I SAY for…30 January 2009

          The President’s stimulus package will be eagerly received at our local level. Apparently he is devoting enough money to “construction” to create 678,000 jobs. I would think “re-construction” might serve us better. Fixing things like bridges would be a good investment. And roads. Have you noticed how the tar industry has prospered over the years? Whenever cracks appear in pavement, hot tar is dripped into the crevices rough ride; at least we can get to the church on time. The rough ride is acerbated when driving a pickup with a firm suspension system and tires fully inflated. Therefore a timely stimulus package devoted to road repair would certainly be appreciated. But sources say this type of package is “a frustrating inexact science. Nobody knows precisely what it will do in the short term, and, in the long term, it isn’t that different from any other government spending. It is impossible to stimulate everyone equally. The first round of the financial bailout will probably be psychological …the calming of markets by sending a message of government engagement”. Or so says TIME magazine.

          My thought is that we probably should not be stimulated equally. When was the last time you were stimulated? It was a good feeling right?…particularly if you felt the stimulus was not shared by all…that you had been singled out for your own, personal stimulation. You probably walked around the rest of the day with a smug look on your face, your confidence had been restored and all was right with the world.

          Noble Obama (my sobriquet for our stalwart new President), please start your selective stimuli.

• * * * *

Clever writer Lee Pitts writes, in Farm Bureau News, of 10 reasons

for wearing cowboy boots.  I don’t wear them, but a couple of his reasons verified my long held suspicions.

Boots are a status symbol in that other people associate the

wearer with a higher class of people like truck drivers and cow buyers and not like soft shoe wearers such as investment bankers and CEOs of a failed Fortune 500 company… or the Treasury Secretary. Boots hide your ugly feet, and you don’t have to tie cowboy boots. However, I believe, as does Lee, that the number one reason folks wear cowboy boots is that they make the wearer look taller.

 We rest our case, if not our feet.

• * * * * * *

 Animal trainers know that you can’t teach a cat by verbal

command alone. Their tiny brains do not process voice instructions. But cats will respond and perform to the sound of a clicker. I have no cat to teach so I can’t verify the success of the clicker system. But wouldn’t it be cool if you came home with a guest, and upon entering clicked your cat to do a back flip or wave a little flag or something? Your guest would be amazed and you and your cat would be the life of the party at your next family gathering.

• * * * * *

On the first day of school, the kindergarten teacher said, “If anyone

 has to go to the bathroom, hold up two fingers.”

          A little voice from the rear of the room asked, “How will that

help?”

                                 * * * * * * *

Last week’s quiz was answered quickly and smartly by J & L

 Darling. The plaque on the moon reads, “Here men from the planet Earth first set foot upon the moon July 1969 AD. We came in peace for all mankind.” JC Dithers was Dagwood Bumstead’s boss, and Winnie the Poo’s house in the wood had a sign reading “Sanders”, but author Milne never said where that came from.

          This week’s quiz: name the left handed Presidents of the United

 States.

• * * * * * **

If dealing with the press corps is, at times, too risky, politicians

 have found ways to circumvent them and still get out their message, Whereas Dick Cheney would call Rush Limbaugh, our new President posts weekly addresses on You Tube, which are succinct and not easily misunderstood. Clever fellow, Noble Obama

• * * * *

Ever since Edgar graduated from high school, he spent most of his

 waking hours lounging on the couch, watching sports on television and drinking beer. One day, as he reached for a beer, he fell off the couch and hit his head so severely he had to be rushed to the hospital. After x rays were taken, the doctor came to his bedside and said, “I’m sorry to have to tell you I have good news bad news. The X rays show you have broken a vertebra in your neck…and you will never work again!”

          Edgar said, “Thanks, doc…but what’s the bad news?”

OUR STORY SO FAR…”

The principle players: Proberta Gerber, a country western singer presumed missing,  Grimes Arbuckle, Private Eye, Maxwell Williams, sleazy lawyer, Buttonwillow (”the Button”) McKindrick, rival songbird, Skyway Cummings, former stunt man, and an assortment of contrived California byways.

