A paranormal research group (snicker) says it has recorded voices inaudible to the human ear in the old buildings at Heritage Junction and is offering to take you on a exclusive ghost hunting expedition of the property for only $185.

Such is what passes for news these days over KHTS, which devoted a pretty long advertisement article to the strange and wacky phenomena experienced in the historical area, consisting of an old train station, school house, a tiny Ramona chapel and other buildings.

If you’re like me, you probably checked your calendar after reading the story; alas it is not April 1 nor is it the week before Halloween, so let’s dig in to this seemingly serious report.

Reporter Jon Dell states that things have been getting “spooky” at Heritage Junction lately and that many people are starting to ask questions.

Pat Saletore, the SCV Historical society’s Executive Director, confirms the suspicions:

 “I sometimes tell stories that I have heard or experienced, but mostly we have tried to avoid the subject,” says SCV Historical Society Executive Director Pat Saletore. “I hear things all the time that I chalk up to spending time in old buildings, my imagination or whatever.  Every now and then, though, I find myself walking out to the main entrance calling ‘Hello?  Is someone there?’ –when there isn’t anyone there.”

Somehow, and Dell doesn’t detail how, an obviously enterprising group called the American Paranormal Research Association (website)  contacted the Historical Society and was apparently invited in to search the property for wizards, poltergeists, ghosts, gremlins, trolls,  and goonies.

Not surprisingly, they did find something. Cue Saletore:

“They found primarily EVPs (Electronic Voice Phenomena—recordings that are not heard by investigators, but recorded on electronic media like tape recorders or digital recorders) and audio recordings that were actually experienced by investigators.  The really spooky thing is that some of them supported the stories we have been told by psychics who have been invited to visit!”

So evidently this isn’t the first time the Historical Society has brought paranormal experts on site to investigate goblins. Saletore says they’ve had psychics who have heard the same words recorded by the audio devices.

Sadly, no hint on what those words were or whether the ghosts have any insight into the things that trouble Santa Clarita currently.

The paranormal association website says they are committed to researching “all things Paranormal and related to Parapsychology” and says its purpose is to obtain “absolute proof of paranormal events.” It invites people in the field of Paranormal studies and Parapsychology to join the Association as researchers, and hopes to build a group of researchers in every state to find “undeniable proof” of the other side.

Actually, check all that. There are so many “Association of Paranormal American” groups it was hard to find this group’s real website. After some more digging, I found that the group hosting the Heritage Junction party doesn’t even have a website; rather they only have a MySpace page and describe themselves as  “a team of paranormal researchers and musicians,” in a “band known as Vow Of The Repentant.” They are based out of Bakersfield and their MySpace page has some audio and video clips of supposed paranormal activity (unclear if it’s from Heritage Junction).

They’re also apparently enterprising.  Dell ends the article saying that the group “offered” to host a Ghost Hunting Party for up to 16 individuals for only $185 per person. For that, you’ll get to spend the night in the Saugus Train station “freight room,” a catered dinner, a continental breakfast, a lecture about “ghost hunting procedures and equipment” and a DVD of “evidence captured after review by APRA and sent to each participant.”

In any event, it looks like the Historical Society stands to benefit at least partly from this event, and if it gets more people interested in SCV history (yes, even 16 more would be great), then I’m all for it. But I feel it sullies and cheapens the SCV Historical Society to partner with a couple of musicians moonlighting as paranormal experts who sell tickets to the public.

Then again, what did I expect? Gravitas about Santa Clarita history? I wonder what Jerry Reynolds or Doc Rioux would say?

This week’s Christian Science Monitor has an interesting article on ciclovia, a concept that started in Latin America and is sweeping the United States and Europe.

So what is it? Well, ciclovia is rather simple: cities that participate in the informal program shut down major streets and roads to vehicle traffic and instead open it up to bicyclists, pedestrians and all sorts of other non-motorized traffic during a given time period.

The trend started in Bogota, Colombia, some 30 years ago as a “way to promote walking and bicycling and to encourage the mingling of people from all backgrounds on the city’s streets.”

Now it’s becoming popular in the US. The Monitor says Portland Oregon, San Francisco, New York and other US cities are considering shutting down miles and miles of roads to vehicles and opening them up to pedestrians and bicyclists.

