The National Broadband Plan’s #1 long-term goal, which will serve as “a compass over the next decade”, is to get at least 100 million U.S. homes affordable access to “actual download speeds of at least 100 megabits per second and actual upload speeds of at least 50 megabits per second.” Current cable and dsl services don’t even come close to providing such speed.

Google’s goal is to install a fiber-optic network offering those speeds, within a year’s time, in a few test cities around the country. Glendale’s businesses, households, schools, and civic communications could all enjoy ultra high-speed internet access and be at the leading edge of the information revolution!

Go to Google4Glendale.com to nominate Glendale as a test city. Glendale staff have already put together a solid list of reasons why Glendale is a great city for this network.

It further urges the California Congressional Delegation to introduce legislation repealing limitations on state and local authority imposed by the Telecommunications Act of 1996. The resolution will go before the full Board of Supervisors on Tuesday, March 23. If approved, San Francisco will join a list of municipalities including Glendale and Los Angeles County who have sent similar resolutions to the FCC and Congress (longer list available at www.cloutnow.org).

The text before the Public Safety Committee cited an April 2009 resolution approved by the full Parliament of the European Union, in a vote of 559 to 22, calling for consideration of biological effects when assessing potential health impacts of electromagnetic radiation, coordinated regional oversight on placement of masts and antennas, and monitoring potential fraud or conflicts of interest in research studies on this subject.

For more information about how to get government information, check the official Sunshine Week website, or the Sunshine Week page on the Society of Professional Journalists website.

The Center for American Progress will be hosting a Sunshine Week event, Building Transparency, in Washington, D.C. on Friday, March 19, featuring speakers from government, media, and public interest groups. The noon to 2 p.m. event will be available via webcast with no registration required.

Gregory E. Rapisarda, a lawyer representing T-Mobile at the required community information meeting, said the company needs the tower to provide better wireless in-home service for voice, data and streaming visual content to customers.

Also in Maryland, Gazette.net posted this letter representing “more than 200 Walt Whitman neighbors and parents” concerned about a cell tower proposed for that school’s campus. The letter details potential health concerns, poor aesthetics of a 12-story tower in a neighborhood of single-family homes, and inadequacy of lease fees to the school district relative to potential costs. It also cites other school districts and communities that have taken action to prevent installation of cell sites in or near school grounds.

Gatto believes the state tax code is inherently unstable and advocates establishing a rainy day fund. “If you average state revenues over a 10 year period, we’ve done fine. We need to mandate that if tax revenues exceed expectations in a good year, that a certain amount is put away for years when revenues are down.”

Mike Gatto campaigning

The education system should focus on workforce development, Gatto says. “Students shouldn’t be made to feel like failures if they don’t succeed according to one standard or metric. It is absolutely critical to involve local employers and create opportunities for partnerships, to show students there’s a path for them to succeed as long as they finish school.”

Gatto favors local control over education whenever possible. “It is sad that so many parents and community members feel the state is not a partner in education.” With respect to the state budget crisis, he advocates “changing the rules under which the state could borrow Proposition 98 funds. While they are guaranteed to be repaid, every child going through school suffers during those years when funds aren’t available. Proposition 98 has been treated as a ceiling, when it was meant as a floor.”

Creating a bicameral legislative committee “with teeth” to investigate abuse is one of Gatto’s goals. Citing poor purchasing and contracting decisions, he wants to restore funding for investigators. “I’d rather pay ‘budget cops’ to find abuses and correct them, then cut spending in that area.” Gatto would have investigators report directly to the legislative committee. “If legislators promise to find and eliminate fraud, they can run on their record. And if they do find a problem, it will become a part of the public record, reducing waste in the long run.”

Environmental and historic preservation are priorities. Gatto says he is committed to preserving open space, reducing graffiti, and “being mindful of the visual environment, too.” With respect to state incentives for transit-oriented development, “I approve of the concept of making sure every planning decision takes into account what’s best for the region in terms of transportation, congestion, and jobs. There are state incentives for development, but I also want to make sure we have the same incentives for historic preservation of our neighborhoods.”

