Commentary : Relief for Newport? Just Do Like Caldepoppa and Tell People to Leave

“Pal, we’ve sure got a bunch of strong-thinking, community-minded people in this town,” McGudgeon announced, apparently marveling.

“Surprises you, eh?” I asked.

“SPON, for example,” he went right on, “the acronym for Stop Polluting Our Newport. SPON was a big push in the slow-growth initiative that was barely beaten in the election before last, and that only through heavy, last-minute money tossed in by the opposition. But SPON is into all manner of issues.”

Uncommon talk, this, coming from McGudgeon who, though active in many areas, has ever stayed clear of local government or anything giving off even the tainted waft of politics. He had, however, been a contributor to SPON and had received an invitation to a meeting.

“Man, was I floored by their agenda,” he resumed. “Allan Beek and Jean Watt were the major speakers. And since then, Jean Watt has been elected to the Newport City Council--which is a neat thing, for the lady is for real.

“Stacks of published information were piled before Beek and Jean Watt, all of which they were wholly familiar. The discussion dealt with residential densities, commercial intensities, roads and traffic, the adequacy of the environmental impact report and land and allotment using decimals like 0.42. Way, way beyond my sheepherder’s level of comprehension.

“Too, they were regularly appearing before the County Planning Commission, the Board of Supervisors and the City Council.

“During the buffet luncheon break Jean Watt asked me what I thought of the proceedings. Lost, I told her, thoroughly lost: I kind of anticipated discussion on slow-growth. She asked me if I had any particular opinions on the subject, and --er--well, I said ‘yes.’ So she said she’d call on me later.”

Ah! Now we come to it. McGudgeon is indeed a guy of opinions; moreover it is well known that he has never been loath to voicing them. “Ok, buddy-boy,” I said, “so what did you lay on the group?”

“Well, she called on me. Slow-growth as I see it, I told them, is essentially self-serving. Most of my life I’ve been in the lumber business. Accordingly, I was a flag-waver for the building of houses--build more and more. Build ‘em like crazy--all through Southern California and Hawaii--but, by God, never here, never, never in my back yard. It’s the old cry: ‘I’m aboard the ship, so haul up the gangway, me hearties!’

“But I’m not alone. In a recent survey of Orange County taken by UC Irvine, it pops up that 64% of us county residents favor slowing growth in our communities.

“Of course, slowing growth is a devil of an undertaking. The shilly-shalliers sigh and wring their hands. But I told them there is a solution indeed. Absolutely!--and I guess I was shouting.”

Ah, the real McGudgeon is about to come on; the medicine man with cure-all elixir. Go to it McGudgeon, go!

“David Camp, a fellow up in the Bay Area,” he continued, “actually in Ross, Calif., heads what he calls the California Depopulation Commission, the acronym being Caldepop. He calls himself the ‘Caldepoppa.’ The letterhead reads ‘Progress, Smogress.’ His purpose is the depopulation of the San Francisco area through inducing people to move out!

“From towns and cities all over the nation, he receives brochures and promotional hoopla. He distributes the stuff throughout the Bay Area, hoping that it will entice some of the entrenched to shuffle off for elsewhere. His slogan is ‘Elsewhere is Beautiful’ and, egad, many of the places he pushes are attractive. Like Marietta, Ga.: Lovely open country, trees, nice homes at prices we pay out here for corrugated lean-tos alongside the mainline tracks or space over a bowling alley. No earthquakes, smog or tidal waves, he claims.

“Caldepoppa also plugged Columbus, Ohio. Ever been there? America’s sinkhole.

“Kind of automatically,” I pointed out, “a Caldepop program could, in a single sweep, zap a number of problems--residential densities, commercial intensities, roads and traffic, other baddies.”

“The people were really listening,” McGudgeon continued unheedingly, “laughing, too, at times. So I figured I’d lay the real biggie on them.

“I told them that they may have recently read, as I did--it was a small blurb kind of tucked away--that the Chamber of Commerce of our l’il ole Newport has hired a PR man and is allotting $500,000 a year--a cool half- million--for the promoting of Newport Beach.

“So this hotshot will beat the drum to get outlanders to trek here, as well as businesses, and factories, and hotels--and with the effluvium we’ll get yet more swindlers augmenting our present unholy overload. And all the while we’ll be struggling to cut our gridlock, fight smog, and density, and all the other bad stuff.

“At that point I figured I had said it, laid it all on. What’s more, I’d become a bit thirsty and was hoping to get over to that buffet table to grab a Coke. But a couple of people stood up wanting to ask questions--and shucks, I could see the Cokes were going fast.

“A lady asked: ‘And how would you propose remedying this Newport Beach promotional scheme?’

“A tough question. I went through some stalling and hmmmmmm-ing. . . . Well, I said, I’ll tell you . . . if this were still the Old West, there would be no question at all on what we’d do.

“‘And what would that be?’ she asked.

“Shucks, ma’am, with no hesitatin’, no hemmin’ and hawwin’, we’d sure ride that PR critter plumb out town on a rail--and pronto.