Organizers in these cities have attempted to keep the events from becoming just another place for vendors to hawk their goods, instead promoting the idea that empty streets become open spaces full of activities, fun, and even “dancing.”

Of course if you’ve read this blog for awhile, you know I got rid of my car and bike all over Santa Clarita. So I’m not exactly objective about this idea, but I think it could really work in Santa Clarita.

Consider that we already have some of these types of events every year. In the fall, there’s the sidewalk chalk festival in Newhall. In the spring, there’s a Blessed Mary Italian festival on Town Center Drive. And in the summer, part of Town Center drive is closed every Friday night for a concert put on, ironically, by Lexus of Valencia.

All those events attract lots of people, making them popular social occasions that, in my opinion, help Santa Clarita grow its own culture.

But what if we expanded on those ideas and did a weekly ciclovia in Santa Clarita? I envision shutting down McBean from Valencia to Magic Mountain parkway and Town Center Drive completely to vehicle traffic from Friday evening to Sunday morning, and opening up the entire road to pedestrians, cyclists, and others, just the way the city shut down McBean in that area during the Amgen race in 2007 and 2008.

Closing the road would invite cyclists and pedestrians to cruise down to Town Center Drive where they could listen to live music, dine at one of the restaurants (which increasingly have outdoor patio seating), perhaps shop at some of the stores or vendor booths (this is Santa Clarita after all, and vendor booths are ever-present) or just hang out and enjoy the scene.

Along with that would be a great chance for residents to socialize, entertain their kids in a fun and healthy way, and see how easy it is to bike or walk in the SCV.

I doubt businesses in the Town Center area would object much. There’s multiple ways to get into Valencia Town Center from Valencia Blvd, Magic Mountain Parkway, Citrus Drive and other areas. And they’d appreciate a crowd every week near their stores.

If it all sounds a bit vague, that’s deliberate. The Monitor article says cities that experiement with ciclovia never really know what to expect, but are usually surprised with the results. A San Francisco organizer of that city’s ciclovia says “A city street becomes an entirely different landscape when you take the cars away. It creates opportunities for people to come out and exercise, meet their neighbors, and learn to appreciate their city in a whole new way.”

So what do you think?

The chords of an acoustic guitar pierced the cool night air as my wife and I emerged from a dark section on one of Valencia’s paseos. “What’s that noise?” we thought as our minds tried to separate the music from the automatic sprinklers, the rustling trees, our labored breath, and the rhythmic mechanical clicks of our bicycles.

As we rolled down the bridge, we heard it again: a beautiful guitar rhythm. Our eyes tried to make sense of the darkness around us, trying in vain to confirm what our ears were telling us: someone was making music in the middle of the night in Valencia.

Barefooted and in tattered jeans, the girl we came across couldn’t have been more than 15 years old, but here she was strumming away on her guitar and singing a Bob Dylan-esque folk song. We stopped to chat with this Siren on our own journey home.

When you don’t have a car in Santa Clarita scenes like the above play out often on Santa Clarita’s alternative transportation network. Whether on a smelly city bus, a relatively high-speed multi-use path, or a winding paseo shrouded by trees and populated by teens, your journey can often times become more interesting than your destination.

The Case of the Japanese Restaurant Waiters

Case in point: three weeks ago, I rode my bike from Newhall to attend the No Doubt tribute concert at Central Park. I met my wife and mother-in-law there, and we had a nice leisurely evening sitting in the soft cool grass. With about a half hour to the end of the concert, we decided to leave, and I hoped I could prove the value and utility of my bicycle by beating my wife to home.

But it didn’t work out that way.

As I navigated my way onto the bike path adjacent to Bouquet Junction, I was stopped cold by -of all things- a waiter from Kisho Japanese restaurant.

“Sir, excuse me, but do you have a cell phone?” he asked, an edge of panic in his voice.

Just then, two other men -another waiter and a 30 something man with a buzz-cut, in a black shirt, cargo shorts, and flip-flops- walked up behind cell-phone requesting Waiter #1.

“What for?” I asked.