Gatto advocates complete divestment of California investments in companies that do business with “Iran’s rogue regime.” He also proposes that the state refuse to do business with such companies. “Divestment rules must have teeth – this was a major factor in ending apartheid in South Africa.”

Even as the Glendale City Council has taken a strong stand against it, Gatto says he is still researching the 710 Tunnel project proposal and has not made a decision on whether to support the plan or not.

Dissenter Dave Weaver said he needed more information which would be developed as the project took a definite direction. Weaver said Southern Californians have appreciated all area freeways, even though communities opposed each at the time of construction.

Laura Friedman countered that the region is worse off today because before the freeways were built, a light rail system that used to serve many communities here was dismantled. Friedman opposes the 710 Tunnel project proposal as a policy matter, and advocates a rail system for moving freight from the ports through the region.

Council member Ara Najarian, who heads the MTA, was taken aback as Friedman criticized his recent MTA abstention vote on the 710 Tunnel project and questioned why Glendale city council wasn’t alerted to the matter ahead of time. Najarian explained that the vote was combined with another project that he does support, and that he’s made his position very clear and led local opposition to the tunnel well before other council members.

Following council members’ comments, city manager Jim Starbird and city attorney Scott Howard both discussed how staff would proceed to establish Glendale as a leader in opposing the multi-billion dollar CalTrans proposal.

“Because I am receiving the Women in Business Award, I would be remiss if I didn’t make note of the fact that March is Women’s History Month, [and acknowledge] that the struggle of women in business is quite similar to the struggle of many minority communities … including the Latino community. In this country, it’s sort of like pledging a fraternity, you wait until it’s your turn for acceptance and you do what has to be done to “join the club”.

The women of this nation, despite their citizenship, had to wait 150 years to be recognized. And those who endured the fight, and managed to come out on the other side . . . these are the women to whom we owe a debt.

It is because of those who came before us . . . those with guts, courage and conviction … women who made it possible for me, and all the women in this room to have an equal voice in the workplace . . . these are the women we need to remember and these are the women we should be honoring.

And it is because of these women, that I have a voice to share my convictions, to champion my cause.”

Glickman was recognized for her strong advocacy for the arts and her leadership in local organizations, including the Downtown Glendale Merchants’ Association. At Glendale Arts, she is responsible for forming community partnerships, overseeing fundraising and marketing, and Alex Theatre development and oversight.

The GLA named Richard Roche, AT&T Director of External Affairs, as 2010 Man of the Year. Roche currently chairs the Verdugo Workforce Investment Board, serves as President of the Glendale Chamber of Commerce, participates on the boards of the Glendale Community College Foundation and the Glendale Educational Foundation as well as other local civic and business advisory organizations.

The Community Foundation of the Verdugos received the 2010 Organization of the Year Award. The nonprofit administers and channels endowment funds from area donors to charitable organizations in Glendale, La Canada Flintridge, La Crescenta, Montrose and Verdugo City, and also offers scholarships and interest-free loans to local students.

Providing scholarships for deserving GUSD students ($15,000 in 2009; a goal of $20,000 this year) is the mission of the Glendale Latino Association. Its monthly business networking and annual community events raise funds awarded every year in May – this year’s GLA Scholarship Award breakfast will be held May 27 at the Glendale Hilton. On May 6, GLA will hold its annual Salsa for Scholarships fundraiser.

A Day of Action rally at Hoover High School, Thursday, March 4, drew district officials, teachers and parents to protest steep drops in education funding. The joint rally occurred just before the GUSD community meeting on district plans to address cuts in state funding.

During the community meeting, GUSD President Mary Boger said California will be resubmitting an application for the U.S. government’s Race to the Top initiative.

