Closed for Renovation

Be Back

In

December

The World Famous Northwest Corner will be closed for a little sprucing up over the next couple or three weeks. A few repairs, a little remodeling, a touch of paint here and there. A new, more contemporary look. Strengthening of structural elements. Better plumbing and more electric. A more rational layout

No, no, no. I'm not talking about the Corner being spruced up! I'm talking about me! The Corner will merely be closed while I'm renovating myself. I'll be off in the wilds of Southeast Asia (see earlier posts), rebuilding mind, soul and body. I'll come back as a new, sleeker, wittier, more sarcastic (but I mean that in the best possible way) model; a less tired, jaded, cliché-ridden and jejune Rainier96.

And, of course, with a newly acquired taste for rice. You're gonna love the changes.

While I'm gone:

1. Have a wonderful Thanksgiving.

2. Look forward eagerly to the opening of the movie version of Philip Pullman's The Golden Compass, due for release the first week of December. (See earlier post.)

3. Check your sports pages to see whether it is Washington or Stanford that finally ends up at the very bottom of the PAC-10 standings.

4. Hope that the Administration doesn't reach for one last-ditch grasp at success and historical relevancy by invading Iran.

5. Keep track of how many more Republicans decide not to run for re-election in 2008, so they can spend more time with their families. Or their dogs. Or to take up origami as they've always dreamed of doing.

6. Await with anticipation Zachary's announcement of which colleges he's applying to this fall.

7. And ... wait eagerly for the re-opening for business of The Northwest Corner by its renovated proprietor.

Take the "A" Train ... Please

San Francisco has BART, a sleekly beautiful interurban system. Washington, D.C., has Metro. Chicago has the antique but serviceable "El" with all its municipal and interurban connections. New York has its gritty but efficient subway system. Atlanta has MARTA. Los Angeles has its Red and Purple lines.

These are all heavy rail systems, running off of electrified third rails. Seattle voted down an excellent, comprehensive area-wide system proposed in 1969. Seattle today has no heavy rail.

Portland has MAX, carrying passengers through downtown and to outlying areas. Colorful Los Angeles has its Gold, Blue and Green lines. Vancouver has its successful SkyTrain.

These are light rail systems, more like streetcars but running on dedicated off-road routes, for the most part, and powered by overhead lines. Seattle is building a light rail line from downtown to the airport, due to open in 2009, and is planning an extension northwards to the University, which may open in 2016. That's all we have in the way of light rail.

I'm depressed.

The light rail authorized to date will be nice for users of the airport, and the extension will be convenient for students. But it does not come close to a comprehensive rail transit system. And Tuesday, voters rejected a ballot measure that would have provided funding for an additional 50 miles of light rail, extending the system into Pierce County to the south and Snohomish County to the north. The measure lost by a decisive margin.

This city has enormous difficulty in carrying through on any project. Part of our problem seems to be the local press. Whenever a public project is suggested, the newspapers are full of excited stories and beautiful architectural drawings. Everyone professes excitement. The project goes forward. Then comes the election to provide financing. All of a sudden, new forces within the newspapers' management seem to surge to the surface. Stories of cost overruns and faulty estimates abound. Headlines warn voters of the increases to come in their tax bills if the measure is approved. Questions are raised -- does this project, paid for us all, only serve certain elite groups (or only poor folks, depending on the project), although paid for by everyone?

An editorial written by a senior editor in one of the two dailies, shortly before the election, was filled with dark forebodings of the money to be wasted, the boondoggle being thrust upon us. He ended with his coup de grâce-- ask yourselves, he wrote, how much good am I -- yes, me, myself, as an individual -- going to get out of this transit system? Ah yes, the attitude that made this country great: "What's in it for me?"

What's in it for me, of course, besides the fact that I think rail transit is inherently cool, is an electrically powered system of mass transit, separated for most of its route from motor vehicle traffic, and able to move people about the city, and to and from work, with a minimum amount of CO2 emissions, a minimum amount of energy consumption, and a maximum amount of speed.

