No Whine Before Its Time

The year 2023 was a hellacious one. For the planet. For the species. And for me personally. During times such as these, my father espoused what he liked to call “retrograde amnesia.” You can’t be haunted, he’d point out, by things you can’t remember. But I preferred a more aggressive, proactive approach. “If you’re not in denial,” I replied, “you’re not paying attention.”

If nothing else, I’ll get rich off the bumper sticker royalties. 

Even so, a lot happened. Some of it actually registered, despite my best efforts. We ended the year the same way we started it: with torrential rains. Not enough for Noah or his Ark, but enough to rack up $150 million in mandatory road repair bills throughout the county. And enough for many of us to think we can forget we live in the land of perpetual drought. And it’s getting more perpetual all the time. FYI, 2023 was the hottest year in recorded history, exceeding the prior year’s record by yet another record amount. So yes, our reservoir at Lake Cachuma experienced a biblically orgasmic spill. But no, there’s no snow on the mountains. You can do the math. 

If we really expect to build the 25,000 new housing units that the State of California decreed we must — ag fields be damned — we will need a lot more than magical thinking about hypothetical new water-efficient gadgets to get us there. Good thing California just passed its long-awaited toilet-to-tap guidelines. We can now begin to convert the billions of gallons of sewage water we otherwise flush into the sea into something safe enough to brush our teeth with. 

But here’s the deal. We occupy a wonderful bubble. While the rest of the planet was busy preparing for Armageddon and World War III, Santa Barbara’s peace and tranquility was threatened by a looming showdown between the Brawlin’ Betties — certified badass roller-derby queens with the torn fishnets to prove it — and Santa Barbara’s nascent pickleball mafia, embodied by Dynamite Pickleball. At issue was hegemony over Earl Warren Showgrounds, itself a subliminal, underutilized 34-acre monument to one of the great historical bromances in all Santa Barbara history — the truly touching bond between former Supreme Court Justice Earl Warren and TM Storke, former owner, publisher, and benevolent despot of the Santa Barbara News-Press. In the end, the brawlers and the pickleballers managed to work things out. No one was thrilled, but no more fishnets got torn, no paddles extruded from any skulls.

In other words,there is hope.

And yes, we spent years of our lives we can never get back arguing about such things as parklets, a word that didn’t even exist until COVID struck and sent us scurrying outdoors. (Really, it took a deadly worldwide pandemic to wake us up to the obvious virtues of outdoor dining?) And no, we have not come close to achieving the necessary lightbulb moment about how to re-energize our downtown despite the $800,000 spent by City Hall on a Big Picture planning exercise undertaken by 17 certified Big Brains. (How many Big Brains does it take to screw in a lightbulb? None; they’re all so brilliant, lightbulbs are superfluous.) 

But here’s the really good news: The Powers that Be have concluded that big shopping malls have reached their expiration date and need to be put out of everyone’s misery. Plans are afoot to scrap all of Paseo Nuevo — excepting the empty Nordstrom building — and put in its place about 500 units of housing. Similar plans have been hatched to replace a massive chunk of La Cumbre Plaza — as economically dead as anything downtown, but without the homeless people to blame it on — with 650 housing units. Naturally, these plans remain very much in the inception stage. Whatever is eventually proposed, we know for absolute certainty, will be way too big and way too expensive. And no, there will not be nearly enough affordable units. And yes, the city’s sacrosanct height limit will be tossed overboard.

It’s a start. Another big start has been the emergence of a sustained, effective, creative, and relentless movement — for and by the tenants — to protect renters from the scourge of mass renovictions perpetrated by hedge-fund operators who “discovered” the virtues of rental housing as an investment opportunity with a rare vengeance during the pandemic. Under pressure from these activists, the County Supervisors and the Santa Barbara City Council have passed emergency protection ordinances to shield tenants from mass no-fault evictions. When those protections proved insufficient, new ones were added. The City of Goleta is now jumping onboard, as well. Special acknowledgments are due County Supervisor Laura Capps and City Councilmember Mike Jordan for how fast and furious they were off the blocks once mass renovictions were initiated in their respective districts.

Two not-so-small points: Pains need to be taken to distinguish the big hedge-fund investors from the smaller mom-and-pop landlords who, in their own quiet way, have helped subsidize the local housing market by not going after every last cent possible. Tactically and strategically, this is the smart thing to do. It’s also the fair thing to do. Secondly, emergency protection ordinances are only as effective as one’s ability to enforce them. 

Right now, the Legal Aid Foundation of Santa Barbara County is really the only game in town specializing in tenant protection. Its attorneys are overwhelmed. Waiting lists are long. Here’s my suggestion: Earlier this year, the Santa Barbara Foundation — the oldest, biggest, baddest philanthropy in Santa Barbara where all the one-percenters have traditionally shielded their estates from the clutches of inheritance taxes — announced it was jumping into the housing fray, both feet first. Specifically, the Foundation announced it was looking at helping on the legal front. If it hasn’t already, now is the time. If it has, thanks and do more. A robust legal presence is required to keep the bastards at bay. This year, some economist is bound to win a Nobel Prize by “discovering” that the best — and cheapest — way to prevent homelessness is by keeping people in their homes. Duh!

Just remember, you heard it here first. 

Lastly, Santa Barbara’s foundational fabric sustained multiple contusions and abrasions this past year. After 102 years, Sansum Clinic finally threw in the towel — after trying for the past 15 years — as one of the only large independent community health clinics not affiliated with a hospital in the state. Sansum agreed to be swallowed whole by Sutter Health, a major health-care megalith from the north that settled with the state Attorney General to the tune of $600 million for anti-trust violations and price gouging. That was several years ago, and a new CEO has taken the helm. Hopefully, the new entity will have better luck hiring new doctors and nurses and keeping the ones already here. Hopefully, patients will be able to be seen within the same calendar year as the day they call for an appointment. 

Likewise, 2023 was the year Wendy P. McCaw pulled the plug on the Santa Barbara News-Press, killing outright what had long beenfestering along on life support. We’ve beat that dead horse plenty already, but things ain’t the same. 

Lastly, the Franciscan Friars of California — without whose missionary forbearers there would be no Santa Barbara to argue over — declared bankruptcy to shield itself from the last pulse of lawsuits filed by the grown-up children who were sexually abused by the friars in years past. I remember arguing with the Franciscans’ Provincial Minister about 30 years ago about whether priests should be married. I was ridiculously naïve, he told me, to think that would change anything. “You think priests are the only ones doing this?” he demanded, his voice dripping with bemused incredulity. In the moment, I thought he was just covering his ass. No doubt he was. But pretty much every day since, we’ve all been given cause to reflect just how right he was. 

On that cheerful note, Happy New Year. And I’ll be selling my bumper stickers in the lobby. Remember, there are only 361 day of shopping days ’til next Christmas.