This San Francisco Chronicle editorial discusses the state’s failed first round application, and directs blame at the divisive actions of teacher unions. The surprise ending is the hope that California will be able to obtain some of the “free money” the federal government is dispensing.

Desperate school districts look to the state, desperate states appeal to the federal government, but do they really think this money is “free”? What are we paying for more loss of local control? What will we be paying in the future in higher taxes to support more top-down control?

The takeaway from the community meeting was that district-provided medical, dental, and vision benefits combined with life insurance coverage are costing a huge amount of money, and those costs have been increasing by a minimum of 10 percent a year for the past several years. How many individual taxpayers in Glendale who don’t work for the district, the city, or the state, have such generous employment benefits? I spoke with a parent after the community meeting whose entire family has no coverage whatsoever.

Also under the paperweight:
California Students Complain About ‘Tax Hikes’
5 Better Places to Protest Than a College Campus
Coffee with Cal State Chancellor Charles B. Reed

June 1969

“Lookit this,” Lenny said, handing me the bat.

“So?” I said, unimpressed. It was a little heavier than most bats, and its color was a darker blonde than most.

“So?” he said incredulously, snatching the bat out of my hands as if I were unworthy.

“It’s a bat. We going to Verdugo?”

I suddenly did not want to go to the park if it was baseball he had in mind. Usually we played basketball and in the fall we would play tackle football in our jeans and sweatshirts. The football games were interminable marathons and when we were at the point of utter and complete exhaustion, Lenny would declare halftime and I don’t know why the rest us didn’t just quit on him but instead we would go to the drinking fountain, then return to battle for a few more hours until the score of the game became incalculable or forgotten, and Lenny—we ended up dubbing him The Commissioner—would announce that next touchdown would win. I much preferred football or basketball to baseball; I was no good at baseball and my ineptitude drove Lenny crazy.

“No way. We’re not playing baseball at Verdugo. Not until you learn how to swing a bat. You swing like you’re…”

“Chopping wood. ‘Sokay with me, I hate baseball. Let’s play some basketball. At least I know give and go.”

“We got some other business today.”

“What?”

“This bat,” he said, holding it aloft like it was the staff of Moses, “is worth a fortune.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“This is a real old bat. Real old.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Look at it, Jack. It’s in clean shape. It’s a pro bat. A collector’s item.”

“Where’d you find it?”

“A tenant left it when he moved out.”

“Aren’t you gonna send it to him or something?”

“No. Are you kidding? Finders keepers.”

“If it’s so valuable why’d he forget it?”

“Cause he probably didn’t know it was valuable. Probably got it in a junk store from somebody else that didn’t know.”

“How you gonna prove it’s an old bat?”

“Look at the writing right there. What do you see?”

“Looks like scribbles.”

“Hold it this way. Looks like Phil Rizzuto.”

“Who’s he?”

“He played for the Yankees.”

“I can’t tell. Looks like a P but it might a A.”

“No, Jack. Look, that says Phil right there. And that right there, that’s the R for Rizzuto.”

“How you gonna prove it?”

“That’s what we’re doing today. You got a bike?”

“No.”

“You don’t have a bike?” He started laughing.

“I had a bike. It was purple. A Huffy.”

“A Huffy?” he said, laughing louder.

“I got it for Christmas when I was like 10.”

“They didn’t get you a Schwinn?”

“No. Mom bought it used from Morey across the street. It was purple and gigantic.”

“Pitiful. What happened to it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s in the garage. I’m not riding it though, even if it is.”

“I got a bike you can use.”

“Where are we going?”

“We’re gonna take the bat to a baseball expert.”

“Coach Libman?”

“Yeah, right. I said an expert. The guy who used to be the manager for the Yankees, not some loser high school coach.”

“Oh you mean Yogi Bear?”

“Yeah we’re gonna go steal picnic baskets.”

“Ok, very funny. I meant Yogi Berra.”

