Who let the dogs out?

Meet five community watchdogs (human, not canine) who keep our local government honest

They sit in the front row at council meetings for five hours at a time and listen to boring discussions about lot line adjustments, sewer system capacity, and contracting for landscape maintenance services.

They pour over public documents looking for clues as to any misstep, and are not shy about writing letters or speaking up for any injustice they foresee.

This isn't their job. They don't get paid, and very often they are criticized for their efforts while being labeled a "radical" or "trouble-maker."

But they persist. And secretly, we admire them. Why? Because we need them. And they do what we don't have the stamina, the guts, or perhaps the time to do ourselves.

Community watchdogs have been keeping our governments honest since the signing of the Declaration of Independence. Their roll is similar to that of a journalist: to keep guard of the public trust.

But what motivates these people to give so much of themselves in the name of community? What drives these people to keep government honest? Reporters Tracy Idell Hamilton and Anne Quinn interviewed five well-known community watch-dogs to find out.

 

Marked by injustice

When Hank Alberts was a small child, he had an experience he would never forget, an experience that led him to his position as president of the local chapter of the ACLU.

His mother was a garment worker in New York City. When her union went on strike, the workers barricaded themselves inside the plant. Several of the children from Albert's school came out to throw the women sandwiches and drinks through the window.

Young Alberts got caught in the crossfire.

"I was beaten by company goons, while the cops did nothing. Those blows left an indelible mark on me. I couldn't understand why it was so wrong to throw food in the windows."

As an adult, the reverberations of those blows stuck with him, and today, he helps protect others whose rights may have been compromised. The ACLU gets phone calls every single day from people needing help, he said.

"People brag about their constitutional rights all the time. But they rarely thank–or think about–the people who protect them. The ACLU is not motivated by what's fashionable. We're here to protect the Bill of Rights. That's our only client."

The retired art and English teacher–he taught at San Luis High School for many years before his retirement in 1994–is following numerous issues. He has just scored one victory, with the help of Sheriff Pat Hedges.

The federal courts have just ruled that it is unconstitutional for law enforcement agencies to print a section of the California Civil Code on citizen complaint forms that reminds complainants that they can be sued for defamation if they print anything untrue on the complaint form. The statement was too chilling, the courts found.

Alberts wrote a letter to Hedges, requesting that he update the department's complaint forms, which Hedges has agreed to do. "I've already sent him a thank you note," said Alberts. Hedges is now looking into the issue of "re-arrests," that happen when a suspect hasn't been charged within the mandated 48 hours, so is rearrested rather than let go.

One of the ACLU's volunteer lawyers kept track of re-arrests at the county jail, Alberts said, and found some people were languishing, not just for days, but weeks before seeing a judge.

Alberts is also working, with other members of the community, on drafting an ordinance that would create a police oversight commission of civilians.

Alberts knows he has an uphill battle explaining to people in San Luis Obispo County why an oversight commission is both necessary and good. "But one thing about activists I've noticed," he said. "They're not easily discouraged, and they're persistent. And persistence pays off."

–Tracy Idell Hamilton

The executive approach

Arroyo Grande resident Otis Page retired as an IBM executive 20 years ago, but he hasn’t stopped working. Now he’s a community activist who scrutinizes government documents with the same eye for detail that he once reserved for technical documentation.

Page takes officials, such as Supervisor Katcho Achadjian, to lunch and exchanges views pleasantly, as he once engaged business associates in Boston, New York and San Jose.

Page, who is 70, wasn’t planning to spend his retirement this way, but, he said, two little old ladies drew him in.

"Grace Stillwell and Jane Adams came by and said ‘did you know they want to reroute Hwy 227 right behind us?’" Page hadn’t planned to live next to a highway when he bought his Arroyo Grande house seven years ago, so he went to City Hall to researched the proposal. "When I looked at their justification, I found an error in the numbers."

According to Page, the staff report stated that if Hwy 227 was not rerouted, traffic going up through Corbett Canyon would increase by 400 percent, whereas traffic on Hwy 101 was only expected to increase by 100 percent.

"They were assuming that U. S. Highway 101 would not grow from two lanes to three lanes. That’s a fallacy. I went to the San Luis Obispo Council of Governments (SLOCOG) and said, 'You can’t say that. You can’t bind a future board to a policy of keeping a state highway to two lanes,'" he said. "Then District 2 Supervisor Bud Laurent agreed. The road was never rerouted. That’s how I was introduced to government."