            Arbuckle reports that Ms. Gerber stands to inherit millions as heiress to the Humdinger Diamond cartel.  An anonymous source claims the singer was last sighted on the Sundial Bridge with homeless vagrant Artois “Frenchy” Gulch. Sometime later, fisherman Girvan McCloud hooked what he thought was a large Green Sturgeon, but his story is suspect for the fish is thought to be extinct. DNA analysis is underway to determine if the carcass is human, fish or fowl. Fingerprints were not available as the carcass had no hands. Besides, fingerprinting has been shown to be an inexact science in the North state.

This just in from the California Highway Patrol website: An ancient Winnebago was found abandoned on the I-5 Freeway south of Redding. Registration shows the owners to be Ed and Bambi Whompdocker of Gault. This information is apparently not germane to the missing heiress case. Please disregard.

And yet, take note, bricks are still available???

WE SAID: July 1985

            (Ed. Note: Here follows a rather fanciful conversation between the late State Senator D. Jack Metzger and myself as published in the Corning Daily Observer. See PASSING PARADE for detail of his  life and times.)

            I was walking along Washington Street one morning in July 1939, and so engrossed in the beauty of the Victorian houses that I actually bumped into Senator Jack Metzger. He was wearing his usual white suit, but, on that hot morning, had the sense to leave his vest behind. I knew the Senator well because he and my father were great friends, although father knew the Senator, like all politicians, was not as pure as the driven snow. But he also knew that Jack could get things done for our County. He had clout in Sacramento.

            The Senator said he was on his way to the Court House to give the Supervisors a piece of his mind…and if I would walk with him a spell, he would tell me a few things…man to man. As I was 10 at the time, I was all ears.

            He said we would be at war with Germany in a year or two, and though millions would suffer and die, the war would create jobs which would lead us out of the depression. It would also prove we were the greatest nation on earth. He looked very proud when he said that. I said that I thought President Roosevelt was already leading us out of the depression, but the Senator replied, “That’s what a lot of people think…but he needs this war to get the economy humming again. So far, all he has created is a country verging on socialism.”

            We were now on Jefferson Street, and as he was not due at the Court House for a half an hour, he suggested we sit on the Herbert Kraft Library steps. He carefully spread a handkerchief, we sat and he continued his lecture. “This country is great because the right collection of men wrote the Constitution. It was just like creating life with a bolt of lightning hitting the ocean…that’s how life first started, you know.” I nodded an assent. “It was a fortunate blend of brains and experience that caused that great document to be written and we have had freedom for over 200 years. Freedom breeds prosperity, so we are the most prosperous nation on earth. You should never forget that, regardless of the tough times ahead. You will hear the doomsday crowd crying the world is coming to an end and that America has lost her will and all such drivel…but it is not true, and it will never be true because this country has the right mix…the right moxie.”

            The Senator had worked himself into a quite a state of euphoria. “Too bad the 4^th has come and gone,” I said. “You could have made a great speech out at the cemetery.”

            He laughed, looked about to see if anyone had witnessed his fervor, and then said, “Well, I wasn’t asked…but, as you can see, I was ready! Anyhow, good to talk to you, my boy. Give my regards to your father and your lovely mother.”

            He rose from the library steps and headed grandly away into the early morning sun. I called out a final question: “How long do you think this country will remain great?”

            He paused, turned back for a moment and then said, “Well, as long as we have…as long as we have a great library like the Kraft, here. Just look how solid it is…all that massive stone, all those books just waiting to be read. Yes sir, those things last forever!”

THE PASSING PARADE for…30 January 2009

          D. Jack Metzger’s (1888-1951) life was a rags to riches to rags saga. Born in Ohio, and losing both parents at an early age, he traveled to  California where he eventually earned enough money to buy 100,000 head of sheep at a time when the industry was decimated by disease, and managed to sell his healthy flock for a considerable sum, setting the stage for investments in cattle and real estate. By 1925 he was a prominent businessman in Tehama County and serving as Mayor of Red Bluff. Despite the City Council’s veto of his plans to oil the graveled streets, he ordered a tank car of oil. When Southern Pacific demanded payment, he paid for the oil out of his own pocket. Later the Council saw the wisdom of his action and re-reimbursed him.

