, horn, bass line, and drums; then add some synth keys,” Exile says. “You have all these instruments at your fingertips and you can rework them.” Simply put, Exile brings a hip-hop producer’s analog studio to the stage.

Whether flipping robotic percussive breaks and lurching sub-bass that reach into your gut and pile-drive your sternum or reimagining Afrika Bambaataa with kindred spirit DJ Day, Exile continually impresses and body rocks the crowd in his live show. Sure, some talented laptop performers have incorporated similar techniques into their sets from behind glowing Apple computer screens, but it’s thrilling to see Exile openly at work in front of the audience. The visual aspect is key as he demonstrates unparalleled skills on the machine, tapping buttons in rapid-fire wizardry like a future-funked Thelonious Monk.

Exile invokes a natural musicality when playing the equipment. This makes his claims that the MPC is a real and serious instrument all the more convincing. “The first instrument I learned was an accordion, which has a lot of buttons,” he says, amused by the thought. “Then I picked up the keyboard and some drums. But I really learned to play the drums with the MPC.”

Exile was that kid in junior high finger-drumming syncopated rhythms on classroom desks and beat boxing in the hallways. Hooked on hip-hop and electronic jams, he was inspired to make programmed music with whatever tools he could find. “The first song I ever recreated was Tom Tom Club’s “Genius of Love” with a turntable and two-tape decks,” Exile recalls. “I recorded a two-bar section of a song, rewound so there were two bars of empty space, recorded two bars again, and then empty space again. Do that for three minutes, then go back and fill in the empty space, and add another tape onto that.” Repeat that DIY method until the sounds of a loving genius knock out of the speakers in full android glory.

This restless impulse to create took Exile down a long road experimenting with four-track recorders, Roland samplers, and even helium balloons before he laid his hands on the MPC. Now, he’s a certified fiend, transforming the way we see hip-hop as much as we hear it. And there’s much more to come.

EXILE

Fri/16, 9 p.m., $5–$10

Som SF

2925 16th St., SF

(415) 558-8521

www.som-bar.com

An inconvenient war

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

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April 13, 2010

4

By Christopher D. Cook

news@sfbg.com

For two weeks, in the marble-walled modernist grandeur of the Ninth Circuit U.S. District court in San Francisco, I watched nearly a dozen well-dressed lawyers for the Service Employees International Union — long my favorite union and one I’ve written about and marched with over the years — sue the bejeezus out of two-dozen former SEIU comrades-in-arms, some of labor’s most committed soldiers.

Judge William Alsup’s courtroom was packed and tense every day for two weeks, patrolled watchfully by U.S. marshals as former coworkers shot glares across the aisle and rushed by each other in the hallway outside. “This is like a bad family reunion,” one told me. Indeed, there’s a painful, often quite personal fight inside the family of labor — a fight one can only hope will lead to strong, deep democratic unionism down the road.

In the latest chapter of a saga that’s simmered to a boil over four years, SEIU sued 24 former staffers of its powerful 150,000-member Bay Area local, United Healthcare Workers West (UHW), alleging they used the union’s money and resources to create a rival organization. Since SEIU took over the old local in a bitter trusteeship fight in January 2009, the National Union of Healthcare Workers (NUHW), led by former UHW president Sal Rosselli, has been organizing workers in droves, challenging SEIU’s hold on health care workers in California.

In the end, following grueling testimonies and cross-examinations, it came to this: on April 9, the jury hit NUHW and 16 of its leaders with a $1.5 million penalty (which might be reduced to $737,850 depending on Alsup’s interpretation of the jury’s intent). It’s a lot of money, but far less than SEIU’s original claim seeking $25 million, and the appeals are likely to drag on into next year.

After dozens of interviews and whispered conversations in the hallways outside Alsup’s courtroom, I was left wondering: how could this be happening? At a time of historic lows in union membership (7.2 percent in the private sector last year) and a recession that may never end for workers, how could SEIU, once the darling of the progressive labor movement, be embroiled in a brutal war with one of its flagship former locals? How could these two unions be tearing each other apart, exchanging ugly accusations that threaten to further tarnish labor’s tenuous reputation? All at a time when California unemployment sits stubbornly at 12.5 percent and more than 90 percent of workers remain unorganized. Hospital executives who are accustomed to tangling with a unified labor front must be thanking their lucky stars.

But this isn’t some union corruption story or simply a scuffle for personal power. Beyond the name-calling lie crucial questions about how unions function, about whose voices are heard both in union offices and on the shop floor. How much voice will workers have in union decisions, not just about break rooms and arguments with the boss, but in the shape and direction of the labor movement?

Ultimately this fight won’t be decided by any jury or judge: despite the verdict, NUHW and its volunteer organizers are pressing on with SEIU for the right to represent California’s health care workers, 400,000 of whom currently pay dues to SEIU. Over the past year, more than 80,000 of those dues-payers have signed petitions to join NUHW, which has won seven of nine elections of health care workers called so far. With more big elections coming soon, most notably among 47,000 Kaiser Permanente workers this June, the stakes are only getting higher.

In a nutshell, the two sides argue thus: SEIU contends that Rosselli and company flouted the will of President Andy Stern, and ultimately its members, by refusing to abide by Stern’s decisions on a union consolidation. That led to a trusteeship of Rosselli’s local, with its leaders allegedly using SEIU resources to form their own union. Rosselli and NUHW insist they were boxed into an untenable corner by Stern’s centralization of power in Washington, D.C., at the expense of locals and workers and that they tried many times to resolve disputes internally, and only broke away to form a new union after they were forced out by Stern.

To convince a jury of its claims, SEIU amassed a formidable legal team drawing from four firms at a cost of roughly $5 million, according to SEIU spokesman Steve Trossman. (An expert witness hired by SEIU testified the union paid him roughly $300,000 just to prepare testimony for the case; defendants say the trial cost SEIU closer to $10 million.) Whatever the number, it’s an awful lot of time and money that could be spent organizing new workers and winning strong contracts instead.

Asked if he thinks the trial is worth the expense, Trossman said, “I think members of the union, when this is over, are going to get the truth of what happened — that they directly used union resources … to hold onto personal power.”

Dan Siegel, NUHW’s chief attorney, casts it differently: “This case is about punishing the defendants and sending a message” to other union dissidents across the country.

A LONG-TERM BATTLE

The rift that ended up in federal court has its roots in a 2006 move by Stern to consolidate California’s long-term health care workers, such as home care and nursing home employees, into a single statewide local — a move that would peel away 65,000 long-term care workers from Rosselli’s union.

The most likely beneficiary of the consolidation was the Los Angeles-based Long-Term Care Workers Union, local 6434, headed by Tyrone Freeman, who had been fending off corruption charges (allegedly stealing more than $1 million in union funds for personal gain) since 2002, according to the Los Angeles Times.

“Nowhere else but in California did SEIU attempt splitting long-term care and acute care workers into different unions,” said John Marshall, an SEIU strategic researcher who resigned in protest of UHW’s trusteeship, but who remains active in the labor movement. “But it’s worse than that — here SEIU proposed forcing long-term care workers into a local that was widely known to be corrupt, that had contracts with substandard wages and benefits. And on top of it all Stern and SEIU refused to allow those workers to vote on whether or not the transfer should occur.”

When Freeman’s alleged corruption became front-page news in the Times in 2008, and even after SEIU put the L.A. local in trusteeship later that year, Stern continued to push the consolidation. Rosselli resisted, arguing the shift would weaken workers’ voice and standards; wages for workers in Local 6434 were often far lower than those for their counterparts up north, and the mounting corruption charges didn’t bode well for union bargaining power or democracy.

SEIU’s Trossman insists union leaders were not aware of the Freeman allegations until they appeared in the L.A. Times, though one of those stories quotes an unnamed inside source saying Trossman knew of the charges as early as 2002. But Trossman said the issue was not Freeman. “The proposal was to create a new long-term care local in California, and by the time that decision was made in January 2009, Tyrone Freeman was already long out of the picture,” he told us, insisting the long-term care decision was made after hearings and an “advisory member vote.”

Yet 15 months after the takeover of UHW, the consolidation of long-term care workers remains on hold.

