The Valley’s a Flirt, but She Doesn’t Stray

‘Twas a typical Saturday at the Sherman Oaks Galleria, the shoppers milling and bustling. From behind me, there came a voice, feminine and seductive.

“Hey, big boy.”

I turned. Didn’t recognize a soul.

“The mayor appreciates all your help.”

I looked down. There she was, my old friend Deputy Mayor Barbie.

It’s always good to see Barbie. Blond hair, blue eyes, body by Mattel. And brainy, too. She had quite a resume before she joined the Riordan administration. She met the future mayor when he was restructuring her toy company. Now she’s the deputy mayor for damage control.

Barbie and I go way back. I crouched down and we exchanged pleasantries. Then I took the bait.

“What do you mean, ‘all my help’?”

She flashed that plastic grin.

“Oh, the way you called the phony-baloney Valley secession movement phony-baloney. We really appreciate that. It helped get folks riled up. All this talk, pro or con, gave Dick an excuse to visit the Valley and remind folks that he loves them and feels their pain.

“He’s running for reelection, you know.”

It was starting to make sense. Ever since Assemblywoman Paula Boland introduced a bill to make it easier for the San Fernando Valley to secede from the city, Riordan has made the most of the commotion, speaking and appearing at events to solidify his political base.

It was the Valley that elected the power broker from Brentwood and it will be the Valley that reelects him.

The more Barbie talked, the more I came to understand the mayor’s thinking. It’s not that he really considered secession a serious threat. After all, there’s nothing out there worthy of the label “movement”--no grass-roots organization, nobody raising money for the cause. Even people who’ve endorsed Boland’s bill have taken pains to say they’re not actually endorsing secession, mind you. So it’s more about achieving leverage than achieving a more perfect disunion.

The mayor knows this. He also knows there’s no gain in saying so. The gain, Barbie said, comes in acting like the secession is a clear and present danger.

“Remember Barbie’s First Law: All life is high school.”

She explained: “Think of the Valley as the girl who tells her sweetheart, the star quarterback and student body president, that he’s not paying enough attention to her. That if he’s not careful, she might very well invite somebody else to the Sadie Hawkins Dance.

“Now, the boyfriend--that would be Dick--knows that deep down, she’s not really serious,” Barbie continued. “I mean, who would she invite? Tom Hayden? I don’t think so. Mark Ridley-Thomas? Get real. Oh, there’s a small chance maybe she’d ask Howard Berman, but he’s just captain of the chess club and what if he said thanks but no thanks? Besides, she really likes Dick best. He’s the big man on campus.

“Anyway, Dick realizes there’s no advantage in offending her. He knows she’s just playing mind games but figures it’s best to play along. So he comes over with candy and sweet talk, saying you’re my true love and those other girls over the hill are, you know, just friends.”

This was Barbie’s way of talking about last Thursday, when the mayor made the rounds of the Valley. He spoke at a luncheon of the Northridge Chamber of Commerce, helped dedicate a porno-movie-house-turned-community-

theater in Canoga Park and met the academic decathletes of El Camino Real High School. Time and again, the mayor boasted about how his new budget included all sorts of goodies for the Valley.

Please don’t leave me, the big man on campus told his sweetie. I won’t just carry your books. I’ll build libraries for you! I won’t just drape my coat over puddles. I’ll pave your potholes! Not only will I bring you flowers. I’ll trim your trees!

“Now, hold on a sec,” I said. “Some of those budget stories looked pretty fishy to me. How come the mayor claims credit for libraries that were built with bond money approved by voters long before he ran for office? And why doesn’t he point out how cutbacks in the Fire Department will affect the Valley?”

Deputy Mayor Barbie gave me one of those blank stares of hers that somehow says so much. This one said: It’s called politics, bub.

Then Barbie smiled and seemed to bat her immobile eyelashes. I was still in my crouch, and my knees were starting to hurt.

“Come on,” she said, “it’s Saturday. We shouldn’t be arguing. There’s so much more to life than politics. Let’s go shopping. You can buy me a cappuccino. They’re going to expand the Galleria--don’t you think that’s swell?”

Yes, I agreed, that was just super.

“Don’t forget,” Barbie added, “the mayor is pro-Galleria.”

Scott Harris’ column appears Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. Readers may write to Harris at the Times Valley Edition, 20000 Prairie St., Chatsworth 91311. Please include a phone number.