“Sir, this man just violated a girl at our restaurant, and he’s trying to escape. We followed him all the way here and we want to call our restaurant,” he said.

I looked at the man, who appeared a bit intoxicated and quite angry that he was being followed on foot by two waiters.

“Fuck it man, just forget it man, these guys are crazy,” the man said to me with anger in his eyes.

I handed my phone over to the waiter who called his restaurant, advised them of his location, and asked the restaurant to call the Sheriff’s station.

Meanwhile, the suspected “violator” marched on down the path towards a gas station at the corner of Bouquet and Soledad. Hot on his heels was the other waiter, a 20 something Asian guy who stood about 5′6.

Many people, at this point, would have beat a path to get out of what looked like a tense situation. But I’m naturally curious, so I asked Waiter #1 for more information.

“He was just sitting there with his friends at the sushi bar and reached over and violated a 16 year old girl. The girl is in tears,” Waiter #1 told me. “When we caught him doing it, he ran from the restaurant and we followed him here.”

Waiter #1 was by now speaking rapidly, emotionally. He was clearly excited.

“My friend has a black belt” in some martial art or other, he told me, “and he’s going to kick this guy’s ass!” he continued, before running off to join his friend.

I glanced over at the Asian waiter, who by this time had physically stopped the suspected violator in the gas station lot. He was untying his apron, and rolling up his sleeves. He looked ready to pummel the suspect, but I guess the threat of force was enough: the suspect went and sat down on the curb.

I hung around that gas station for about 20 minutes, hoping to see a Deputy roll up to diffuse the situation. But the waiters apparently never called the Sheriff’s station, or Deputies were simply delayed in getting there, so I left.

Fortunately, not all of my bicycling encounters are so ugly or filled with tension, but I do often run into the darker side of the SCV at night on those trails.

Drugged out teens, homeless men, and mother and daughter in Newhall

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve rode my bike through a park on a paseo and watched as a group of teens at a picnic table lit up a joint or a bowl of pot amid raucous laughter. It seems the paseos are a great place to stroll or walk by day, but by night they become the domain of teens, drug use and care-free summer fun.

Life in the slow lane also reveals Santa Clarita’s less fortunate, the folks I now call “The Bridge People.” These are the folks so down on their luck they call the underside of the Bouquet Bridge, or the small concrete railroad bridges in Newhall their home. I find them dozing off at mid day, in the early morning hours, or making camp at night. They sleep on concrete or in the sandy bed of a dried creek, oblivious to the 50,000 cars passing overhead or the mile long freight train that rolls through town once a day. I often spot them in small groups, huddling up with tattered old blankets or a sleeping bag or in some cases, just the shirt on their back. Their stench is noticeable even from a bike path, but to most of us, they’re out of sight and out of mind.

My travels by bus are no less full of curiosities. I’ve found that there are two demographics who primarily ride Santa Clarita city transit buses: car-less teenagers and Latinos, and occasionally the foreign students who attend COC. Their’s is a life of waiting to get from Point A to Point B, often for a half hour or more, followed by what must be a long walk from a bus stop on a major arterial into the heart of Valencia, Northbridge, or Canyon Country.On one trip back home late at night, I found myself quite upset as a young Latino mother boarded the bus with her three year old daughter. It was at least half past ten, and I wondered what mother in her right mind would have her three year old child out at night, that late on a city bus. She boarded in Old Orchard and left the bus at the Newhall Metrolink station, then walked up over the tracks to what I hope was her home.

All these encounters tempt me to go back to the auto-centric lifestyle; to give in, buy a car, and travel in a safe and insulated cage from Point A to Point B.

But then, as I set on my bike to accomplish some task, the question in my mind changes from, “How long will it take for me to get there,” to “What will I discover today on my bike ride?” For better or worse, I’m learning more about the people who call Santa Clarita home when I set out on my bike, and it’s an education I’d never get while in a car.

Which is what made the encounter with the Valencia Siren so sweet.

You have to realize that it was a surprising, almost spiritual, moment. Here we were all alone on a darkened paseo, trying to get home quickly when out of nowhere came this sweet voice and smooth guitar.

She told us her name was “Chelsea,” and that after working her summer job all day, all she wanted to do was play her guitar and sing. She said she often strolled up and down this section of the paseos to practice, and from what we could tell, she was quite good.