Mr. Metzger, during the 20’s and 30’s, owned the southwest corner of Main and Oak, site of the Kennett Dam Café and the Red Bluff Creamery, 632 Main, site of Minch’s Market, 648 Main, home of the Blue Ribbon Café and Bar, and 641 Main, a two story building which doubled as his office and residence with his 3^rd wife, the former Constance Risse.  

          In 1934 he made a successful run for State Senator and was elected for a 2^nd term in 1938. During these years he sponsored many worthwhile projects for northern California such as the Central Valley Project. In 1939 he presented a prescient resolution to halt the sale of scrap metal to Japan. To spur city growth, he lobbied the California Highway Department to include “Red Bluff” on every existing highway sign going north from the capitol.

During the early 1940’s, Senator Metzger and his wife spent considerable time in Southern California where he became enamored with race horses which may have hastened his decline in wealth and prestige. After a failed attempt for a 3^rd term, he retired to Red Bluff and soon thereafter was embroiled in a costly divorce from Constance. She was awarded the 641 residence. Years later, when my firm sold the property for the widow, we found a Bill of Sale from MGM mogul Louis B. Mayer for the purchase of one of Mayer’s race horses.

After his messy divorce, Metzger married for a fourth time, and when his fortune and health began to deteriorate, was reduced to living in a trailer south of town.  When my father, who had been a long time friend of Metzger’s, learned Jack had been admitted to St. Elizabeth Hospital and was without funds, he instructed Sister Columba to give father the bill.

          D.J.Metzger died May 30, 1959 and was buried in Oak Hill Cemetery. The only graveside mourners were his two former business managers, Joe Soares and Jack Dryselt, Dr.R.G. Frey, and Dave Minch.

I SAY for…23 January 2009

          When in a pinch (no pun intended) it is best to have the Sheriff on your side. I recently found myself a recipient of Sheriff C. Parker’s largess when the Justice Department…and the FBI, were ignoring my pleas for fingerprint acceptance. I shall explain.

          Even though I have been a Notary Public for over 30 years, the Secretary of State, abetted by Homeland Security, decided that all Notaries, regardless of age, or time in grade, will be required, upon renewal of their license, to take a test, submit a “passport” photo, and a series of fingerprints… the Sheriff’s office being given the fingerprinting task.

          I passed the test, stopped by the local AAA office for an official passport photo even though I have no plans to travel further than Redding at the moment. I then appeared before Officer S. Leitem at the Sheriff’s office for printing which is easier said than done. The officer operates a machine that records every impression you make. I don’t mean the impression one makes when standing before the Sheriff. That impression is hopefully one of a respectable elderly person with no pony tail and a distinct aversion to firearms of all kinds. But…I digress.

          Officer Leitem takes hold of your hand and places finger after finger and then your full palm on the glass of the machine. The machine will register “accepted” or “rejected”. My prints were often rejected. I asked why. She replied, “Your hands are as dry as your wit (I added that last part…she just said ‘dry’)” She then poured some wetting agent on my hands and we tried again. This time we got more acceptance but also some rejection. After several more attempts she sent my prints to the Justice Department  hoping they would be accepted. I left the premises secure in the belief that I had satisfied the powers that be…but that was not the case.

After a week or so, and many phone calls later, I was informed the prints were not satisfactory, and I would have to take them again. I did, but the results were as before with some prints rejected knowing my license would expire within weeks, I asked for help.

          The help came in the form of Sheriff Parker himself who said, although it was out of his jurisdiction, he would make some calls to see if the process could be speeded up.  I thanked him and walked out into the bright sunshine of a winter’s day feeling like I was still under scrutiny. Thankfully, I was in the hands of a sympathetic County official not running for re-election and looking for a cause celebre.

          To be continued.

                                             * * * * *

          The Consumer Price Index for All Urban Consumers, U.S. City Average, has, for the first time in my memory, posted a minus 1.0. This index is what we use when writing leases to ensure landlords are not getting paid with cheaper dollars as the years of the lease roll by. This is good news for tenants…and probably the general public as well, because goods and services should become more affordable in these perilous times.

• * * * * *

Department of Domestic Dispute:

          In the driveway, the missus, in her town car, pulls up alongside my pickup. She is arriving from the grocery store and I am heading back to the office after lunch. I announce, “We finally put together that new lease, and it required a lot of give and take by all parties. ”

          The missus replies, “You have bird poop on the side of your pickup.”