Friction between Stern and Rosselli — over the merger, leadership, and labor movement strategy — heated up throughout 2007 and 2008; Rosselli was unanimously booted off of Stern’s “kitchen cabinet” of labor leaders, and removed from his post as president of SEIU’s California State Council.

Then on Jan. 22, 2009, an SEIU-commissioned report by former Labor Secretary Ray Marshall recommended trusteeship — if Rosselli’s union didn’t abide by the transfer of its long-term care workers. A few days later Rosselli and the UHW executive board sent Stern a letter saying they would abide by the merger — if the UHW rank and file could vote on it first. No deal: on Jan. 27, UHW was put into trusteeship: its buildings were locked up, security guards patrolled the perimeters, and many of the deposed union staff camped out on the floors of their old offices.

On the afternoon of the 27th, Rosselli, who had been reelected UHW president earlier that month, spoke to cheering supporters: “[It’s] your right to determine what union you want to be in!”

NUHW members insist it’s never been about Rosselli or the other defendants. “We are not just a bunch of lemmings — we do what we believe,” said Tonya Britton, a Fremont convalescent home worker. “They couldn’t make it this far if there weren’t all of us members … When I heard about the trusteeship, I wanted a union that was for members, not top-down. We were making gains. Now it seems we’re doing nothing but fighting.”

Christopher D. Cook is a former Bay Guardian city editor. He has written on labor for Mother Jones, Harper’s, The Economist and others. This story was funded in part by spot.us.

Alerts

David Talbot

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April 13, 2010

0

alert@sfbg.com›

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 14

Organize against General Atomics

Attend this organizing meeting to learn how you can join the upcoming protest against General Atomics, scheduled for May 18–19 in San Diego, and take a stand against this manufacturer of defense drones that have caused the deaths of many innocent civilians in Afghanistan and Pakistan.

7 p.m., free

Global Exchange Office

2017 Mission, Suite 200, SF

codepinkalert.org

Rally Against Carbon Trading

Protest carbon trading and carbon offsets as false solutions to climate change outside the Navigating the American Carbon World conference attended by bankers, oil industry representatives, financial speculators, and big environmental groups.

Noon, free

San Francisco Marriott Marquis

55 Fourth St., SF

west.actforclimatejustice.org

THURSDAY, APRIL 15

Bike to School Day

Whatever kind of student you are, biking is an easy, healthy way to get to school. Encourage kids to take part in this city wide Bike to School Day with group ride locations throughout San Francisco.

All day, free

Throughout the city

Visit, sfbiketoschoolday.org for more information.

SATURDAY, APRIL 17

Berkeley Shore Cleanup

In preparation for Earth Day, help clean up the planet by taking part in one of the many cleanup activities being organized by Berkeley Earth Day and Shorebird Park Nature Center.

Various times and locations, free

(510) 654-6346

www.bayareaearthday.org

Building Bridges

Take part in this conference to build strategies and plans for successful protest, community organizing, civil disobedience, and direct action on LGBTQ, questioning, intersex, asexual, and related social justice issues. Help build solidarity, connections, and momentum.

10 a.m., free

Mission Cultural Center

2868 Mission, SF

(415) 821-1155

www.lgbtbridges.org

Counter Recruitment Training

Whether you’re a teacher, student, activist, parent, veteran, or family member, learn about the resources and materials on the realities of military service, aggressive military recruitment, and alternative options for youth.

9 a.m.; free, donations accepted

War Memorial Veteran’s Building

401 Van Ness, SF

(415) 565-0201, ext. 24

TUESDAY, APRIL 20

Building Materials You Wish You Never Used

Hear a presentation about commonly used building materials that are more hazardous than others and the risk that they pose to the environment and to personal health and safety. Dr. Arlene Blum and Tom Lent discuss the perils of these materials, like PVC vinyl and chemical flame retardants, and offer alternatives.

7 p.m., $10 donation

AIA San Francisco

130 Sutter, sixth floor, SF

(510) 845-1000

International Cannabis Smokers Day

Herb enthusiasts are invited to join fellow ganja smokers in defiant solidarity against the impracticality of enforcing current marijuana laws and to publicly show your support of the upcoming November 2010 statewide ballot initiative to legalize, control, and tax recreational use of marijuana.

4:20 p.m. sharp, free

Hippie Hill

Golden Gate Park, SF

cannabisculture.com

Mail items for Alerts to the Guardian Building, 135 Mississippi St., SF, CA 94107; fax to (415) 255-8762; or e-mail alert@sfbg.com. Please include a contact telephone number. Items must be received at least one week prior to the publication date.

Psychic Dream Astrology

David Talbot

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April 13, 2010

0

April14-20

Watch out! Mercury goes retrograde on the 18th!

ARIES

March 21-April 19

Make a list of all your worries, then make a second list of what you can actually do about them. Instead of trembling in your booties, get motivated to take practical steps toward improving matters.

TAURUS

April 20-May 20

This is a great time to start something new. With Mercury going retrograde in your sign this week, you’ll need to double-dip on fact checks and make sure you’re very detail-oriented about whatever you do.

GEMINI

May 21-June 21

You are overdoing it on something, Gem. Look at your behaviors to find the roots of what’s wrong in your world. It’s time to make major changes, but don’t try to change others. Focus on yourself.

CANCER

June 22-July 22

This is just one of those times when you have to talk things out, Cancer. Air your grievances in an honest, nonconfrontational way. Don’t let fear or diplomacy stop you from uncovering truth in your relationships.

LEO

July 23-Aug. 22

When you grow and change, then everything that stayed the same becomes different. Be willing to make your life as April 2010 as you can by upgrading the whole lot! Just make sure you are improving things along the way.

VIRGO

Aug. 23-Sept. 22

The best way to work on your intimate relationships is by starting with yourself, Virgo. Misery may love company, but being free of jealousies and able to hold your own with others is tops. Focus on the positive this week.

LIBRA

Sept. 23-Oct. 22

You can get on a soapbox and tell your story, but it’s Mercury retrograde and the people may misunderstand you, Libra. Just because you say it right doesn’t mean others are listening. Check in with your audience before you go off.

SCORPIO

Oct. 23-Nov. 21

This is a perfect time to take stock of all the good in your life and sink some loving energy into the people and things that feed you. Gratitude will fill you up better than a Krispy Kreme — and its free.

SAGITTARIUS

Nov. 22-Dec. 21

Feeling crappy is totally legit, but taking your sad feelings and turning them into bad vibes with others is not. Don’t pick fights because you’re overwhelmed. Wait till the feelings pass before you make any bold moves.

CAPRICORN

Dec. 22-Jan. 19

Worrying over how things will turn out is nothing new for you, Cap, so why does it feel so fresh each time it comes up? Focus on getting hands-on in the face of your anxieties, and you can nip them in the bud.

AQUARIUS

Jan. 20-Feb. 18

Being open and free is a wonderful thing — as long as that doesn’t lead you to acting without discretion, pal. Think before you proceed; otherwise, you’ll end up asking yourself why you did what you did this week.

PISCES

Feb. 19-March 20

Things may not be turning out quite as you hoped or expected, but life’s not all bad, Pisces. Look at whether you need to change your perspective — brooding will only create more troubles this week. *

Jessica Lanyadoo has been a psychic dreamer for 15 years. Check out her Web site at www.lovelanyadoo.com or contact her for an astrology or intuitive reading at (415)336-8354 or dreamyastrology@gmail.com.

Did Lennar hire an armed security guard from Andrews International?

Mary Magee

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April 13, 2010

11

Did Lennar hire an armed security guard from Andrews International?

I didn’t attend the April 12 hearing of the Board’s city operations and neighborhood services committee about Lennar’s decision to send an armed ex-SFPD officer to a Feb. 18 community meeting at the Nation of Islam’s mosque on Third Street.

But video footage shows that it was a packed house, during which plenty of folks stated loud and clear that they thought it was a really bad and potentially dangerous idea to send an armed ex-officer into a community meeting in the Bayview.

“What next? Concealed weapons at City Hall?” a member of the public asked.

At meeting’s end, Sups. John Avalos, Carmen Chu, Sean Elsbernd voted to refer a resolution urging Lennar Corporation to issue a formal, written apology to members of the Stop Lennar Action Movement (SLAM.) to the full Board without recommendation, after Elsbernd voiced concern that the ex-officer may have been threatened and had racial epithets hurled his way.

