|
by Gretchen Hildebran/PoorNewsNetwork
I was confused as I sat in the back of the Board of
Supervisor's Chambers two weeks ago. POOR Magazine
editors had sent me to witness Gavin Newsom
introducing his twenty-some-odd point plan to "solve"
homelessness but all I could find in the SF Board Agenda were
two insidious items about shopping carts and public
toilets. Then Supervisor Newsom got his turn on the
microphone and his plan became clear. Throughout his
15 minute speech he moved like a synchronized swimmer
performing his first solo routine, making himself
larger and more competent with every word.
Every hand gesture practiced and perfected, the
dynamics of his voice became at each turn of policy
appropriately passionate or concerned. While softening
all the ideological justifications of his plan to
further manage, exploit and police the homeless and
the poor, his deeper strategy emerged. All eyes were
fixed on the tall and well-suited man, who knows that
talking about getting rid of the homeless will
guarantee you a sound bite on TV and keep downtown
interests, ever hopeful about rising property values,
watching your back and calling you "mayor material."
When Newsom was done grandstanding, it took several
minutes to recover and review my notes. By then the
new golden boy of the Democratic Machine was outside
the Chambers, surrounded by a semi-circle of fawning
reporters and TV cameras. I elbowed myself half-way
in to the scene, hoping to catch a few of KRON's
hard-hitting questions. These appeared to be in short
supply as reporters nodded to Newsom's explanation
that he found it ìmean-spirited to watch people
suffer.î
Back in October, this same kind-hearted politician
voted down the 24-hour notice legislation. That law
would have required the police to notify homeless
people that their possessions would be seized, giving
them time to salvage precious items such as ID,
medicine and clothes. Newsom spoke out against the
legislation and orchestrated its failure. I jumped
into a gap between the smiles to ask him why.
Suddenly a large finger was pointed in my direction.
Sternly the Supervisor protested, "I have been a
champion on services and SRO reform!" A wild glimmer
appeared in his eye and his finger waved at me again,
No need to resort to name calling, he said. I waved
my hands in confusion and backed out of the crowd. I
had expected defensiveness, maybe a slippery
explanation, but not a counter attack. For a couple
of seconds I wondered what explicative had slipped out
of my mouth by accident. But no such slip of the
tongue had occurred. I had merely pointed out a
contradiction between the politician's stated
compassion and his consistent actions against basic
property rights of homeless folks. I was guilty only
of lightly scratching the surface of the slick new
paint job that Newsom is getting in preparation to
look and act like a contender in the 2003 mayor race.
When the new Board of Supervisors was elected in late
2000, Gavin Newsom was one of a few Brown-aligned
incumbents to hold onto his seat. His lasting power
may be related to the fact that he ran uncontended in
District 2, which covers the Marina and Pacific
Heights and is home to the cityís richest and whitest
populations. He was originally appointed in 1997 by
Mayor Brown to the Board of Supervisors seat vacated
by State Assemblyman Kevin Shelley. At the time,
Newsom was little more than a local rich boy with a
poly-sci degree from Santa Clara University. His
status as the owner of a Napa vineyard and Marina wine
shop inspired glee among the business community. The
Chronicle splayed the headline, SF's New Supervisor
Bold, Young Entrepreneur.
What didn't get as much attention was the system of
political patronage which garnered Newsom this
appointment. His father, William A. Newsom, was a
California Appeals Court Judge and is a close friend
and advisor to the likes of John Burton and
billionaire Gordon Getty. In political terms,
Supervisor Newsomís appointment secured Willie Brownís
connection to these families and kept the Board of
Supervisors stocked with cronies who would not
challenge his pro-business, pro-development brand of
machine politics.
Newsom is highly defensive about his privileged
background, and insisted in an profile in the SF
Sentinel that he is basically a normal guy: ìUntil
about five years ago, Iíve never made more than
$22,000 in my life.î While that figure may show up on
his tax return, there is no doubt that Newsom reaps
the rewards of the company he keeps. Gordon Gettyís
son William, (known in society columns as Billy) is a
friend and partner in Plumpjack, a vineyard and chain
of wineshops, restaurants and resorts. Gavin and
Billy make frequent investments together, such as the
Pacific Heights house they sold during the boom years
for about $4 million dollars. The two also dominate
society pages, typified by the media circus which
surrounded Newsomís marriage to D.A. Kimberly
Guilfoyle, which the Gettys hosted at their SF
mansion.
While the mainstream media delights in the whirlwind
affairs of the rich and powerful, they have also
allowed Newsom to portray himself as a self-made man
who will steer clear of Brownís party line. In small
ways Newsom earned this reputation. One of his
distinguishing stands on the Board was to work towards
decriminalizing drug abuse. He successfully promoted
the OBOAT (Office Based Opiate Addiction Treatment)
legislation which would allow private physicians to
administer methadone to people trying to kick heroin
or other opiates.
This initiative was applauded by people suffering due
to lack of substance abuse treatment and the providers
who work with them. However, providers I spoke with
felt that Newsom had aligned himself with the harm
reduction movement for personal and political
advantage. This made him an unpredictable ally to
those fighting against the War on Drugs.
Longtime frontline health worker Rachel McClean found
he aligned himself only with narrowly specific issues.