Around her neck was an old paisley scarf littered with buttons, one of which said, “Do one thing everyday that scares you.” Her other buttons reflected typical youthful optimism and simultaneous cynicism, but I was encouraged because Chelsea was at least involved and interested in the world beyond her safe, homogenous neighborhood. Here was a teenaged girl more interested in the arts than in getting high on a picnic bench in a darkened park.

When I asked her how old she was, she refused to answer, replying instead, “I’m ageless.”

We had a chuckle, took a photo, and parted ways, but on the rest of the ride home, I realized that having such experiences while travelling was, at least at one time, quite common and “ageless” in a way. Homer’s own Odyssey was interrupted by singing women, and the travels of Marco Polo, Ferdinand Magellan, and countless others are tales of experiences during the journey.

My modest travels to and fro in Santa Clarita aren’t nearly so adventurous, but they’re equally as valuable. So thanks Chelsea and keep practicing!

The amount of emails and posts generated by the back ‘n forth between me and Dave Bossert seems to indicate you folks are having fun with our latest spat. But it’s not the first time we’ve skewered Bossert here on SCVTalk, nor the most famous. Matter of fact, a “news article” I wrote over a year ago about some controversial Dave Bossert comments even got mentioned in the Daily News. Dig in and have fun!

Read the rest of this entry »

The blogger from the West Side has penned yet another mean-spirited assault on columnist Tim Myers, who stopped writing for the West Ranch Beacon after the Signal offered him his old Sunday column back. Posted herein, I tell Bossert to get a life. Read the rest of this entry »

Today’s Signal Opinion page featured several excellent opinion pieces on the hot topics of growth, density, sprawl and even -dare I say it- “small-town cronyism.” For local news geeks like me, it’s an opinion page I’ll save, or perhaps even frame. Read the rest of this entry »

I was dreading and simultaneously looking forward to Saturday. Saturday, you see, was to be the first full day I would be without a car in the Santa Clarita Valley, a place built for the personal automobile.

I was dreading it because I knew getting around the SCV without a personal vehicle would be more difficult.

But I was also excited about the challenge, which promised rich rewards: personal fitness, money savings, and guilt-free movement to and fro.

Can I get it done though? Can I exist in Santa Clarita sans a car, a condition I have not had to endure since I was a pimply-faced 16 year old at Hart High when gas cost only $0.89 per gallon? Let’s see.

The Rules

I’ve created a list of rules for myself that I plan to follow over the course of the next 30 days. They are as follows:

• No personal vehicle usage: This one goes without saying, but it’s important to state it up-front because even though I am officially car-free, my household isn’t. My wife still has a car, but I am forbidding myself from using it for any personal trip to an SCV destination, barring emergencies. Besides, most of the time she’s rolling in the Civic and won’t let me have it.
•  Mobility Options: To travel from Point A to Point B in the SCV, I can use one or more of the following options:
  • Walking: Highly overrated, slow, and inefficient, plus one gets really hot walking in broad daylight in Santa Clarita’s dreadful summers. Nevertheless, a cheap, easy, and very green option
  • Bicycling:Obviously, my preferred option, and the one I’ve been committed to since March when I started biking to work. This mobility option is not only fun, but it gets me in shape and makes my legs look sexy
  • Santa Clarita Transit: The City spends tens of millions on Santa Clarita Transit, but it only costs me a buck to get a ride to just about anywhere in town. Better still, I can combine my bicycle with the bus to create what the military would call a “mobility multiplier.” Bonus: You meet interesting people on the bus, as you shall soon find out.
  • Hitching Rides: This is a tricky option. My overall goal is not only to not use a personal vehicle, but also to not generate any additional personal vehicle trips by others. How this breaks down will be difficult, but if I’m at a place with a friend and he offers a ride home to me, I may take it, depending on how far his final destination is compared with my final destination.
  • Out of town: While I’m comfortable taking the Metrolink train to just about anywhere, and they let bikes on board, the sad fact of the matter is that Metrolink doesn’t go everywhere I need to go. So I will allow myself to use a personal vehicle if I have to leave town to a point not served by rail. Usually, this means the west side of Los Angeles, a place I visit about twice a month. While Santa Clarita Transit does have commuter bus service to the west side, it’s weekend schedule (when I go) is very restricted.