“If the gentleman was threatened, if racial language was used, in that case it should not be one- sided,” Elsbernd said. “There should be apologies on the other side as well.”

Meanwhile, it’s worth shining light on another question: Who was the ex-officer actually working for?

During the meeting, much was made of the fact that the ex-officer, who told police his name was Bob Tarantino though apparently that is not his real name, gave as his work contact an address in Miami, Florida, where PR agency Sitrick and Company, has an office.

(Lennar once sent a Sitrick employee to talk to me and my editors at the Guardian, after we published the first in a series of reports that showed that the company failed to adequately enforce promised asbestos dust mitigation plans at its Shipyard site.)

But Sitrick managing director Glenn Bunting, who oversees the company’s San Francisco, Silicon Valley and Miami offices, told the Guardian that the ex-officer in question has never worked for or been an employee of Sitrick.

“We know who is on our pay roll and we don’t provide security services,” Bunting said.

He confirmed that Sitrick recently opened an office in Miami and sublets space from another firm in the same building. “We have a very small presence in Miami,” Bunting said.

So, who could Tarantino work for who also has the same address in Miami, Florida, where Lennar Corporation is headquartered?

The building in question looks pretty big, lies across the street from the court house and is home to Andrews International, which is headquartered in Los Angeles, and bills itself as “a full service provider of security and risk mitigation services” and the “largest private, American-owned full-service security provider in the United States.”

In October 2009, Andrews International acquired Verasys LLC, a Miami-based consulting firm focused on global risk mitigation, investigations and security services.

“The acquisition added new offices in Miami, Tampa, Dallas, Atlanta and Bogotá, expanding service capabilities in all 50 states and Latin America” an Andrews International press release states.“ This followed the June 2009 acquisition of the U.S. and Mexico guarding operations of Garda World Security Corporation (TSX: GW), encompassing 14 offices across the U.S. and abroad. Most recently in January 2010, Andrews International acquired A&S Security, a California-based full service security company, expanding operations in its Western U.S. Region.”

So, it’s possible Bob Tarantino, or whatever his name is, works for these folks?
Lennar Urban’s Kofi Bonner has not replied to this question, as of this blog posting. But in a March 15 letter to Board President David Chiu and D. 10 supervisor Sophie Maxwell, Bonner said he was “working with our vendors to prevent such an episode from happening again.”

Bonner’s letter wasn’t entirely apologetic.

“Lennar has become increasingly concerned that some community meetings have devolved into hostility accompanied by intimidation of our supporters,” Bonner stated. “For that reason, I decided against sending any employees or consultants to the meeting in question.”

“I am truly disturbed by the ensuing physical and verbal abuse directed at the security firm employee,” Bonner continued. “Not surprisingly, he is independently considering his legal options.”

Powder room confessions with Sia

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

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April 13, 2010

0

I was expecting nothing but a stream of strange, awkward and amazing when I dialed up Australian singer Sia— playing Wed/14 at the Regency Ballroom– but her super quirky banter wouldn’t be the only sound traveling the wires. Ring ring and the blondie answered with a cheery “How are you sweetie?”, followed by, “How do you feel about me taking a leak while we chat?”

“Some people are really weird about it,” she continues. Talking to one of my most favorite musicians while they relieve themselves doesn’t happen very often– or ever. I was creepily excited to bond with ‘The’ Sia Furler in this fashion, as girls often do, gossiping and gabbing in the powder room. I tell her it’s cool and I don’t mind…but then click; we get disconnected before I can finish my sentence. I try calling her back, but it goes straight to voicemail. She was totally doing her business, sparing me the audio experience. My chance at a bathroom gab session flushed down the toilet.

To my relief, after three more tries Sia answers. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened,” I tell her, a bit frantic. “Oh, I know what happened– my phone is fucked.” We laugh and I explain that I hadn’t hung up on her due to grotesque request. “Becuase I had offended you so much with talk of wee wee,” she kids. From potty-talk to her music and love of Beyonce, no converstaion topic is awkward with Sia. Always brutally honest, a bit shocking, childish and delightfully funny, this woman has consistently been an open book throughout her career, offering up genuine bits of personal info to whoever inquires.

I saw her in Minneapolis a few years back when she was suffering a nasty case of what she called, “Uh-oh bum,” due to a pre-show Taco Bell dinner. Having no fear or shame, Sia told the crowd her unfortunate situation and even left the stage in a hurried fashion at one point to get things out and under control. Usually I’d be totally grossed out, but her rosy cheeks, bright bob, crooked smile and pink jeans made the sick situation kinda cute– a reminder of the human that’s behind her deep vocals.

A pop-singer with soul, Sia’s repertoire has been historically a bit more laid-back, ballads with catchy melodies and sing-along choruses. Her new album,We Are Born [Song Music] will be released June 7 with a dancier-attitude she’s hiding for years. Calling it a “departure from her old style,” Sia’s new tracks definitely throw a hint to her current lover, JD Samson from Le Tigre, and inspired a whole lot of movement with scratchy guitars, fast chimes, and vibrating bass.

Before picking up the phone to call Miss Sia, I spied her latest Tweet and learned of her plans to color her hair in between interviews. Sia, under a mop of any color besides blonde would be not be so sweet. I asked her to elaborate on her said plans.

SFBG: So what color is Sia going to become?

Sia: Well, four or five weeks ago I bought some Manic Panic and put it on in spots.

SFBG: Spots? Multi-colored?

Sia: Ya, like my fingernails. A little matchy-matchy with my nails. Purple, pink, blue, lavender, red. I painted it on my hiar and when I washed it out, I realized hair doesn’t really work in circles. Instead I had small squares and rectangles.

SFBG: That sounds odd…

Sia: My girlfriend thought it was funny. I thought it was beautiful. You know how a crystal reflects in the light- the beautiful rainbow? That’s what it looked like. People just thought there was a reflection on the side of my head.

SFBG: Are you going to try that again? Or something new?

Sia: I might do stripes. Then I’d have a total rainbow head. I’m waiting for my new 13-year-old stylist to tell me what to do on Twitter. She’s the fucking best dresser.

SFBG: Fashion advice from a teen fashionista, huh?

Sia: I met her a fashion show, during New York Fashion Week. I thought she was this amazing, cute granny. She had feet drawn on the top of her shoes. I only saw her from behind. She was just this beutiful, interestingly dressed little person with gray hair. I was transfixed by her. And then two weeks later, Perez Hilton said something mean about her. What the fuck dude? This kid is a clean version of Lady Gaga!

And a few more highlights from our conversation:

On Twitter: It’s a great place for the squirrels to bathe. I can have seven squirrels simultaneously conversing about whatever they’re thinking about.

On other people’s children: I met this lovely little boy, who began to stroke my face lovingly, with such adoration. And then, in his sweet little voice he says, “Hey you’ve got a little mustache.” Thanks. Thank you for pointing that out.

On her love life and kid-friendly future: Absolutely want kids. We (her and partner JD Samson) even have it narrowed down to four sperm donors. It’s great because I don’t really know if I’m straight or gay and my girlfriend doesn’t really know if she’s a boy or a girl– so it works out! So within the next 18 months or so, I’m going to get pregnant. I mean, I’m 34, and I don’t want my eggs to get old.

On possible names for her offspring: Humility. Wonder, like Stevie Wonder. And I really like Tada!– complete with exclamation point.

Sia

Wed/14, 8pm, $31-33

The Regency Ballroom

1290 Sutter, SF

www.theregencyballroom.com

Will Obama help Kamala Harris?

Zelda Bronstein

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April 12, 2010

12

President Obama is coming to California to help raise money for Sen. Barbara Boxer, who already has more than $8 million on hand. The president has to do this; Boxer’s seat is critical to the Democrats hopes for hanging on to a majority in the Senate,and Obama will pull out all the stops in this fall’s campaign to help Dems in tough races.

And while Boxer’s not going to get an easy pass, she’s still the front-runner — whatever the polls may show, she’s always been a great campaigner and has overcome tough odds plenty of times before. And unless Tom Campbell pulls it out in the GOP primary, she’s going to face either Carly Fiorina or Chuck DeVore, and both of them are too far to the right for California.