          Momentarily taken aback I respond, “Whhhhat?”I’m telling you of an important leasing event…and you talk bird poop?”

          “Get rid of it. You can’t be driving around town with that on your pickup. I bet Ken Robison and Richard Henley don’t drive around with bird poop on their cars.  Get rid of it.”

          Rats! I drive a pickup. It is our company car as well as our ranch pickup. I am a triple threat person as rancher, real estate broker and writer of blogs. I must be all things to all people. The bird poop stays…at least until the weekend when I can get time to wash it off.

          I bet President Obama’s wife does not order him around like this. Besides, if his official limo gets a direct hit by a bird, the Secret Service would be wet towel at the ready. I have no such back up.  

                 ** * * * * *

          Last week’s quiz was answered once again by a plethora of players who knew Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy was alternately a nurse or housekeeper for Uncle Wiggily, Sleeping Beauty slept for one hundred years, and school teacher Scopes in the famous “Monkey Trial” was fined $100.00 .

          This week’s quiz: The crew of Apollo 11placed a plaque on the moon. What was written on it? Who was J.C. Dithers? What was the name over the door of Winnie-the-Pooh’s house?

• * * * * *

          An Italian, a Spaniard and a Jew were about to be executed. Each was asked what he wanted for his last meal. The Italian asked for pizza, ate it and was executed. The Spaniard asked for paella, ate it and was also executed. The Jew asked for fresh strawberries. When told they were out of season, he replied, “Then I’ll wait.”

THE PASSING PARADE for 23 January 2009

          During the early 1940’s, during WWII, my father convinced a recently widowed carpenter, to leave his home in New Jersey, and accompanied by his motherless son,  to come to Red Bluff  by offering him the job of Maintenance Superintendent at our old meat plant. The title wasn’t all that accurate. As we had no one to repair things about the plant, Carmen Rutala, Sr. developed his own job description as he went along.

          He could build or repair anything… and invent anything needed to make the plant run smoothly. When the plant burned to the ground in 1945,  plans were drawn for a new modern plant to arise from the ashes. Carmen came up with the idea of a winding concrete chute from the corrals to the plant door to encourage the animals to move forward. He designed a drop rail that spiraled down into the hot water tank used for scalding hog carcass. This protected workers, on a stand around the tank, from the scalding tank water while they scraped the hair from the hogs (hogs being processed with hide on as opposed to cattle with the hide off). He also invented a complicated but effective rail switching device enabling cooler workers to move carcass on trolleys from one line to another. This, and many more devices, established him as our plant genius who kept the plant running 24/7. There was never a chair in his shop, which suggested he was on his feet the entire work day.

          He was a short stocky man with a dark complexion who whistled softly and tuneless as he worked. He eventually married again, and he and Pauline produced the child prodigy Paul Joe, who later became a prominent doctor.

          Carmen was an unusually taciturn fellow, and the only time I ever saw him upset was when, after he returned from a short vacation, he discovered that I had sold all the rusting parts and pieces of discarded equipment alongside the plant, to a junk dealer. He said to me, with eyes flashing, “I was using those parts to repair things!”I apologized and promised not to do it again.

          A singular and very talented person was Carmen Rutala, Sr.

WE SAID: July 1976

          Because the missus thought my last column didn’t have much to say, I would like to come out of my political closet and give readers the benefit of my Presidential profundity. After all, I too was a President…once.

          I haven’t the foggiest idea as to what Jimmy Carter is. Granted he is an orthodontist dream, but besides that, he is hard to peg; to catalogue. It is said that he is conservative with the conservatives, and liberal with the liberals. The main difference between Carter and Junior Brown (Jerry Brown), is that the former says a great deal without saying anything pertinent…and the young Governor of California is evasive and inactive, i.e. answers questions with a question. And before leaving the subject of the Honorable Brown, I am suspicious of those who have to go somewhere to meditate. If you can’t get it on in your own backyard, then the rest is just window dressing.

