Retirees Walk Away With a Bit of History
The night before General Motors made the recession a reality for the nation with its announcement of future plant closings and widespread layoffs, Anaheim was voting to proceed with a $17-million expansion of its Convention Center.
The story I wrote about Anaheim’s boomlet didn’t deserve more than its space on Page B6. The City Council vote was more perfunctory than dramatic. But the most momentous event of that evening’s meeting didn’t get any notice in most newspapers; neither was it recorded for radio or TV.
It happened during the part of the meeting reserved weekly for presenting awards or publicly recognizing local achievements. Often, these sessions are little more than opportunities for council members to have their pictures taken with visiting dignitaries or a champion Little League team.
For reporters, these moments--held at the start of the meetings--are often used to review the night’s agenda, search the audience for city staff members who could not be reached for comment earlier that day or gobble a vending-machine sandwich before the start of the “real” meeting.
On Dec. 17, however, something happened that not even the most cynical of us could ignore. It also amounted to an epiphany for me as a reporter, a reminder of who and what makes a city run.
Arranged on the list of those scheduled to receive presentations that night were 10 city workers, none with fewer than 20 years of service; all were being honored on their retirements.
Among them were Art Daw, a deputy city engineer with 31 years of municipal service; George Edwards, power resource project manager with 25 years; Police Sgt. Jerry C. Foster, 22 years; Fire Capt. John Sayer, 30 years; and data entry processor Phenie Doblin, with more than 28 years on the job.
All told, that week’s “graduating class” departed city government with a staggering 259 years of service, probably among the most experienced class to leave since 1987, when a change in medical benefits caused a huge exodus of city workers, according to City Councilman Bob D. Simpson. Most city retirements in groups like this one occur at the end of each year.
Although the city’s worsening financial condition could be cited as partly to blame for this year’s number of departures, many of those honored that night had simply reached what Daw called the “magic age” when they allow the daily grind of running a city to continue without them.
“I said, ‘The heck with it, I don’t need it anymore,’ ” Daw said.
One by one, as the 10 walked before the council to accept a framed certificate of recognition, the audience inside the chamber, and even those of us closeted in the pressroom, could not help but feel a collective loss.
These were the same people who have been witnesses to a period of great growth in the city that may never be duplicated.
In length of service alone, it was a phenomenon: Daw had worked nearly as long as Disneyland has been welcoming visitors; now in her 70s, Doblin started work in a trailer outside City Hall and was known as one of her department’s most dependable employees.
Doblin “was just one of those people who just didn’t believe in calling in sick,” said Laurie Marsden, a former supervisor. “She was a delight to supervise, because she didn’t do anything wrong. I think she just got tired.”
Why did it touch me? They are real people who, for reporters such as me, ought to be treasure chests of ideas, history and good humor. And yet, with a few exceptions, I had never even met them.
But their appearance that night in the council chamber hammered home an important point for me: As reporters, we too often are chasing high-profile council members or department heads for faceless stories about budget deficits and political campaigns. This tendency leaves little time or room for the voices of employees such as Wade R. Faircloth Jr., George W. Robichaud, Klaus Berger, William G. Lozier and Rose M. Whitney.
“We all lose something when people with that many years leave,” Councilman Irv Pickler said. “You can’t tell me it doesn’t have any affect. Somehow, we regroup and fill that void.”
And maybe next year, I’ll know more about the group of retiring employees than just the years of work printed next to their names on the City Council program.