She suspects that his motives are related to rumors
of family experiences with drug abuse rather than
moral belief in a right to treatment. "Office based
methadone is great, we have worked for it for a long
time. But it definitely serves the interests of the
rich junkies out there who want to be spared the
indignity of going down to the methadone clinic."
McClean recalls Newsom listening to testimony of
addicts in City Hall and benevolently offering them
help. "It makes him look O.K. to all the folks in the
city who are against the war on drugs, who believe in
decriminalization." But this one isolated program
doesn't go very deep she concluded, adding, "The war
on drugs is really a war against poor people and he
couldnít care less about that."
Which brings us back to Newsom's many-pointed plan and
his claim to be promoting it out of compassion. Much
popularized in the Chronicle, Examiner, and even
scoring a story in the New York Times, Newsom's office
released a Policy Advisory Update on January 7th
which claims to work towards a comprehensive
solution to homelessness. The catch phrase "New York
model" has repeatedly appeared in coverage of his plan
due to the fact that many of the most controversial
points of Newsom's are drawn from Guiliani policies in
New York.
When promoting the centralized intake process and
fingerprinting of homeless people, Newsom called these
"the best practices from other cities." He also
borrowed directly from the ideology behind the New
York model when he stated, "This is not a housing
problem, this is a substance abuse and mental health
problem."
The popularity of this ideology and its re-emergence
in the rhetoric of Willie Brownís wanna-be heir is no
accident. This same philosophy is the lynchpin in the
"Ready, Willing and Able" program that has grown into
the "success story" of New York's homeless services.
The program's website details how its founder, George
McDonald, lived in an SRO for years in order to prove
that it could be done, that people could work at
minimum wage, live in SROs and make it. That is,
make it without government assistance, without a
meaningful living wage job, and without addressing the
root causes of homelessness, especially the endemic
lack of affordable housing.
Instead, the Ready Willing and Able program is work
oriented. Their slogan, ìwork works, is the
rhetorical answer to the question what do we do with
all the homeless?î Put them in shelters and require
their labor 40 hours a week at minimum wage. The
program acts as their employers and can lease the
workforce out at cut rates for services such as street
cleaning, bulk mailings, housing maintenance and more.
Success in the program means that you stay sober
(checked with regular drug testing), hand over $65 a
week for room and board from your paycheck and give up
ìentitlementsî such as General Assistance. It also
means that you must remain a docile and compliant
worker in order to receive shelter and treatment.
Chance Martin of the Coalition on Homelessness
commented, ìThis program commodifies homeless people.
There is no investment in the individual, it is only
about filling a certain number of slots to make your
numbers work.î
The RW&A website now boasts of a ìworkforce of 800î
which it gladly offers up to any corporation at the
lowest prices around. Companies such as Toyota,
Citibank and Canon contract with the programís labor.
Graduates of the program often continue to work for
many of the companies who donate to or whose officers
sit on the board of the Doe Fund, the parent funder of
the program.
As was reported last week in the Bay Guardian, the
California-based property management giant CB Richard
Ellis has taken time to promote Ready Willing and Able
as a ìsolutionî right here in San Francisco. Bringing
the program into the cityís range of services was a
hot topic at luncheons between Willie Brown, George
Smith (Head of the Department of Homelessness), Newsom
and CBRE reps. The companyís interest may lie in
raising property values but they may also feel
inspired by the thought of a cut-rate workforce
available for maintenance contracts on their
widespread holdings in San Francisco. Whatever the
motivation, it shouldnít escape notice that in 2001 CB
Richard Ellis was bought out by a private group of
investors known as the Blum Capital Partners, headed
most insidiously by Richard Blum, Senator Dianne
Feinsteinís husband.
The power luncheons with a corporate agenda put
Newsomís plan into context. Homelessness is a popular
ìhot-button issue, that Newsom can use to develop his
leadership profile while serving the interests of the
powerful political leaders who are now grooming him
for a mayoral run. Newsom isnít the regular guy he
wants us to think he is, and he clearly isnít separate
from the machine politics that dominates the Bay Area
and beyond.
Jenny Freidenbach, also of the Coalition On
Homelessness, was standing behind the circle of
reporters as Newsom blurted sound bites at City Hall.
She wasnít impressed. ìHeís not talking about
housing, treatment or living wage jobs, only more
bureaucracy,î was her explanation of why the C.O.H.
wasnít receptive to Newsomís plan. He worked with no
service providers in forming the plan and again has
followed the "New York model" and Willie Brown's lead
in blaming providers and advocates like the C.O.H. for
protecting the rights and dignity of homeless people.
Newsomís homeless policy is inspired by a stingy
political climate and motivated by personal ambition.
The Supervisor has tried to convince more than one
homeless person or advocate that his heart is in the
right place. Freidenbach reported that back in 1998
when the Board of Supervisors voted on whether to cut
G.A. benefits, a man named Garth testified on the
devastating effects of having his monthly check cut to
even less. Although Newsom voted in favor of cutting
the benefit, he approached Garth after the hearing and
apologized.
These kinds of gestures only further indicate that
Newsom is aware of the people he is stepping on to get
ahead. Said Freidenbach, "He knows what he's doing is
wrong, but he does it anyway because he always stays
true to his constituency."
| 