          Back to J. Carter. He will be hard to beat. Any democrat would be hard to beat and Mr. Carter has the momentum. President Ford is a likeable guy. If we just needed a likeable guy he would win in a walk. But the office cries out for a man of great imagination, determination and fortitude. A man that won’t push the button…but will stand up to any type of blackmail that terrorists may come up with. In other words, we don’t buy the idea that just because we are the biggest and the best, we should feel guilty of our way of life.

          So, if the Republicans are going to run with the incumbent, they must come up with a blockbuster of an idea for Vice President. And the idea can be either a black person…or a woman. With that slate they can win…and without it, goodbye Republicans for the next 8 years. Remember, you read it here. If I’m wrong, then disregard previous telegram.

Robert Minch writing in the Corning Daily Observer

OUR STORY SO FAR…”

(Editor’s Note: Cousin B. Kelsey of Burlingame was tooling up I-5 one day when he spotted the “Proberta Gerber” off ramp…and the game was afoot!)

Country Western singing sensation Proberta Gerber is missing. Foul play is suspected. Private Eye Grimes Arbuckle has been hired to find her.  Shyster lawyer Maxwell Williams isn’t talking. Rival songbird Buttonwillow McKendrick’s lips are sealed. Ms. Gerber’s personal trainer, Zamora Esparto, has fled to his native Mexico. What does this mean?

A Manton source has revealed, under the seal of the confessional, that Buttonwillow’s agent, Chico Anderson, has been booking “The Button”, a name she developed after Madonna went single, into all the swank rooms that canceled Ms. Gerber when she failed to show with her overweight opening act, “The Clydesdales”. Opening for “The Button” are the famous bluegrass duo Chester Redding and Quincy Davis.

While Grimes Arbuckle is searching for Ms. Gerber, another Private Eye and former stunt man Cummings Skyway has surfaced, and apparently on the scent.

The scent, a combination of the exotic Ono and Igo plants, reputedly acts as a stimulant for the Clydesdale troop during their ponderous act, but the efficacy of the plants has been discounted by all except the California Chiropractic League.

Arbuckle, who occasionally goes by the alias Pierce Albany, alleges Proberta Gerber is destined to inherit a large fortune, and therefore has been kidnapped, though no ransom demands have been received…so far.

Reader reaction and participation will be duly noted and reluctantly tolerated.

To Be Continued, we fear….

I SAY for…16 January 2009

          The song “My Favorite Things” comes to mind. We seldom articulate these “things” to others, but they are stored in the priority recesses of our minds. The warmth of a fireplace and a roof over our heads on a cold rainy night, a hot meal…and a soft bed after a stressful day usually appear on our short list. They are a given to most of us, but not the homeless, whose every waking hour is consumed by a quest for food and shelter.  I wrote last week of the dearth of City and County controversy, and therefore chalked it up to Councilmen and Supervisors apparently doing a good job. My pronouncement was premature. Until these august bodies find a shelter…a home for the homeless, they will get no blanket approval from this quarter. You may be certain they will protest it is not their job to provide a shelter. This is a cop out. All people in the city and county are in their domain, and deserve to be protected.

Our public guidance officials now leave it to others to scurry about looking for a suitable site only to inform them that the site is non-conforming, improperly zoned or inappropriately located. Why don’t these zoning zealots appoint a joint powers committee to find a suitable site…and then work to see it to fruition?

 It is easier to shut a door than to widen it. Tsk, tsk.

• * * * * *

In past exercises, I’ve used the expressions “wistful thinking” and “wishful thinking” interchangeably. That is not correct. The use of the former should be used when one has high hopes i.e. “If only I could sight read music like John Gonsalves”. The latter is more my cup of tea. “Remembrance of Things Past” is not solely the exclusive territory of Marcel Proust. Living long is license for a plethora of wistful thinking. It is a cheap pastime which exudes no noxious gases, destroys no forests and does not put the State further in debt. Here are a couple of examples of how it works:

I stand at the entrance of the Belle Mill Landing shopping center…just past Antelope Veterinary Hospital. Stepping out of the traffic lanes, I face east and close my eyes. Instead of a freeway, I see a long concrete causeway stretching into the distance. In the flood times of my youth, it was the only connector between the river bridge and the homes, orchards and farms of Antelope valley. I have wistfully created that visage.