With my rules set and my leased car returned to the dealership, I was ready.

It’s going to be hot. It’s going to be sweaty. I’m going to be hot, sweaty, and yucky. So be it, Game on!

Saturday 5:05 PM

It was a hot Saturday afternoon at home in Newhall when I got a call from my two brothers. I had just finished swimming and was pondering the evening ahead.

Brother #1: “Hey man, want to watch the fight tonight? It’s going to be a big one.” Saturday night was the big UFC Mixed-Martial artist fight, broadcast live on PayPer View from Mandalay Bay.

Me: “Yeah sure, sounds great. Are you having it at your house?”

Brother #1: “No, there were too many people and I don’t have HD. We’re watching it at Wings ‘n Things near Castaic, it’s on Commerce Center drive.”

Me: *Gulp* “Okay, what time does it start?”

Brother #2: “7 pm, and be sure to come becasue we reserved the table!”

Me: “Okay, I’ll be there!”

Excited about this first mobility test, I hopped on the PC to find out where this Wings ‘n Things was and to study my options.

Bad news: Google maps said Wings ‘n Things is 8.9 miles from my house, and the route the software had chosen for me included about 6 miles on Interstate 5. Six miles on I-5 at 20mph on my bike? I don’t think so.

Even if I changed the routing to allow me to travel on surface streets, my options didn’t look to good. Whichever way I cut it, I was facing an 11 mile ride on such SCV superhighways as Newhall Ranch Road, Valencia Blvd, Highway 126, and more. These are not bicycle-friendly roads in the City, and I hadn’t even considered how cycling-unfriendly the unincorporated County territory was, but all this didn’t deter me.

The Bus!

I realized quickly that for me to get to Wings ‘n Things by 7pm, I had better skedaddle. Life without a personal vehicle in the SCV is a time-consuming affair, but the way I figure it, I either pay to transport myself with time or money. Having used money for decades, I’ve decided now that my time was worth it.

I thought about just taking the bus to my final destination and walking or riding to the restaurant. I checked my SCT timetable and realized I’d have to transfer once at the McBean Transfer station and that my total trip time would be about and hour and a half to get from Newhall to Castaic. That just won’t work; I require beer, sustenance and camraderie, and I can’t be late to the fight.

So, with an eye towards the Saturday schedule of the #1/2 route (Travels from Canyon Country to Castaic/Val Verde) at the McBean Transfer station, I left Newhall on my bike at 5:40pm, travelling on Orchard Village, the South Fork Trail, and finally the streets of Valencia until I reached the McBean Transfer station.

6:02 pm

Some 4.8 miles and 22 minutes later, I pulled up at the McBean Transfer station all hot and sticky but thrilled. I had made it in time to board the #2 bus outbound to Val Verde, which was to leave the station at 6:15 pm.

I loaded my bike on the bus quickly (it was early by the way),  boarded, sat down and took a long swig on my water bottle. It must have been about 100 degrees outside, but the inside of this comfortable Gillig Phantom bus was a cool 75.

Two minutes later, the bus driver’s radio crackled.

“Hey, just an FYI, that elderly woman who sings and curses is going to board your bus. She’s done shopping and is on her way home.”

My bus driver grimaced. Both he and the other driver apparently knew whoever this woman was.

As I impatiently waited for the bus to get underway (it was by now 50 minutes until the fight started), I looked around the bus to see who my fellow travellers were.

There were at least six young Latinos, plus a Latino man in his 20s or 30s who looked like he came straight out of some 1990s gangster film. He looked imiposing in his wife-beater shirt, Virgin Mary and Mexican tattoos, Pancho Villa-esque mustache and hardened look.

Then she came.

Smelling of sweat,  pork and some other unsavory aromas, a large, round elderly black woman with a pink summer dress and a sweaty head scarf waddled up the stairs on to the bus. I imagined that she must live in Val Verde and just finished browsing the mall.

She seemed friendly at first, looking to the driver then me, then all the passengers and asked each of us, in rapid succession,  if we wanted any peaches.