Differences in how government is run as opposed to private businesses still amaze him.

"If a business was run the way government is, it would quickly go bankrupt," he said. "Government doesn’t work at earning money, they work on spending it. Arroyo Grande has spent $400,000 on rewriting its General Plan," he said. (City manager Steve Adams said the figure is closer to $350,000).

Page also points out that few businesses could survive that and the "massive turnover of staff" that Arroyo Grande has recently experienced. "We’ve had three city managers, and had four people in the job of Community Development director in seven years."

Sometimes taking a stand results in becoming unpopular. "For every word of praise, you hear 10 words condemning you," Page said. But he continues to do it. When asked why, he responded, "People come to the table for different reasons. In my own case, I am seriously offended by lack of proper thinking."

–Anne Quinn

A woman’s perspective

Colleen Martin is a busy mother with two children, who has covered Lucia Mar School Board meetings "solidly" for seven years.

"One of the reasons I do it is I live close. I make dinner and get the kids started on their homework and then I think, I’ll just go down to that school board meeting, or City Council meeting. I’ve usually read the [agenda] packet ahead of time in the library, and I know what issues are going to be discussed."

Martin frequently finds that being an active civic participant puts her in the minority.

"A lot of the time I am the only non-employee of the district at the school board meetings," she said. "I represent a population that is normally not represented–someone who’s got kids, who’s doing car pool, who’s paying out money for every little thing. There’s no press at school board meetings. Often what you read in the papers about the district is only what the Superintendent tells the press. I’m always fighting for honesty."

Recently, Martin filed a formal complaint with the State Department of Education regarding fiscal mismanagement of $50,000 due to violation of conflict of interest laws at one of the schools in the Lucia Mar district.

"A lot of parents would question why I would file a complaint about one of our own schools, a complaint which may result in the school having to refund Sacramento $50,000," she said. "I did it because they spent the money improperly and that isn’t right."

Martin also got involved in the Arroyo Grande general plan process. When she saw the first plan map and realized all the agricultural lands were getting zoned for development, she made signs on butcher paper and hung them all over town, warning people that "if you care about preserving ag land you better come to the next meeting." People did.

Martin participated in a general plan core group that created a survey regarding the General Plan update.

"It’s the best thing we ever did," said Martin. It formed a written instrument, something people can reflect back on. People are still talking about it."

Civic involvement has created a new common interest between her and her father, Mike Titus. "My Dad and I could never have a conversation about politics on a national and state level, but when it comes to Arroyo Grande City Council meetings and we see eye to eye, it’s great."

Being involved takes a lot of time, involves pouring over documents in the library or city hall and requires critical timing even though government moves so slowly that what little satisfaction in it isn’t immediate. These are some of the reasons that Martin thinks only 10 percent of the public get involved, and those that do often burn out.

"People don’t have the time to care, but all want to live in a nice place," said Martin. "I think you can make a difference, but I hate that you always have to complain to change things."

–Anne Quinn

Eco-hooligan or S.O.B.?

A tiny least tern dives into the waters at Oso Flaco Lake. Bill Denneen goes nuts.

"Oh, look at that! Ooh! Ah, ah! Look at that, look at that!" he pipes to the two classes of sixth graders from Shell beach Elementary School who've accompanied him on this day at the lake. "That's the least tern, rare and endangered. Oh there it goes again! Look at that, you're seeing a rare and endangered least tern!"

The kids, boisterous and inquisitive, eyeball both the bird and the old man, his white beard reaching down past his T-shirt (which holds the message "Citizens for a Vehicle-Free Nipomo Dunes"), long white hair in a pony tail, deeply tan from his hours in the sun.

Earlier, the 75-year-old self-described eco-hooligan of the Nipomo Mesa told the kids that he'd pulled a muscle running, and so would not be able to outrun them that day.

That pulled muscle won't slow him down for long. Elder Bill is one of the Central Coast's most well-known and energetic watchdogs, keeping environmental issues on the front burner through his columns, eco-tours, e-mail calls to action, and impassioned pleas at various government meetings.

At his home on the Nipomo Mesa, Denneen runs a hostel for travelers, and practices what he preaches, with chickens, goats, pigs, a garden, fruit trees, and oaks he planted from seedlings. Those seedlings, planted in 1962, are so large today he cannot get his arms around them. "But I hug my oaks everyday," he said.

He recently attended a forum on the virtues of xeriscaping, using native plants to create a garden or habitat that takes little additional water, and attracts native fauna.