“Better than him. Come on, let’s go.” He grabbed a fistful of sunflower seeds and we went and got his bike under the lemon tree and then found the spare bike in the carport.

We never biked anywhere that I can remember and we never did after that day. Not that it was bad or that anything bad happened that day; it’s just that it wasn’t a sport, it was just a mode of transportation and we walked everywhere, all over Burbank. But this was something new and I was looking forward to it. We got on the bikes and headed east down Verdugo Avenue. I didn’t bother to ask Lenny where or how far or who the baseball expert was. We rode almost a mile and were coming up to Victory Boulevard before I spoke.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going to Casey Stengel’s house.”

“Who’s he?”

“Did you just say who’s he?”

“Yeah.” The name was familiar but I wanted some clarification.

“Oh. Nobody, just some guy who managed the New York Yankees to like 10 World Series, that’s all.”

I went silent for another mile. We were on Glenoaks Boulevard before I decided I would speak. I didn’t know much about baseball. I realized that day that although I loved the Los Angeles Dodgers I could only name three of them: Sandy Koufax; Don Drysdale and Maury Wills, and Koufax was retired. I tried to dredge up some face-saving factoid about the Yankees, but all I could think of was Babe Ruth and a pitcher by the name of Whitey Ford. I only knew Whitey Ford because I had heard my brother talk about him. I don’t know how the brain works exactly but a name came to me that was out of my mouth before I even realized I had said it. I think that I was probably trying to make amends for my Yogi Bear gaffe.

“I thought Leo Durocher was the Yankees manager,” I said with an understated authority.

“No, Jake. Durocher managed some other team called the Brooklyn Dodgers. Ever heard of them?”

Why was baseball so essential? Football and basketball are so much better; they were fluid where baseball was static. Football is the best sport of them all. I recalled a question in a kids’ magazine asking which sport is known as the King of Sports. I was sure it was football and stared in disbelief at the answer: Horseracing. I hated baseball. All that standing and waiting and sitting and waiting. I couldn’t hit, field or throw, and I thought standing in the batter’s box trying to not make a fool of yourself was like attending church naked and hoping to go unnoticed. Nevertheless, I was intrigued at the prospect of meeting a famous major league baseball manager from a legendary baseball team.

“Where the heck does he live anyway?”

“Glendale.”

“Glendale?”

“Relax, we’re almost there.”

“If he’s from New York what’s he doing in Glendale?”

“Whatever he wants. He’s retired. There’s lots of old people in Glendale, so he’s in the right place.”

We turned on Glenview Avenue. The houses were nice but not at all ostentatious. It seemed to me if you were a well-paid famous person you would live in San Marino or Newport or maybe Los Feliz—I always thought it would be cool to live in one of those houses on the way to the Griffith Park Observatory—but Glendale, well Glendale wouldn’t be at the top of anyone’s list. I was 15 and didn’t know circumstances and choices of adults any more than I knew baseball history.

“There it is.” Lenny called out, pointing at the house with the bat.

“Who told you where he lives?”

“Marty.”

“Marty? Who’s Marty?”

“Fat Marty. He played football at Verdugo a few times. You liked blocking him because he was blubbery.”

“Oh yeah, Marty. How’d he know?”

“He’s got connections.”

“Huh.” I couldn’t imagine anyone our age having “connections,” even in LA.

We dismounted and walked our bikes up the driveway. We stood on the porch and looked at each other, laughing with joy, quietly. Lenny pressed the doorbell which after a moment’s delay chimed in a humble, modest tone.

“Do we call him Mr. Durocher or Leo?”

“Don’t say anything,” Lenny answered, shaking his head in disbelief.

We stood on the porch for what seemed an inordinate amount of time but I was impatient and didn’t want to get chased away.

“Nobody’s here. Let’s go.”

“Just wait.”

A moment later we heard footsteps inside the house, followed by the unlatching of latches and unbolting of deadbolts. When the door opened an elderly woman stood before us, smiling, waiting for one of us to speak.