But there’s another key race this fall where Obama could also be a huge help. I think San Francisco D.A. Kamala Harris is going to win the Democratic primary for attorney general, but in the general election, she’s going to get hit hard by the GOP dirt machine. It’s going to be death penalty and cop killers all day long. Harris is tough, and knows what’s coming, but I can guarantee that race will be nasty, mean, dirty, ugly and as negative as you can imagine.

And Harris is going to need to raise a lot of money to fight back.

Now let’s remember: Harris was one of the first California elected officials to support Obama for president. She was the co-chair of his state campaign. And this fall, he could return the favor by making a visible endorsement — and by coming to town for a major Harris fundraiser. The president of the United States can raise $5 million in one night for a candidate — and that kind of boost, along with the positive press it would generate, might make the difference.

Of course, Obama, who (sadly) won’t come out against the death penalty, will have to take some hard questions and a few hits himself, in a tough national election year for Democrats, if he gets to close to Harris. And she’ s enough of a pragmatist that she’ll understand if he ducks this one.

But he really shouldn’t.

The Daily Blurgh: The true price of free food tattoos

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

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April 7, 2010

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The Daily Blurgh: The true price of free food tattoos

Curiosities, quirks, oddites, and items from around the Bay and beyond

A. E. Housman (who once deliciously referred to poetry as a “morbid secretion”) said, “Perfect understanding will sometimes almost extinguish pleasure. ” And as John McWhorter so ably demonstrates, Sarah Palin’s words — or at least the art of parsing them — can be extremely pleasurable:

“This reminds me of toddlers who speak from inside their own experience in a related way: they will come up to you and comment about something said by a neighbor you’ve never met, or recount to you the plot of an episode of a TV show they have no way of knowing you’ve ever heard of. Palin strings her words together as if she were doing it for herself — meanings float by, and she translates them into syntax in whatever way works, regardless of how other people making public statements do it.”

She’s no delicate petal-pusher. How pretty are the state’s highway medians at this time of year? Check the Desert Wildflower report for daily updates.

No it’s not clip art. That twilight landscape on your iPad desktop was actually shot by a local. (h/t to Boing Boing)

“A San Francisco eatery has convinced some customers to get tattoos in exchange for free food for life.” Hint: It’s not Michael Mina — but possibly a replay of the great burrito tattoo “disaster” of 1999.

This was supposed to be worth $5.8 million at the time. Like Gezundheit.com

An addendum to yesterday’s esteemed guest columnist: the New York Times’ Bay Area blog (the nerve!) ran a profile yesterday of Glendon Hyde, aka our favorite punk rock dragtavist, Anna Conda. She knows from first hand experience what gets lost – and more importantly, who gets displaced — when a gayborhood becomes just a neighborhood. Granted, Polk Street’s de-gayification has been happening for decades now (the pink flight to the Castro began around the mid-to-late 60s), and is just one part of the long, ongoing story of gentrification in the TL. Still, Anna/Glendon’s efforts to “Take back the Polk,” and now, her current campaign for the District 6 supervisor’s seat, should serve as rebukes to Katz’s patronizing mourning of communities that he was only superficially invested in.

Finally, in honor of Lady Day would have been 95 today I’ll leave you with this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h4ZyuULy9zs

Keep the faith

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

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April 6, 2010

0

arts@sfbg.com

MUSIC My original topic for this article was how indie-rock artists exploit modern R&B and soul music for their nefarious gains. I planned to center my rage at Village Voice “Pazz & Jop” doofuses who ignore future soul overachievers like Sa-Ra Creative Partners; random idiots who bop around to the likes of Trey Songz and T-Pain in ironic, condescending fashion; rock-crit gatekeepers like Pitchfork’s Scott Plagenhoef, who claimed on ilovemusic.com that “I think your best bet is to turn music crit readers into R&B fans, not R&B fans into music crit readers,” as if R&B fans (re: black people?) aren’t smart enough to develop critical philosophy; recidivists who shill for mercury-laden masterpieces like Iggy Pop’s Funhouse and Weezer’s Pinkerton while shunning slickly produced wonders like Aretha Franklin’s Sparkle and Mary J. Blige’s My Life; and any dumbass who wails about how great Motown and Stax 45s are but stubbornly blocks them from the all-important Great Rock Albums canon, arguing that soul artists make classic singles, but not classic albums (in other words, sit in the back of the bus).

The turning point for my paranoid hipster conspiracy would be Little Dragon, who will conveniently return to San Francisco on April 14 for a gig at the Independent. Hailing from Sweden, Little Dragon fuses neo-soul and R&B with the whimsicality of electronic pop. So, for several minutes, I asked lead singer Yukimi Nagano to pick apart Little Dragon’s sound. It seemed silly in retrospect, and not just because Little Dragon already does that on its Web site. Nagano exudes a cool serenity that tames you like Pixar movies temper sugar-addled children and grownups. Focusing on her influences feels like analyzing the computers Pixar uses — worthwhile from a factual standpoint, but ultimately missing the point.

“My favorites were Faith Evans and Brandy, then also a lot of classics like Prince. I love Erykah Badu and a bunch of different stuff,” Nagano said. She and her bandmates — Erik Bodin, Frederik Wallin, and Hakan Wirenstrand — write songs in the classic pop format, blending in “electronic sounds and electronic music because you can experiment so much with it. We have so many different influences, everything from South African house music to soul, R&B, hip-hop and whatever. All the guys produce, and everyone has their own character in writing, so that also gives our albums a lift. It’s not just one person making everything.” Nagano’s character, so to speak, “is that I try to be free in my writing. And people can hear the soul influences in my vocals, I guess.”

Little Dragon’s 2007 self-titled debut was full of slow-burning ballads that owed as much to modern R&B, with its singers’ penchant for subdued melisma and jazzy inflections, as to the synthesized blue tones of 1980s New Wave. “No love left in here/No love in this room/No love in my soul left for you,” she sang on “No Love,” her dourness seeping through the downbeat track. A poetic writer, she used her bandmates’ atmospheric melancholia to coin strangely elliptical lines: “Walking down the stairs, anonymous detached, on the corner I turn, I turn, I turn left.” Not surprisingly, there is homage of sorts to Billie Holiday in “Stormy Weather,” although the lyrics concern something else.

Last year’s Machine Dreams also had lollygaggers wandering aimlessly about, but the music was fuller and more vibrant. Instead of ballads with sad little keyboard riffs, there were panoplies of sounds, from the percussion titters of “A New” to the dense yet airy washes of “Fortune.” Much of the album is kookily uptempo, with clockwork rhythms reminiscent of Howard Jones and Thomas Dolby (in a good way). “Playing live [during the tour for the first album] made us want to pick up the tempo,” Nagano said. “We really love playing dance music. There’s nothing as great as seeing people dancing.”

As Little Dragon pushes in a new direction, the R&B sounds that once inspired them drift into the past. The band is listening to different stuff now, like Depeche Mode, DJ Cleo, and Gui Buratto. “Obviously the first album was written a long time ago, and it’s been a few years. Those songs were written even before 2007. They were already old for us then. Time has passed and you change.”

Machine Dreams is a qualitative leap from the debut album, which Nagano dismisses as “demos” that the group’s label, Peacefrog Records, released without their permission. (She was pleasantly surprised when audiences responded so well to it.) And if Little Dragon is better equipped to harness its current Kraftwerk obsession than the R&B passions of the past, then so be it. Regardless, the results don’t sound like anything else.

“I love music so much, and the guys do as well,” Nagano said. “You know how you get that kick from something you haven’t heard, and get inspired? It’s a great kick to have in your life. We want to find that as often as we can.” That seems painfully obvious to me. *

LITTLE DRAGON

With VV Brown, HOTTUB

Tues/13–Wed/14, 9 p.m., $20 ($30 for two days)

Independent

628 Divisadero, SF

(415) 771-1421

www.theindependentsf.com

Way out Middle East

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

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April 6, 2010

0

arts@sfbg.com

FILM One frontier in which Israel remains politically left-forward is that of gay rights. Civil marriage, military service, foreign-partner naturalization, and job discrimination issues are all much more progressively legislated than in the U.S. — let alone the rest of the Middle East, where flogging, prison, or even execution punish homosexual "crimes." Nonetheless, as in much of the world today, fundamentalist religious currents endanger progress already made and still being worked toward.