I stand at the southwest corner of Main and Oak. Once again, with eyes closed, the Shell Service Station is at my back. Directly east, Durwood Lakin is servicing a car at his “Flying A” Associated Station. I marvel at how rapidly he works for he is wearing a built up boot on one foot as one leg is shorter than the other.  I turn my head slightly north and See Frank Falls entering his “Frank’s Creamery” and wistfully think “If only I could sit at his counter once again and have one last chocolate milkshake”.

The missus is right. It doesn’t take much to make me happy.

• * * * * *

Speaking of wistful, are you old enough to recall the radio comedy show, “Fibber McGee and Molly”? It ran from the depths of the depression in 1935 to 1959 and the stars were Jim and Marian Jordan. What was the name of their street? 79 Wistful Vista Lane. How about that!

                                  * * * * **

This week’s balmy 70 degree weather was nearly enough to forget that the country is in the financial doldrums. If it is true that sunshine enhances our mood and outlook, let us hope President elect Obama has a sunny day for his inaugural.

                                 * * * * * * *

Last week’s quiz was answered by L. Merry, J.Angelo and L & J Darling who knew that the drink of the God’s was Nectar or Ambrosia; New Hampshire, Vermont, Rhode Island, Maine, Connecticut and Massachusetts are known as the New England states… and the motto of the New York Times is “All the news that’s fit to print”.

This week’s quiz: Who was Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy, how long did Sleeping Beauty sleep…and what amount was school teacher Scopes fined?

• * * * **

Our story so far: Country Western singer Proberta Gerber is missing. Private eye Grimes Arbuckle has been hired to find her. Shyster attorney Maxwell Williams isn’t talking.  Rival singer Buttonwillow McKendrick’s lips are sealed. This just in: Ms. Gerber’s personal trainer, Zamora Esparto, has fled to his native Mexico.  What does this mean? Do we care?

• * * * * * *

Two gas company servicemen were checking meters in a neighborhood. At their last house, a lady watched them through the window. When they had finished, the youngest man challenged the oldest to a foot race back to their truck parked down the street. As they ran to the truck, they were surprised to find the woman huffing and puffing right behind them. “What’s wrong? they shouted.

She gasped, “When I saw two gas men running hard…I figured I’d better run too!”

THE PASSING PARADE for 16 January 2009

            Long time local broker, Richard Dopkins, created Western Land & Timber Sales, Inc. in 1966, but Dick is not the subject for this week’s Parade section as he is still with us and in good health. His uncle, John Wheeler (1918-1988), takes center stage today as he did in life years ago.

            John was Dopkin’s uncle, and Dick named his corporation because he was John’s broker for many timber transactions when Wheeler Logging was in full flower.  Dick’s real estate business took off and he created many Tehama County subdivisions in behalf of his clients i.e. Red Bluff Northwest and the Tabor property, both located on the west and the east of Jellys Ferry off ramp. In the late 70’s Dick and I became partners. We eventually parted company and I continued as Western Real Estate, while he opened a successful residential office as Dopkins Realty in the 200 block of Main. But…back to Uncle John.

            John was a major factor in Tehama County’s economy for many years. He was a civic leader and, in addition, created the Red Bluff Arabian Horse Show which is still with us today. Whereas John was a prominent figure, well known all over the state, William T. Dalby was not. Bill was the manager of the telephone company once housed in the old Tremont Hotel and a self imposed mentor of mine when I took over the reins of our family owned Wholesale Meat plant in 1964. He knew I had spent most of my time there as a blue collar employee…and not as a Captain of Industry like my father. Bill took it upon himself to introduce me to local movers and shakers in the community such as Bud Jones of Diamond Match, but first he wanted me to meet the impressive John Wheeler. He knew John favored breakfast at the Airport Café, so he set up an early morning meeting.  It was rather awkward. John didn’t know me from Adam’s Off Ox.  Although cordial, Mr. Wheeler soon resumed conversation with his business associates at the table, and I was quickly out of the loop. That was about the last personal contact I had with Mr. Wheeler.  We travelled in different circles.

            John Wheeler remained active for many years thereafter until stuck down by cancer. However, while still in his prime, he was a force with which to be reckoned.