Getting vehicles off the dunes is his latest and most vigorous campaign right now, but this is a man who never rests. He's founded several new groups, from Citizens for a Vehicle Free Nipomo Dunes, Friends of Point Sal, Friends of Black Lake Canyon, and Friends of Nipomo Parks.

Denneen's purist views, which he smilingly calls "extreme," help keep the debate over environmental protection from succumbing to political expedience. "I try to be more outspoken," he said, cackling a little, "to make regular environmentalists look reasonable."

For all his tireless crusading, Denneen is not a man who takes himself too seriously. "Someone wrote a letter to the editor calling me a sterile old bachelor," he said. "I love that, because it stands for S.O.B!" The retired biologist said one of the big reasons he does what he does is simply because it's fun.

But he has a serious side. "Another reason I do what I do is because of the education I received, thanks to the G.I. Bill. I wouldn't have been able to get an education without it, and I want to give back."

Giving back, and treading lightly on the earth, is what Bill Denneen is all about. He believes that he and other activists like him make a difference. "People call me all the time and thank me for what I do," he said, surrounded by children in the dunes off the lake. "I hope I inspire people."

–Tracy Idell Hamilton

Atascadero's tree hugger

What Atascadero resident Joan O’Keefe loves about her town is all the trees. "I love driving to Atascadero from Paso Robles. When you drive over the hills and look down, it looks like a forest–you can’t even see there’s a town there," she said. "I love that."

One reason it looks so green in due to the efforts of O’Keefe, one of many Atascadero residents who love, and fight to protect, trees.

"That’s the one issue that I focus on and I stick with it, because its not enough to have a law. If developers say they’re taking care of the problem, someone has to go out and check. I go to construction sites, take pictures, write memos to City Hall and do follow up. If you don’t, things fall apart," she said.

Atascadero has a native tree ordinance to protect its oaks, the result of work by a group of committed citizens led by Marge Mackey, Atascadero’s first woman mayor. It was updated–and some think weakened–in 1998. Enforcing it takes concerted efforts by the Atascadero Native Tree Association, and persistent citizens like O’Keefe.

When she first got involved, O’Keefe found an able partner in Ursula Luna, wife of councilman George Luna, who now heads the Atascadero Homeowners Association, a grass roots political group concerned with a host of local issues.

"I told Ursula, we have to approach this like a job. We have to go out and check sites. At that time Gordon Davis was a big player here and he would cut down thousands of trees. To put in a road, it would require cutting 200 trees. There was no protection, laws were ignored," she said.

O’Keefe, who said she didn’t have a clue about CEQA (the California Environmental Quality Act), but began reading documents and learning the rules. She learned about oaks from her husband Tim, a forester.

O’Keefe has a bumper sticker on her car, which says, "Speak your mind even if your voice shakes." Initially, public speaking was hard for her. When she moved to Atascadero in 1987, she had never been to a planning commission or city council meeting. Now she addresses the Atascadero City Council and planning commission in a steady, reasonable voice at nearly every session.

"One of the reasons I go to almost all the planning commission meetings is that none of the land use decisions come before the city council. A lot of times if there is a lot-size split, city staff only looks to see if the resulting two lots meet minimum lot size requirements or if the building pad is on a slope.

"But what about getting there? There are often huge impacts (to the trees) for putting in roads," she said. "Often tree removals get on the consent calendar, where its not discussed. I pull it and get it discussed publicly. Now that I’ve been talking so much about trees, the planning commissioners ask about a development’s impact on trees more often."

Twice O’Keefe had to resort to legal action to see that tree protection was enforced. One case forced a developer to do a complete EIR which resulted in moving roads for a proposed housing development that saved trees and lessened the impact to the community.

Tree protection takes a lot of effort by others, said O’Keefe who gives credit to city staff, and acknowledges the importance of having a good arborist involved who’s willing to tell the truth. "I don’t want to see our county become like Thousand Oaks, where they cut down almost all the trees before they passed an ordinance. By the time they hired an arborist he had to carry a gun," she said.

O’Keefe worries about the county, which has no ordinance to protect oaks. "Developments going in are taking 20 trees here, 100 trees there. People don’t realize how many trees are coming down," she said.

"I view my role as educating people including the commissioners and the public, sharpening their eyesight. Because if you can bring a few more people on board, there are that many more eyes that are watching," she said.Æ

Anne Quinn and Tracy Hamilton are ferocious watchdogs themselves. Be careful, they might bite.