Which brings us to the Sierra Club. I'm a long-time member and fervent supporter of the Sierra Club. The Club has done wonderful work in setting aside wilderness areas and parks, work for which future generations will owe them immense gratitude. But the local chapter of the Sierra Club may well have tipped the balance in ensuring defeat of the rapid transit measure. The problem, for the Club's decision makers, was that the proposition also authorized a large amount of road and bridge construction. They opposed making it easier to drive cars.

I'm not an automobile enthusiast. I love visiting New York and European cities, places where you can spend days traveling around by transit, without needing a car and where a car is merely an encumbrance. But Seattle is not that kind of city yet. It wouldn't have been, even with 50 more miles of rail transit, and even with an excellent Metro bus system. A large percentage of the population will need to depend on motor vehicle transportation for the foreseeable future. As the density of transit routes and the frequency of service increase, that percentage will decrease. But for now, traffic is a nightmare. Road improvements are necessary. The objective is to improve roads and bridges with as little impact on the surrounding community as possible.

To the Sierra Club, half measures were unacceptable. They were unwilling to accept increased road construction in order to get the improved rail transit that will make even greater road construction in the future less necessary. I think that was a mistake.

So I'm depressed. I'm depressed that Seattle has talked about rail transit for so many decades, and has so little to show for it. I'm depressed at the part that the media have played in the debacle of this election. I'm depressed at the role played by the Sierra Club, an organization with whom I feel close ties.

And I'm generally depressed at our inability as a community to make decisions and work together to accomplish what we set out to do.

A Saturday Idyll

Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea.

--Tennyson

A bright sun. A warm day. A dark blue sky. A peaceful Bay. White sails, rocky cliffs, graceful bridges, playful seals. A happy, laughing crew. And always, in the background, the skyline of San Francisco.

I flew down Friday night, and Chris -- an old hiking buddy and our skipper for the day -- met me at the airport and drove me to his home on Russian Hill. The next morning, three of Chris's friends dropped by and joined us. We drove to the marina in Berkeley, where family members from Sonoma were waiting. The eight of us -- three of us competent sailors, of whom I was not one -- set sail -- well, started the engine, actually -- on an excellent and attractive 36-foot sailboat and successfully navigated out of the marina and into San Francisco Bay for a day of sailing.

Well, for the most part, cruising.

Actually, you see, for much of the day, we were as becalmed at sea as an Ancient Mariner with an Albatross hung round his neck. But, hey, it was all good.

We sailed -- powered -- past Alcatraz with all its dark associations, around to the north side of Angel Island, where we disembarked and tested our land legs. The island -- where Chinese immigrants passed through American immigration back in the 19th century, on their way to backbreaking work on railroad crews -- is now a state park. We stopped for a snack at the small concession stand, and then hiked some distance up the trail, walking past one spectacular view after another, views of the Bay and its environs. Kathy was far in front and seemed bound for the summit, persuaded that it would take no time at all to successfully assault the 488-foot "peak." But cooler heads -- prompted by disgruntled cell phone calls from the more nautical members of our crew, waiting impatiently back at the pier -- prevailed. We skipped our way back down the trail to our awaiting boat.

To the west loomed the Golden Gate. We argonauts sailed -- powered -- our way to the ocean, passing under the ever-graceful bridge itself. We kept a nervous eye skyward, watching nervously for descending suicidal bodies. But the day obviously was too nice -- too nice even for a Californian who had lost his Prozac -- for anyone to feel sufficiently depressed for such an act of finality.

We looked astern (as we say in sailing biz), and enjoyed specacular views of the City, its hills and skyscrapers, framed between the bright orange twin towers of the bridge. The ocean was truly "pacific," its surface as calm as that of the Bay itself. But then, just as nervous images flashed through our minds, images of rogue currents bearing us off Japanwards, we prudently executed a broad U-turn and headed back into the safety of the Bay

We skirted the marina and Fisherman's Wharf areas of the City, watching tourists and dogs at play in city parks, and then cut the power a final time, hoisted the mainsail and unfurled the jib (I show off my nautical jargon before I once more forget it), caught a light north wind in our sails, and skimmed peacefully eastwards, back towards Berkeley.

A get-together for drinks at Chez Chris on Russian Hill, and a seafood (of course!) dinner near Fisherman's Wharf brought us to a tired and happy conclusion of a memorable Saturday in the Bay Area.