No one took her up on the offer.

After she sat, we finally departed at 6:15 on the button. The second leg of my car-free trip began.

On the Bus

Fortunately, my bus ride seemed faster than it was. I suppose that’s due to the fact that few people were on the route waiting to be picked up.

But then the old black woman started singing about Jesus.

“Jesus wants to help out, tell him what you want. Jesus wants to help out, tell ‘im what you want. Call ‘em up and tell ‘em what you want…”

over and over and over again she sang the chorus to this heretofore unknown Gospel medley, all the way from McBean & Creekside to Highway 126, when the driver, out of frustration, slapped the plastic dividing panel between him and the passengers and said, quite to the point said, “Ma’am, please stop singing that.” To which the elderly black woman replied:

“Whatsa’ mattah? You don’t believe in Jesus? Well fuck you then. I’ll believe in Jesus all I want.”

She then broke out into rants about Mexicans, blacks, and “whitey.”

It was all I could do not to bust up laughing at the old crazy woman. Of course I felt bad for her at the same time, but she seemed to be getting along just fine without my pity.

Destination: County Territory & Highway 126

I considered taking the bus trip all the way out to Val Verde then swinging back around on Commerce, but by now it was around 6:35, so I decided to get off at the stop at Highway 126 and Commerce Center drive. As I exited, the elderly black woman said Jesus told her that I should wear a baseball helmet, not a bicycle helmet. I said thanks, departed the bus, unloaded my bike, and gave a thumbs-up to the driver.

Once I had my bike on the ground, I examined the bus stop. It certainly wasn’t bicycling, let alone, pedestrian friendly. I was standing in some loose gravel, broken bottles all around. An open condom wrapper laid near an over-flowing trash can, and the two dilapidated bus benches were covered in spider webs, gum, and sticky material. Just a scant few feet to my left cars blew by at around 60mph, beyond them lay the beautiful hills behind Magic Mountain.

If this was the bus stop used by workers in the Commerce Center, I immediately felt bad for them.

But there wasn’t much time left. So I hopped on my bike and pedaled up Commerce Center drive, a massive six lane roadway with no sidewalk and no bike lane. I felt naked and exposed, unsafe on this massive roadway, but since this was a Saturday, only a few cars passed by.

Finally, Wings ‘n Things

At 6:46 precisely, I rolled onto an ocean-sized parking lot in front of Wings ‘n Things.  I had never visited this shopping center before, yet it was instantly recognizable to me. Not only was there an ocean of parking spaces, but there were year old trees all around, zero shade, and, most importantly to me, zero places to lock my bike.

“Thanks County of LA for not requiring the developer to at least put in one decent bike rack”, I muttered as I locked my bike to a tree.

This shopping center (surely named Canyons Plaza, Hasley Hills Square, Castaic Village, Rancho Del Valle Marketplace or some other such name) was surrounded on all sides by massive, window-less concrete buildings, themselves surrounded by acres of parking lots. On the hill above the center were some standard SCV homes built on what probably used to be a nice looking ridgeline.

The shopping center itself was strangely vacant; commercial real estate signs, rather than business names, dotted the windows as far as I could see.

My trip complete, I went into Wings ‘n Things, drank some beer, enjoyed the food, and cheered during the fight. All in all, the food was decent and the sports bar atmosphere was great. From there, I hitched a ride with my brother to BJ’s (his final destination), then rode home from there at midnight on the South Fork.

By the Numbers:

So for those of you keeping track, my first day without a car was time-consuming but interesting. I’ll break this trip down in comparison to what it would have cost me with my personal vehicle.

Sure it took much more time, but I spent less money, got a good workout, and got to see how the other half of the SCV lives and what they’re greeted with when they take public transit. That’s a priceless education right there.

Be sure to tune in next Friday for another Living Car Free in the SCV Adventure. Hint: I’ll be biking to various AT&T stores to see if I can score an iPhone.

Usually it’s hard to spot politicians influence peddling in Western Democracies. It’s either very subtle and difficult to detect, it’s masked by slick PR reps who can bend and twist damning facts into happy sounding statements, or it requires congressional investigations or court hearings determined to ferret out the truth.