Three out of five films in the "Out in Israel" series at the Roxie deal with strife between gay and Orthodox religious communities. Copresented by San Francisco’s Jewish Film Festival, they’re all part of a larger lineup of April events assembled by the Israeli Consulate in honor of Israel’s Gay Pride Month.

The oldest feature here is from 1992, though it feels like 1972 — Amos Guttman’s 16mm-shot Amazing Grace has the technical simplicity and variably professional acting of early gay-themed movies from just about any nation, whatever their era. And like most such, it’s a downer in which everyone is depressed, isolated, and broke. Young Jonathan (Gal Hoyberger) is fed up, especially with his quarrelsome family and slutty ex-boyfriend, when he meets handsome new neighbor Thomas (Sharon Alexander). Unfortunately the New York City-returned older musician is more interested in using drugs than love to drown his HIV-positive self-pity.

Israel’s gay cinema pioneer, Guttman died of AIDS the following year at age 38 without achieving anything like the popular success that greeted Eytan Fox a decade later. Fox’s 2002 international breakthrough Yossi and Jagger, originally made for local TV, stars Ohad Knoller and Yehuda Levi as IDF officers stationed in a mountain bunker on the Lebanon border. They’re carrying on a giddy affair almost no one knows about till tragedy intervenes. But Avner Bernheimer’s astute screenplay is still only half done: the rest of Fox’s finest effort to date finds closeted grief exacerbated by psychological theft and stinging injustice.

Moving from secular to religious conflict, the remaining "Out in Israel" features focus on clashes with those who view homosexuality’s mere existence as an affront to God. Nitzan Giladi’s documentary Jerusalem Is Proud to Present (2007) opens with Jewish, Muslim, and Christian clerics — united at last — condemning the city’s planned hosting of the 2006 International World Pride Parade as "nothing less than the attempted spiritual rape of this holy city." Violent rioting by Orthodox sects, death threats to gay leaders, and more attempts to shut down the event before it happens, succeeding somewhat yet also prompting righteous obstinacy from the LGBT community. One can laugh queasily at the grandmotherly type who claims HIV infection will jump 300 percent because those gays "just grab people" for their "orgies." But you’ll want to sucker-punch the loudmouthed Brooklyn rabbi who flies in just to spew his smirking homophobia.

Two recent features illustrate the impasse between homosexuality and ultra-Orthodox values in intimate dramatic terms. Haim Tabakman’s debut feature, 2009’s Eyes Wide Open (the only series program with a ticket charge; all others are free), watches trouble brew when a kosher butcher (Zohar Shtrauss) grows dangerously fond of the alluring new assistant Ezri (Ran Danker), whose reputation as a "curse to righteous men" precedes him. While borderline mannered in its minimalist dialogue and direction, the film packs a potent
punch.

Contrastingly not at all interested in restraint is Avi Nesher’s The Secrets (2007), about two girls (Ania Bukstein, Michal Shtamler) discovering Sapphic love at a women’s seminary. They also embark on a secret program of ritual cleansings for a prison-released French murderess (Fanny Ardant, atypically hammy) dying of both cancer and heart disease. It’s too bad the series’ sole lesbian feature is so melodramatically over the top. Then again, it’s probably pretty tasteful by the standards of a director previously associated with schlock like 2000’s Raw Nerve (Mario Van Peebles meets Nicollette Sheridan!) and 2001’s Tales from the Crypt Presents: Voodoo.

OUT IN ISRAEL

April 8–29, free–$8

Roxie

3117 16th St, SF

Whatever it takes

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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April 6, 2010
0

culture@sfbg.com

CAREERS AND ED It’s not everyone’s idea of a good time to be choked from behind and thrown into a wall repeatedly, although this is San Francisco. But this is no kinkster playground; rather, it’s an unprepossessing mirrored studio on the Nob end of the Tenderloin where a diverse group encompassing just about every age, gender, and athletic quotient gathers to learn the hand-to-hand combat and self-defense techniques of Krav Maga. Krav is martial without the art: crude but effective street-fighting techniques and counter-weight defenses honed into body memory through repetition, use of full force, and peer coaching. Unlike more rigidly codified martial arts systems, which put an emphasis on form and fair play, Krav puts an emphasis on “whatever it takes.” Whatever it takes to get home alive.

And the tradition of Krav Maga — “contact combat” in Hebrew — takes that mantra very seriously. Developed in the 1930s by Slovakian boxer Imi Lichtenfeld to help Jews defend themselves from anti-Semitic attacks, the “Israeli jujitsu” technique was honed by the Israeli Defense Forces for military purposes. Krav Maga San Francisco, founded in 1999 and owned by brown belt Barny Foland, offers 70 classes, and prepares you for any untoward situations.

A relative newcomer, I attend level one classes at Krav Maga San Francisco once or twice a week, schedule permitting. This week we’re learning to break free from a choke from behind, followed by a push. The first thing we learn when being thrown into a wall from behind is how to protect the face, blocking the impact with our forearms and turning our heads to the side. “That part’s pretty important,” our instructor quips. “You can’t see them now, because we painted over them, but there used to be blood spots on the wall where people bashed their noses.” Good to know.

The next step is breaking the choke, and though the movement itself is not complicated, training it to feel intuitive takes longer. Basically, the chokee shoots an arm straight into the air and quick turns, breaking the hold through leverage. Of equal importance to the choke-break is the follow-though, defensive moves morphing into offense: hammer strikes, groin kicks, a few rapid-fire punches to the soft tissues. Without pads, we mime the strikes, which earlier we practiced at full force on unwieldy foam “shields”. The choking is real enough, though, as is the body-slam, and two days later, a tender spot the size of a thumb rests below my jawline, and bruises on my elbows attest to how I finally learned to not block with them.

The hardwiring process and use of full-force is what inspired me to take Krav in the first place. I had already taken an IMPACT (www.impactbayarea.org) self-defense seminar, which taught me how to take a fall and fight hard from the ground. But Krav aims to keep students on their feet. I find the benefit to training face-to-face against my peers (instead of a “padded suit”) is two-fold. Firstly I learn to strike with force against a person whose face I can see, and secondly, I learn to absorb their blows, a crucial key to surviving a real-life attack. Taking the time to help each class member master every skill genuinely is a top priority at Krav Maga SF. I’ve attended aerobics classes that were more competitive.

Foland assures me it’s the norm. “Anybody who wants to come in and train for competition, we send them down the street to the local kickboxing gym. You can be in a level one class and have level four students in there with you, and the only reason you would know it is because they’re really good, and they’re trying to help you learn. You show your skill by how much you help your partner.”

Of course, folks looking for a more graceful, philosophy-based martial art might ultimately decide that Krav Maga is just too rough around the edges. I think of the earnest man who attended an intro session about a month ago. He’d been blocking well all night, but balked when our instructor urged us to aim our punches for the throat, in order to cause “the most amount of damage in the quickest amount of time.”

“But couldn’t you damage someone permanently if you hit them in the Adam’s apple,” the man asked, concerned.

“I didn’t start the fight, remember,” our instructor said firmly. “But I’m going to finish it.”

KRAV MAGA SAN FRANCISCO

1455 Bush, SF

(415) 921-0612

www.kravmaga-sf.com

Inside the squat

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
-

April 6, 2010
1

By Evan DuCharme

news@sfbg.com

Homes Not Jails (HNJ) has fought diligently for two decades to shed light on the economic disparity that exists in San Francisco, where the number of homeless people would fit almost perfectly into the supply of vacant homes.

So on a cold Saturday night, April 3, as I sit shivering in the back of a van waiting for my group’s turn to covertly enter a vacant house, I’m surprised at the calmness on some of the members’ faces. This group of eight is planning to enter and occupy apartments at 572 and 572A San Jose Avenue. And while only a few have been through this before, the rest make up for their lack of experience with a passion for the cause.

