Paging Anthony Wagner

Whose Hair Do You Gotta Muss Around Here to Get a Mental-Health Treatment Facility?

Anthony Wagner | Credit: Paul Wellman (file)

[Updated: Thu., Feb. 15, 2024, 8:20am]

STILL CRAZY AFTER ALL THESE YEARS: The only thing more unforgivable than getting something wrong is getting it right. Just ask any reporter. The only thing even more unforgivable still is getting it right too soon. Just ask Anthony Wagner, the bigger-than-life former spokesperson and “public engagement officer” for the Santa Barbara Police Department during the chiefdom of former Police Chief Lori Luhnow. Wagner was not everyone’s cup of tea. He wore loud neon ties and even louder socks. He combed his hair back in one of those sculpted waves only Catholic school boys know how to achieve. Within the department, Wagner was something of a freak; he actually liked talking to reporters. Worse yet, he liked reporters themselves. We, it turns out, were the only ones who listened to him. Personally, I enjoyed the exchanges. The problem with Wagner was that he had a rambunctious, inventive, thoughtful, and belligerent brain. The victim of a Jesuit education, Wagner was cursed with knowing he was the smartest guy in any room. Being generous by nature, he couldn’t help sharing that insight.

I mention Wagner because in the last three months, I endured three massive deep-dive brain dumps on how best to keep people who are mentally ill out of county jail and get them into treatment instead. These efforts got primetime billing during county supervisors’ meetings, reflecting the extreme level of desperation with which the problem is taken at the highest levels.

The latest involved an exhaustive audit of all the programs falling within the bureaucratic rubric “Crisis Response Services.” The report called to mind the old joke, “The food’s no good but the portions are too small.” It turns out the South Coast’s Mobile Crisis Support team — think SWAT squads for people in extreme duress — performed at productivity level of just 12 percent. I added the word “just” to highlight what should otherwise be obvious. The departmental goal is 50 percent. Even co-response teams — touted as the one innovative success story in the mental health crisis universe — had serious issues too. The South County teams — in which mental health clinicians team up with law enforcement officers to respond to acute crisis calls that could go seriously sideways if cops not trained in the ninja arts of de-escalation showed up instead — posted productivity ratings of only 20 percent. Again, I add the word “only” to highlight the obvious; 50 percent is the target.

I mention Anthony Wagner of the orange ties and Jimmy Neutron hairdo because way back in 2015 — nine years now — he had the temerity to ask Cottage Health to pony up one doctor and two nurses to form the mental health equivalent of the Mod Squad, hitting the street in search of mentally ill homeless people who, Wagner said, accounted for one-half the department’s total call-for-service volume. The top 25 of these individuals — known as Frequent Flyers — cost the department half a million bucks. Wagner thought Cottage should provide $187,000.

I thought it was a great idea then. I think it’s still a great idea now. Naturally, it bombed. Cottage had just given out $900,000 in community wellness grants and Wagner missed that boat. Besides, you just don’t talk to Cottage that way. If sociologist C. Wright Mills were still alive and trying to locate Santa Barbara’s ruling class, he would find it serving on the boards of Cottage Health. As Wagner knew, the ruling class doesn’t like having its hair mussed. But Anthony Wagner musses hair. That’s why I like him. I remember speaking to Cottage’s Vice President for Advancement Katy Bazylewicz at the time. She was decidedly not amused. I remember her asking — in response to Wagner’s plan — “And do what with these people? Where are we supposed to take them?”

That was the $64 million question then. It’s the $64 million question today. After sitting through the aforementioned brain dumps, what the supervisors heard yet again is that facilities needed to treat the population of people who otherwise wind up in county jail do not exist. Yes, there have been improvements. But not nearly enough.

I mention Cottage because its executive action team — including CEO Ron Werft and Head of Psychiatry Dr. Paul Erickson — showed up at a recent board meeting to urge the supervisors in the strongest language possible short of screaming to delay implementing a new state law that will require local governments to pick up people deemed “gravely disabled” because of chronic substance-abuse disorders and place them in locked-up treatment facilities. Because those treatment facilities remain more hypothetical than real, Werft warned that the Cottage emergency rooms would be engulfed in chaos. Wait a year, he pleaded. The supervisors obliged.

In the moment, I couldn’t help but wonder if Werft had shown up sooner — like in 2015, when his hospital’s own community health research indicated mental health ranked as the number-one greatest unmet health need — maybe he wouldn’t have had to show up to warn about the impeding chaos. It’s still not too late. The county of Santa Barbara has acres of unused land. It also has the capacity to sell bonds for public benefit projects. For the first time, Medi-Cal insurance now offers payment for treating Frequent Flyers. In other words, there’s more money available. Maybe Cottage Health — because no other entity in Santa Barbara County can convene a gathering of movers and shakers like Cottage — could help lead a community-wide charge to create the public-private partnership necessary to create the therapeutic spaces needed to treat our tortured souls. By all means, we also needed to bring in Marian Medical and Sansum-Sutter too.

Yes, I admit I went to Catholic school. But no, I don’t wear neon orange neckties. And I’m not looking for a head of hair to muss. But we have a true moment of opportunity here. The problem isn’t going away. It’s getting worse. So please, don’t make me have to call Anthony Wagner.

Correction: An earlier version of this story was missing the first two sentences, which have been reinstated.