Not so in Santa Clarita.

I was shocked -yes shocked with italics- when I glanced at Katie Geyer’s Friday story on one of the Parks Commission applicants  and her working relationship with Mayor Pro Tem Frank Ferry. I was so shocked I chuckled, in fact.

Let’s review all the facts here, because none of them are in dispute.

Janell Cornell, the applicant, works by day as Principal Frank Ferry’s personal secretary at Bishop Alemany High School in the San Fernando Valley. She’s one of 13 people interested in serving as a commissioner on the City’s influential and important Parks, Recreation and Community Services commission, an appointed group of citizens charged with advising “the City Council in all matters pertaining to parks and public recreation” and cooperating “with other governmental agencies and civic groups in the advancement of sound park and recreation planning and programming.”

We’re not told how Mrs. Cornell decided to apply for the panel, but obviously, the fact that Mayor Pro Tem Frank Ferry works everyday with Mrs. Cornell is enough to raise eyebrows. But Ferry says we shouldn’t worry.

“It means nothing,” he told The Signal. “Whoever I appoint just does their job and I stay totally out of it,” Ferry says.

Come again Mr. Ferry?

Do you seriously expect  us to believe that you’ll stay “totally out of” the city’s parks business in your day to day working relationship with Mrs. Cornell if you appoint her? We’re to believe that your employer/employee working relationship amounts to “nothing” when it comes to City business? We’re just supposed to trust that you won’t use your position of advantage over Mrs. Cornell to influence her decisions on the Commission?

Do you think we were born yesterday Mr Ferry?

It’s glaringly obvious to anyone that Mrs. Cornell, should she be appointed to the panel, would serve two incompatible masters: on the one hand, she’d be working for the Public via the City Council in her capacity as a Parks Commissioner, but by day she’d be working for a paycheck for a single member of the City Council.

This entire scenario strikes me as one that would likely occur in a Banana Republic, not in Santa Clarita, but a review of Ferry’s recent history shows I shouldn’t have been so shocked on Friday morning as I headed out to the parade.

In May, Ferry admitted ipso facto to violating election code when he spent some $12,000 to send mailers out advising residents to vote for Bob Kellar and Laurie Ender for City Council. State election code specifically forbids current elected officials to “make independent expenditures through their controlled committee to support or oppose another candidate.”

To that violation, Ferry pleaded ignorant, sounding very similar to his quotes in Friday’s story. “I’m not hiding anything. There was no intent. I didn’t think twice,” about the FPPC rules, of which, Ferry complained, “there are so many.”

Those troublesome rules, both the ones in writing and the unwritten conflict-of-interest ones, exist in Democracy to ensure accountability, transparency and fairness. Yes democracy -whether on the national or local level- is sloppy, inefficient and slow, but it’s that way by design to ensure that people like Frank Ferry can’t manipulate government.

So as the Council convenes tomorrow to discuss the applicants, I’ll be  watching this one closely, and I suspect a number of eagle-eyed City residents will show up to ensure this doesn’t come to pass.

When I started this blog over two years ago, the first article I ever published was titled, “Is Santa Clarita still a bedroom community?” In that article, I wondered if Santa Clarita had progressed beyond the derisive title of “bedroom community,” considering that so many companies had moved to our valley in recent years and that residents truly had local employment opportunities. That was way back in March of 2006.

And boy have times changed…or have they? Today that term “bedroom community” is enjoying something of a rebirth in the local chattering classes. Not only is it being used to describe what Santa Clarita is today, but it’s a title some in the community actually seem to be proud of.

“Our Neighborhoods are under seige,” the YouTuber named “Frankenferry” breathlessly writes in one video under the cloak and safety of anonymity. “Our existing general plan, created decades ago, served to create and protect our Suburban Bedroom Community,” he/she says in another video.

And then in blog posts and at City Council meetings or in Letters to the Editor, this term “bedroom community” is being bandied about, as if it’s not only an accurate description of Santa Clarita, but something to be proud of, something to protect.

Fundamentally, I couldn’t disagree more. The idea of Santa Clarita as a “bedroom community” has never been something I’ve been proud of. I have always considered it an insult. This city is not just a place I come to lay my head when I’m done doing important things elsewhere. It’s not the place I close my eyes to when the day is over, safe in my bed. It’s not a place I experience primarily while asleep.