Around 2 a.m., the group somehow manages to enter the building without being caught, but it’s not easy. Between the drunken couple arguing on the street, the cops breaking up a bar fight nearby, and a neighboring couple who keep shining flashlights at the units, the group should never have made it in. But it does, and at the moment there’s no time to dwell on luck because there’s food and water to unpack, entrances to secure, and rooms to search, all while remaining perfectly silent and unseen.

Typically HNJ, a project of the San Francisco Tenants Union, conducts weekly searches it calls “urban exploring” in the hopes of finding useable vacant property to set up as a “squat” for people looking for a place to live rent-free. Every so often, its activism goes mainstream in the form of public occupations like this one, when the media is notified.

The immediate goal is to simply enter, secure, and occupy the apartment until noon the next day when a rally starting at 24th and Mission streets will march right in front of the building. Once there, they are supposed to let fly a couple HNJ banners while the rally outside features speeches, chants, and music by the Brass Liberation Orchestra.

But the catch is that the squatters cannot be seen before the rally arrives outside, otherwise their cover will be blown, they could be arrested, and the goal of shedding light on this waste of vacant housing will be ruined.

After attending HNJ meetings and events for a few weeks, I was allowed to follow the group into the apartment and report on their occupation from the inside as long as I protected the anonymity of those who wanted it. With that in mind, the group included Tim, one of the most experienced HNJ members; SFSU grad-student Aaron Buchbinder; Elihu Hernandez, a candidate for the District 6 seat on the Board of Supervisors; Matt, another experienced HNJ member; and local activists Carling, Scott, and a seventh member who asked to remain anonymous.

The building they targeted had strong symbolic value; it was where an elderly man was forced out by the landlord using the Ellis Act, which for the past decade has been the root cause of a large number of what the group sees as unjust and immoral evictions.

The Ellis Act was adopted in 1985 to give landlords the right to clear their rent-controlled buildings of tenants and get out of the rental business, expanding their previous rights to evict tenants through Owner Move-In (OMI) evictions, which allowed landlords and their immediate family members to oust renters.

Once a landlord invokes the Ellis Act, tenants in the building are given 120 days to move out, although seniors and those with disabilities must be given a year’s notice. Tenants are entitled to almost $5,000 each in relocation costs, or a maximum of almost $15,000 per unit. Seniors and those with disabilities get an extra $3,300 each.

After the building is vacated, it is usually taken off of the rental market for at least five years. During that time, the former tenants retain the right to reoccupy their old units at their original rent for 10 years. If the building is re-rented within five years, the landlord can only charge what the previous tenants were paying. These restrictions are attached to the deed and apply to subsequent property owners as well.

Although the restrictions were meant to discourage the eviction of tenants from rent-controlled units, they also have encouraged some property owners to keep buildings vacant while they wait for property values to increase or to re-rent their units at higher prices. If the landlord wants to convert, remodel, or add any additions to the property, they still must seek the city’s approval.

This landlord power is the primary reason HNJ chose to occupy 572 and 572A San Jose Avenue. A few years ago, the property was purchased by Ara Tehlirian, who sought to remodel it and live there himself, evicting 82-year-old Jose Morales in the process. Morales had been legally renting the property since 1965 and challenged his eviction in court.

Morales won when the judge ruled that it was illegal to evict him for the sole purpose of renovating the building for the new landlord. But Morales’ success was short-lived. Tehlirian invoked the Ellis Act, so Morales was no longer legally able to live in his home. When Tehlirian subsequently asked for permission to renovate his house as he had initially planned, the judge denied the request citing that landlords cannot invoke the Ellis Act for an OMI eviction.

One reason the Ellis Act is used so frequently traces back to the passage of Proposition G in 1998, which prevented the type of eviction initially tried on Morales. Prop. G requires landlords invoking an OMI eviction to move into the evicted tenant’s unit within three months of the eviction and to stay for a minimum of three years.

Furthermore, it limited such evictions to one person per building and banned them if a comparable unit was open in the building. Finally, and the reason cited in Morale’s case, it made permanent an existing law that was set to expire in June of that year that prohibited any OMI eviction of senior, disabled, or catastrophically ill tenants.

Tehlirian, like many others before him, decided to use the Ellis Act to bypass these OMI restrictions. Ted Gullicksen, director of the Tenants Union, said Prop. G had the unintended effect of encouraging property owners to clear their buildings of tenants, a requirement of Ellis Act.

“A vacant building is generally worth 20 to 30 percent more than a building occupied with tenants because the landlord can do whatever he wants with the units, including selling them or renting at market rate,” he told us.

So Morales was forced out of what remains a vacant building. This is why HNJ illegally occupied the property, arguing that trying to effect change through legal avenues is at times just as difficult as Morales’ individual struggle against the Ellis Act. It highlighted the human cost of property rights.

“People who keep vacant buildings for profit tend to be the same ones who donate money to political campaigns,” Tim said. Which is why he is resorting to a form of civil disobedience that is very likely to end with him in handcuffs.

Around 1 p.m. Sunday, April 4, the rally met in front of the property and the occupiers frantically rushed to hang banners and secure any entrance the San Francisco police might find. As the first drops of rain fell, the Brass Liberation Orchestra played, speakers including Gullicksen and Morales said a few words, and the Food Not Bombs organization supplied free food to occupiers and members of the rally.

After a few hours, the rally dispersed with much appreciation from those inside the apartment and what started as a group of seven SFPD squad cars dwindled to two. Tim, Elihu, Scott, Aaron, and Matt decided to remain in the building while the rest of us said goodbye and climbed out an open window.

The remaining members spent their second night in the building, but this time they didn’t have to be quiet. Supporters brought the group pizzas and a neighbor offered to supply water to the group as long as they didn’t mind if it came from her tap. They huddled in the same room playing cards and joking until Tehlirian and the SFPD made it through the front door, ending the occupation.

Each member was cited and released on the premises at 1:35 p.m. April 5 under penal code 602m for trespassing. Tehlirian stood by and observed while his lawyer, Zach Andrews, unsuccessfully pressed him to charge the group with breaking and entering. When the group dispersed, Tehlirian and a few members of the SFPD broke through a second door to gain access to the bottom level of the property.

When Tehlirian came out for a break, I tried to speak with him but he refused to answer my questions. Shortly afterward, I met up with the HNJ group at the Tenants Union and asked Tim if he thought they were successful in accomplishing their goals. “Not completely,” he said. “But we made the most with what we had.”

Tenants may not have the law on their side in many cases, but in a city that is two-thirds renters, they have each other. And for a few days, they had one more home. The group’s feelings seemed to be summed up by this quote on a HNJ pamphlet: “We are too valuable to live huddled in the rain, in the parks, in dangerous unhealthy shelters. Freezing, dying so that others can realize profits.”

Where’s teacher?

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
-

April 6, 2010
4

By Brady Welch

news@sfbg.com

Horace Mann Middle School principal Mark Sanchez sounded exhausted when we reached him on March 26. It wasn’t because Horace Mann is such a tough school, although the Mission District campus does have a disproportionate number of at-risk students. And it wasn’t because it was the Friday before spring break, although that might have had something to do with it.

All week Sanchez had been reeling from news that a whopping 10 out of his 20 full-time teachers had been issued pink slips by the San Francisco Unified School District. Including counselors, a vice principal, and other staff, the budget cuts essentially lopped off 24.6 percent of the school’s workforce, an unprecedented blow that speaks volumes about the state of California public education.

“A lot of the kids were wondering if the school was getting shut down,” Sanchez said. And although Horace Mann isn’t closing, with so many axed teachers, it might seem like a new school to many students come August. “If a significant number [of teachers] are moved, we don’t know what we’re in for.”

There is a legend that you will meet the person who will seal your fate long before the final event happens. And in an interesting turn of events, it was Sanchez who, as president of the Board of Education in 2007, hired current SFUSD Superintendent Carlos Garcia. Attempting to close a staggering $113 million budget gap over the next two years, it fell to Garcia on Feb. 23 to send out 645 layoff notices across the district in a list that included 163 administrators, 239 elementary school teachers, 124 high school teachers, and 104 middles school positions. Horace Mann was hit particularly hard because so many of its staff lacked seniority. Final decisions on layoffs will be made next month by the school board.

