There’s a lot of talk these days about special interests — how
they need to be curbed, reigned in, and otherwise muzzled. It’s the
same old story: Greedy fat cats shelling out gazillions in
political donations to maintain the status quo, despoil the
environment, and keep the boot heel of oppression firmly planted on
the necks of the working person. Or conversely, of fat-cat union
bosses converting the public purse into a feeding trough for their
lazy, featherbedding, pension-padding ilk. You get the picture. But
here in Santa Barbara, the reality stands in stark contrast to such
dire political mythology. We are graced by the finest, most
public-spirited special interests anywhere west of the Rockies. In
fact, some of my best friends are special interests. And I can
assure you their recent political spending sprees have been
inspired by only the purest of motives. Campaign finance reform?
Whatever for?
I know some people are fretting about how 1st District
Supervisor Salud Carbajal celebrated his birthday last November by
holding a big bash at the estate of a Montecito pal and inviting as
many deep-pocketed donors as he could. I think he raked in about
$123,000 in political campaign birthday presents. By Santa Barbara
standards that’s serious dough, especially considering Carbajal
isn’t due to run again for several years. With this kind of change
in his pockets, Carbajal can scare off all but the most suicidal
opponents. I know some suspicious minds might think all the
developers, land-use agents, property managers, and real estate
investors who gave Carbajal four-digit presents — and there were
plenty of them, folks — were hoping to secure some unseemly edge,
special consideration, or open line of communication. But I can
assure you they were simply celebrating Carbajal’s work ethic and
commitment to preserving the environment. However, I’m still
wondering why none of these same people showed up when I invited
them to my birthday party.
Likewise, there were more than a few eyebrows raised when
political consultant John Davies, his wife, and his vice president
and his wife, too, personally donated close to $10,000 to various
candidates in the last City Council race. Such direct political
philanthropy is extremely uncharacteristic of them; what was going
on? Knowing John as I do, I can assure you these donations have
nothing to do with any of the major development projects his
clients will soon be taking to the City Council. When the police
and firefighters unions spent $21,000 combined on candidates’
campaigns in the last council election, they were not focused on
anything as petty as their own contracts, but on the integrity of
public safety on the South Coast. When the Service Employees
International Union — which represents city workers — spent 17
grand in the same race, its chief concern was clearly elevating the
standard of living for low-wage workers. There’s some nasty
whispering that MarBorg trash titan Mario Borgatello — known around
City Hall simply as Mario, which indicates he has achieved the same
exalted one-name-only status as Cher, Bono, and Madonna — might pay
off the hefty personal loans some City Council candidates felt
forced to give themselves in the heat of the campaign battle. This
gift would be worth more than a few thou, which combined with the
several thou Mario and his family members have already given, would
amount to some serious five-figure buckage. Again, I can tell you
Mario felt compelled to donate so lavishly only because of his
desire to expand his recycling efforts and to divert even more
trash from the county’s landfill.
In a related vein, when members of our eight- and nine-figure
set decide to support their local Sheriff’s Council, are they
looking for special consideration should some young deputy pull
them over for driving under the influence? Not at all. The special
badges offered to the five-digit donors provide nothing more than
peace of mind. I have been told by well-placed sources that these
donors sleep better at night knowing our deputies have the
bullet-proof vests and other equipment they need. Likewise, I know
developer Jeff Bermant tosses and turns for nights on end because
Santa Barbara’s quickly disappearing middle-class can’t afford the
price of even a tear-down condo anymore. He gives so generously in
political races only because he wants to build “workforce” housing
our teachers and nurses can afford. And of course, there’s Peter
Sperling, who in the past year donated a whopping $29,000 to Das
Williams — both as city councilmember and as a 2nd District
candidate. Sperling, it turns out, is as green of heart as he is of
wallet, and wants only to protect our open spaces from development
and desecration.
I know all this money is making some people nervous. If money
talks, they say, Santa Barbara politics have recently become a
shouting fest. That’s why some people are talking about campaign
finance reform even for City Hall. One idea is merely to cap what
candidates can spend and raise. But that doesn’t limit what
independent expenditure committees — invariably with names like
Citizens for Good Government — can raise and spend to trash their
candidate’s opponents without ever giving their candidate one red
cent. The other idea is public financing of elections, the
cornerstone of the California Clean Money campaign now gathering
steam statewide. While some of the details are complicated, the
idea is simple; with politicians, you get what you pay for. If we
don’t want special interests buying our representatives, then the
public has to buy them with public funds. That comes from taxpayer
dollars. I know this sounds kooky, but it’s been tried in such
bastions of socialism as Maine and Arizona, where reportedly it has
cured everything from low voter turnout to falling arches and
psoriasis.
But like I say, Santa Barbara is blessed with special interests
that are, well, special. People in other parts of the country may
have cause for alarm, but here, our political donors are altruistic
paragons of civic virtue. And besides, fallen arches and psoriasis
aren’t so bad once you learn to live with ’em. — Nick Welsh