“Um, hello,” Lenny began tentatively, “we were in the neighborhood and just wanted to say hello to Mr. Stengel.”

I pondered the notion of being in the neighborhood from five miles away but concluded that our two towns were the neighbors. I raised my eyebrows and nodded my head enthusiastically, accustomed to playing the role of Harpo. The woman looked at us like we were little cherubs hovering on her front porch bearing good news for the Stengels. Lenny had the bat resting on his shoulder.

“Well, isn’t that nice? Why don’t you come in boys?”

“Thank you,” Lenny said, smooth as glass,” I hope we’re not disrupting your Saturday.” He had suddenly morphed into a decorously mannered young man I had no idea he was capable of imitating, let alone becoming. There was no Eddie Haskell in him at the moment; he was sincere.

“Oh why, it’s no disruption at all,” she chuckled at either the word or the notion. “Wait here, I’ll see if Casey wouldn’t mind some visitors. I’m sure he wouldn’t.”

“Thank you, ma’m. I’m Lenny and this is Jack. We won’t stay long.”

“Nice you to meet you, both. I’m Edna, Mrs. Stengel, Casey’s wife. I’ll be right back.”

We stood in the dark, quiet entryway. Lenny took the bat off his shoulder and simply held it at his side. I felt like we were getting away with something because Mrs. Stengel was treating us like were adorable little kids who came to see their hero but we were in fact too old at 15 to be adorable, and my heroes—Roosevelt Grier, David Deacon Jones, Lamar Lundy and Merlin Olsen—were football players. Casey Stengel was too old to be our hero; Lenny knew about him because his dad grew up in New York and was an avid sports enthusiast. And while the visit would mean more to Lenny than it did to me, he was still there on business.

“If the bat is valuable are you going to sell it?”

“No way.”

“Then you have a bat worth a lot that you’ll never sell.”

“You don’t get it.”

I was going to ask Lenny to explain what it was I didn’t understand when Casey Stengel appeared from the back of the living room, appraised us for a moment and then moved toward us, slowly. I knew he was old but I somehow had expected him to still look athletic. He was old but not frail. He moved slowly but with certainty, greeted us amiably and invited us to follow him to the den where we stayed for half an hour listening to stories of the glory days of baseball. He showed us his trophy case but shrugged nonchalantly when we made sounds to express our awe. Lenny was able to carry a conversation with Casey—they talked about the Mets, the Yankees and how the game had changed over the years. I stayed in Harpo mode, mugging, nodding, and putting my hand on my head at what I thought might be appropriate moments. Just when I thought Lenny was going to pass on asking about the bat, he held it up and presented it to Casey.

“Mr. Stengel…”

“Casey.”

“Casey, I found this bat and it looks pretty old. It’s autographed and I was wondering if you could look at it,” Lenny said as if it didn’t matter much to him.

“Huh? Oh yeah,” he said, holding the bat in both hands as if he were weighing it. “It’s a bat all right.” He looked at one end and then the other.

“What do you think?” Lenny asked, unable to maintain his matter of fact tone.

“Well, I’ll tell ya. This bat? It’s just a bat. It’s not rare or nothing.”

“But…”

“It’s not special or nothin’, but it’s especially not worth nothin’ to you.” He smiled and then nodded with finality and handed the bat back to Lenny. No one knew who should speak next but Mrs. Stengel arrived as if on cue. We all stood up and made ready to leave. We thanked him, we thanked her and in a moment we were on the front porch picking up our bikes, the door closing behind us. Lenny was in a funk but I knew if I said something sympathetic he would take the opposite point of view and shake it off.

“Oh well,” I said as we rolled down Grandview Avenue.

“The bat doesn’t matter,” he said with conviction, “we had a visit with Casey Stengel. The bat was just our excuse to go see him.”

“Yeah,” I said, taking my feet off the pedals and for a moment I had that memory of riding a bike for the very first time.