The first indications of this massive fiscal blood-letting came Jan. 20, when Garcia sent a letter to the entire district on learning of Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger’s budget. The document was a glaring reminder of how bad things had gotten in Sacramento, and the superintendent wrote candidly of what he saw and what it meant for the district. “These numbers are large, and they will be devastating.”

Aside from the extraordinary blow to personnel, the proposed SFUSD budget will increase class sizes, freeze salaries, cancel summer school except for those who need credits to graduate, and reduce the number of days of classroom instruction to 175 annually, putting the district in conflict with a state law mandating at least 180 days. Given its deep cuts, Sacramento probably won’t enforce the statute.

“The state itself is in such a budget crisis,” Sanchez told us. “And [it’s] refusing to raise taxes. The fix has to be at the state level.”

But that’s been difficult since the passage of Proposition 13, the 1978 measure that limits property tax increases and gives control of whatever revenue is generated directly to the state. Because all state budgets must pass the Legislature with a two-thirds super-majority vote, a disciplined minority of virulently antitax Republicans block budgets that adequately fund education nearly every time.

Yet now, the bill for that political stalemate is coming due at schools like Horace Mann.

Beyond the numbers and politics, the Guardian wanted to get a closer look at how this regular cycle of cuts and layoffs is affecting teachers and students, so we spoke to a couple of eighth grade English teachers at Horace Mann who described it as dismal.

“I try to put it at the back of my mind, to be honest,” said Matt Borowsk, one of the 10 teachers at Horace Mann who received a pink slip. Borowsk reiterated a common sentiment that all teachers — potentially laid off or not — just want to do their jobs and focus on their classes. “I want to be able to stay and do my work and make improvements. And I want to do what I can for the school community and work with students,” he said. “I’m still in it, and I’m in it for the long run, despite what issues the district has about keeping their teachers.”

Gail Eigl, a teacher at Horace Mann for eight years who is tenured and therefore not at risk of a layoff, concurred. “No one I know who got a pink slip has changed their attitude. People are trying to stay focused on the present and teach.”

It’s an admirable response, and one Eigl understands well. She was laid off after her first year there in 2001. “Six of us got pink slips,” she recalled. “It was terrible.” She went looking for a job in South San Francisco, but in a strange turn of events, SFUSD called and offered her a job at Argonne Elementary in the Richmond District. A year later, she was back where she started at Horace Mann, and until now, she hadn’t really looked back.

“It’s like the school keeps having problems,” she said, an opinion that also hints at SFUSD’s skewed notion of teaching as a stable career path.

Borowski offers a similar story. This year’s pink slip is his second. Last year he received one after teaching only a year in Burlingame, which is how he ended up in San Francisco. Such rampant doling out of pink slips has nothing to do with Borowski’s performance. Rather, it has everything to do with seniority. And because the state is in such a crunch, it’s hard to stay in any school long enough before the budget’s grim reaper comes to collect.

“People who are able to stick through the first five years, they genuinely want to be a good teacher, make seniority, and not have to worry about it,” he said. And “because Horace Mann is a school where new teachers go, because it’s a tough school, then they’re the most vulnerable to layoffs. Which starts this vicious cycle.”

It’s classic Catch-22. Facing such a budget shortfall, how does SFUSD keep teachers who have little or no seniority teaching in the very schools whose litany of needs put those teachers there in the first place? In many ways, these are the most committed and passionate teachers the district has, and they represent for their classes a level of discipline and stability absent in many of their students’ home lives.

Many of Eigl’s students are low-income, speak English as a second language, or both. Some of their parents are deceased, others are undocumented immigrants, and a few are in jail.

“I honor tenure,” she told us. “I know there’s a reason for it. But right now, it doesn’t seem to be working for us.” Eigl brings up the case of a new parent liaison the school received this year, a critically important position that takes time building solid relationships with students’ families. “She got a pink slip too,” Eigl told us, the exasperation evident in her voice.

“I think people are really defeated inside. It’s so frustrating,” she continued. When asked what she meant by that, Eigl became heated. “It’s California! We’re supposed to be the richest economy. We should have money for schools. Why are other states doing so much more? We’re at the bottom. Where’s the money?” She suggested that Horace Mann should be granted special status because of its high-needs student body.

“It’s almost predictable that students who have a lot of unpredictability in their lives will suffer for this,” Sanchez told us. “It will be destabilizing for them. Teachers will get disrupted as well. A lot of what you do in schools has so much to do with outside the classroom, and it takes a lot of time to get acclimated.” At a tough school like Horace Mann, he says, “there’s been a lot of professional development and new programs.”

Borowski stresses the sentiment forcefully. “It’ll be devastating if the pink slips go through. It’ll be a huge mess.”

Both teachers participated in the massive statewide protests against the cuts on March 4. But other than letting Sacramento know how public educators feel, nothing concrete has come out of it. Sanchez suggested that it might be possible to sue the state for violating its statute on the minimum number of school days. Even SFUSD, at the last Board of Education meeting on March 23, didn’t rule out the possibility of suing the state for lack of adequate funding.

Negotiations are ongoing between the district and the United Educators of San Francisco teachers union about final layoffs. Those will be finalized May 15. Meanwhile, teachers at Horace Mann and across the district will continue to do their jobs despite how grim the outlook may be. As Eigl puts it, “It’s like out of a book from a bad future.”

Editorial: Avoiding a taxicab meltdown

David Talbot
-

April 6, 2010
0

300 medallion holders who are now more than 70 years old will be allowed to sell their permits and pocket the money

The pilot program to privatize taxicab permits is a done deal. It’s a mistake, and its going to cause serious problems, but at this point, short of a new charter amendment, there’s not a lot anyone can do about it. Under the 2007 measure Proposition A, the Municipal Transportation Agency has the authority to revamp the rules for how cabs are regulated, and the MTA board, appointed by Mayor Gavin Newsom, has approved the privatization plan.

But the implementation rules can still be written to prevent some of the worst possible results.

Under the proposal, as many as 300 medallion holders who are now more than 70 years old will be allowed to sell their permits and pocket the money. The city will get 15 percent of the sale price. The idea is to encourage older drivers to retire. Since medallion holders must by law be active drivers – and the medallions are issued to drivers until they retire or die and the medallions are highly lucrative – the city’s taxi fleet includes a significant number of people who should no longer be behind the wheel.

But since 1978, the medallions have been issued to drivers for only a token fee – so in essence, the city just handed the older drivers a massive windfall. The permits – public property – are expected to sell for around $200,000, with holders pocketing 85 percent of that cash.

Newsom had much more ambitious plans – he initially wanted to put all the permits on the market and raise as much money for the city as possible. To her credit, Christine Hayashi, MTA’s taxi director, has held her ground and stuck to a plan she thinks will slowly address the problems in the current system (too many older drivers, too long a waiting list for permits).

But if this is going to be anything other than an utter disaster for cab drivers and the city, Hayashi needs to make sure that the permits don’t become speculative commodities – and that cab companies don’t use the new rules as a way to turn medallion buyers into indentured servants.

The rules still require that medallions be held by (and thus sold to) working drivers. But let’s face it: not many drivers have $200,000 cash on hand, so the system’s only going to work if the city can line up financing. Hayashi says she has several banks interested in making medallion loans (in fact, the banks will be the big winners here – medallions don’t depreciate and almost certainly won’t lose value over time). But the drivers will have to come up with a downpayment, probably 10 percent – and a lot of prospective buyers won’t have that much cash, either. One likely outcome: Cab companies will offer to front the downpayment for drivers who agree to associate their medallions with that company. Hayashi needs to press and enforce a rule that bans any cab company from lending money for permits. If this is going to benefit the average driver, the city ought to mandate low downpayments from participating banks or work with nonprofit microlenders to make those loans. (In fact, the city ought to be reaching out to the nonprofit finance community for advice on how to implement the entire program.)

MTA also needs to set a firm, reasonable cap on prices – at a level that a working driver earning the income possible at today’s fares can afford. Medallions can’t be allowed to sell at whatever the market will bear – or speculators and unscrupulous companies will be working all sorts of scams to cash in, the drivers will never have a chance, and the whole system will collapse.