No, Santa Clarita is something way beyond the derisive and insulting descriptor of “bedroom community” for me. Santa Clarita is the place where I grew up, where I graduated high school, learned to drive, bought my first house, got married, etc. It’s a place I love to explore, to talk about, to write about, and occasionally, to make an impact on.

So what explains this discrepancy? We all live in the same valley, we see the same news, we go to the same council meetings, why the different perception of what Santa Clarita is and ought to be?

To some degree, I think there is a generational difference at play here. Many of the people I see endlessly complaining about the San Fernando Valley-ization of the SCV or Ken Pulskamp’s alleged comments about urbanization are, frankly, older than me. They’re my parents age. Some in their 40s, some in their 50s, 60s, and even 70s. They moved, no escaped is a better word, to Santa Clarita long ago, in the 1960s or 1970s or 1980s in order to avoid the problems they say they lived through in the terrible San Fernando Valley.

Their original motivation for moving to Santa Clarita was that it was, back then, a sleepy bedroom community of like-minded people.

Their entire perspective on what Santa Clarita is and what it ought to be is completely different from mine and many of my friends who not only grew up in this valley but have chosen to make our homes and lives here. I can’t possibly relate to their hatred of the SFV or what it represents since I’ve never lived there, nor have I experienced the problems they routinely cite.

That’s not to discount their worries about crime, runaway and poorly-planned growth, or any of the other issues in SFV. But the fact that they moved here from supposed bad places doesn’t give them any more qualifications to speak about Santa Clarita than people like me, who grew up here.

Likewise,  I would argue that some believe their financial interests are tied into the idea of Santa Clarita being a bedroom community. These folks don’t view mass transit as an asset to a city; they view it -and its users- as a liability to their personal property. They refuse to see past their own personal financial interests when considering a denser project that might include high-rises yet have less of an impact on open space. They don’t want denser projects built near their ranch-style homes -as is the case in Placerita Canyon and the North Newhall Specific Plan- because they say the city promised 20 years ago to protect their “rural” (left unspoken is affluent) lifestyle.

Hence their acceptance and defense of the idea of Santa Clarita as a “bedroom community.” They believe they have their personal financial fortunes at stake, so they naturally defend the status quo and attack anyone who even hints at a different future.

And future is what all this about, is it not? We all know the predictions that Santa Clarita may someday be home to twice as many people as it is now.  The question everyone is talking about and the City and County are addressing specifically is what will Santa Clarita, population 450,000, look like?

Will our hillsides be devoured by more single family home developments the way Stevenson Ranch was built out in the 90s?  Will the pattern of life the bedroom community proponents defend be the pattern we use to double the population in Santa Clarita? Will Santa Clarita in 2050 be a 300 square mile city of gigantic ten lane arterials with thousands of cul-de-sac streets?

To some extent, Santa Clarita 2050 will be shaped by forces way beyond the residents of this valley or even the big bad Mr. City Manager’s control.  As I have relayed in my Daily Briefs, many think the “bedroom community” way of life is obsolete, made impractical and almost impossible by sky-high energy prices and the reality of global climate change. Alarmists, however, are a dime a dozen these days, so I take a more reasonable approach.

The future of Santa Clarita is not black and white. It’s not Ken Pulskamp’s supposed “Urban Center” vs. FrankenFerry’s “Bedroom Community.” It’s not a simplistic debate about either vs or. Rather, it’s possible that we can build a community that has both the best elements of an urban city (two jobs per household, good mobility options,  its own distinct culture and entertainment, and yes, density) while retaining some of that bedroom community feel that attracted many people in the first place.

As a younger person in Santa Clarita, this is what I expect of my city. I have a voice too, I am one of “We the People” as are my friends, colleagues and fellow 20-30 somethings stakeholders who call this place home. I want it to expand and more importantly evolve into something beyond a “bedroom community”  and if that means I’m going to be known as a stooge for the city, then so be it.

Secretly, transit officials all across the country have to be celebrating each time a station attendant increases the price on a gas station sign. Click read more to find out why. Read the rest of this entry »