Avoiding a taxicab meltdown

David Talbot
-

April 6, 2010
1

EDITORIAL The pilot program to privatize taxicab permits is a done deal. It’s a mistake, and its going to cause serious problems, but at this point, short of a new charter amendment, there’s not a lot anyone can do about it. Under the 2007 measure Proposition A, the Municipal Transportation Agency has the authority to revamp the rules for how cabs are regulated, and the MTA board, appointed by Mayor Gavin Newsom, has approved the privatization plan.

But the implementation rules can still be written to prevent some of the worst possible results.

Under the proposal, as many as 300 medallion holders who are now more than 70 years old will be allowed to sell their permits and pocket the money. The city will get 15 percent of the sale price. The idea is to encourage older drivers to retire. Since medallion holders must by law be active drivers — and the medallions are issued to drivers until they retire or die and the medallions are highly lucrative — the city’s taxi fleet includes a significant number of people who should no longer be behind the wheel.

But since 1978, the medallions have been issued to drivers for only a token fee — so in essence, the city just handed the older drivers a massive windfall. The permits — public property — are expected to sell for around $200,000, with holders pocketing 85 percent of that cash.

Newsom had much more ambitious plans — he initially wanted to put all the permits on the market and raise as much money for the city as possible. To her credit, Christine Hayashi, MTA’s taxi director, has held her ground and stuck to a plan she thinks will slowly address the problems in the current system (too many older drivers, too long a waiting list for permits).

But if this is going to be anything other than an utter disaster for cab drivers and the city, Hayashi needs to make sure that the permits don’t become speculative commodities — and that cab companies don’t use the new rules as a way to turn medallion buyers into indentured servants.

The rules still require that medallions be held by (and thus sold to) working drivers. But let’s face it: not many drivers have $200,000 cash on hand, so the system’s only going to work if the city can line up financing. Hayashi says she has several banks interested in making medallion loans (in fact, the banks will be the big winners here — medallions don’t depreciate and almost certainly won’t lose value over time). But the drivers will have to come up with a downpayment, probably 10 percent — and a lot of prospective buyers won’t have that much cash, either. One likely outcome: Cab companies will offer to front the downpayment for drivers who agree to associate their medallions with that company. Hayashi needs to press and enforce a rule that bans any cab company from lending money for permits. If this is going to benefit the average driver, the city ought to mandate low downpayments from participating banks or work with nonprofit microlenders to make those loans. (In fact, the city ought to be reaching out to the nonprofit finance community for advice on how to implement the entire program.)

MTA also needs to set a firm, reasonable cap on prices — at a level that a working driver earning the income possible at today’s fares can afford. Medallions can’t be allowed to sell at whatever the market will bear — or speculators and unscrupulous companies will be working all sorts of scams to cash in, the drivers will never have a chance, and the whole system will collapse.

True believers

David Talbot
-

April 5, 2010
0

The best season of the year is finally here. Baseball season. Sure, it’s only a game – but it’s a game that can be very serious business to the young people who play it.

I once was one of them, playing in the 1940s and 1950s on some of the many semi-professional teams that once were common in San Francisco, as in many other cities, as well as on teams in the Mendocino County, Southwestern Oregon and Western Canadian Leagues.

We were true believers, all of us. For there are no heretics on a baseball diamond. We accepted, without question, that the game must be governed by the mystical number of three and its multiples. Three strikes and you’re out. Three outs per inning. Nine players per side. Nine innings per game. Sixty feet, six inches from pitcher’s mound to home plate. Ninety feet between bases.

We knew, too, that there were foul lines within which we had to play, and that if we were hurt or weary, we had better stay in the game anyway. If we left, there was no returning. And we knew we had to do everything, to hit, to run and to field.

It was that way because there was no other possible way for it to be, the way it had been since the 1800s, when mustachioed men wearing dark suits and derby hats had laid down the rules.

The ball, for instance: It is ideally sized. At 5 to 5.25 ounces and 2.86 to 2.94 inches round, noted Roger Angell, baseball’s poet laureate, the ball “is a perfect object for a man’s hand,” one that “instantly suggests its purpose. . . to be thrown a considerable distance – thrown hard and with precision . . . If it were a fraction of an inch larger or smaller, a few centigrams heavier or lighter, the game would be utterly different. . . Feel the ball, turn it over in your hand . . .You want to get outdoors and throw this spare and sensual object to somebody.”

And that 90 feet between bases, as sportswriter Red Smith observed, “represents man’s closest approach to perfection. The fastest man in the world hits a grounder to an infielder, who fields it cleanly. The hitter must lose the race. But if the ball is bobbled or slowed by the grass, he can win. That’s perfect balance.”

There were unquestioned patterns of behavior as well as rules to guide us. We invariably swung three bats round and round over our heads – Louisville Sluggers, naturally – as we waited our turn to hit, and glared threateningly at the pitcher as we stood in the batter’s box pawing at the ground.

We glanced coolly down to the third base coaching box where coaches and managers ran their fingers over the bills of their caps, across the front of their uniform shirts, along the outside of their thighs, pinched their noses, scratched their ears, passing us secret orders we never dared challenge, telling us to hit, take a pitch, bunt.

In the field, we spat on the ground and into our gloves between pitches, rubbing the saliva deep into the leather of the pocket as we earnestly chattered, and chattered.
“Get him out, Mick . . . humbabe . . . you can do it . . . YOU CAN DO IT! Easyout! Easyout!

That’s how the professionals did it, and we were certain, many of us, that our play was preparing us for professional careers.

Like apprentices in any other trade, we had to master a special vocabulary. If a pitcher was left handed, he was a “southpaw,” of course. Men on base were “ducks on the pond.” As a second baseman or shortstop, I was part of the “keystone combination.”
Unfortunately, I was a “banjo hitter” as well, one of those batters who hit too many “Texas Leaguers” and easily caught “cans of corn,” and had too many “K’s” – strikeouts – charged against him.

We never asked how those terms came to be used, for the “why” of things didn’t concern young ballplayers, only the “what.”

We were careful never to step on the white foul line as we trotted on and off the field, although we did kick first or third base on the way by. It was things like that which caused – or didn’t cause – all the otherwise inexplicable happenings in baseball, a game in which the element of chance was as important as the precise rules we followed.

There was no other way to explain such things as why a ball hit to a particular spot in one inning would take a nice easy bounce into your waiting glove, but in the very next inning, a ball hit to the same spot would bounce up and over your glove.

That’s why I ate a liverwurst sandwich on a roll – always liverwurst, always on a roll — and washed it down with tomato juice – always tomato juice – before every game. Boy, how I learned to hate liverwurst; but once I had followed such a lunch by getting four hits. It had to be the liverwurst.

Standing out on the field we learned our importance. We were part of a team, sure, but each of us stood apart, alone. Each of us had a unique role to fill if we were to be a team, for there were nine of us, and nine different positions.

When the ball was hit, only one of us would reach it, and that player would be the center of attention; everybody would be watching, the other players, the spectators. What happened next in the game would be solely his doing. He was in control of his destiny and the destiny of those around him.

It was the same when your team was at bat, in that tense, electric moment before the ball was hit and attention shifted from batter to fielder. You stood alone at home plate waiting for the pitch, the entire team relying on what you would do.

There was no faking and no hiding. You did what you did in public. Your performance, your past, was never forgotten. It was etched forever in cold, hard statistics, facts that could never be challenged. Whatever you did would be compared to what others were doing, or had done, no matter when they had done it.

You were competing against players alive and dead, whose recorded performances would never die. Many of them were hitting or had hit .300 – and so should you. Many were playing or had played errorless games – and so should you.

And those umpires we argued with – the argument was just another part of the ritual of baseball. We knew a pitch was not a strike or a ball because it crossed or didn’t cross home plate at a point delineated in the rulebook. It was a strike or a ball because the umpire said it was a strike or a ball. A base runner was not out because we tagged him before he reached the base. He was out because the umpire said he was out.

We learned those things, and more. But we, of course, thought we were only learning baseball.

Dick Meister, formerly labor editor of the SF Chronicle and KQED-TV Newsroom, has covered labor, politics and other matters for a half-century. You can contact him through his website, www.dickmeister.com, which includes more than 250 of his recent columns.

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