The Glendale Humane Society left City...

The Glendale Humane Society left City Hall at the altar. What we

haven’t heard is why the group scooped up its train and fled down the

aisle, rather than sign a new contract to provide animal control

services for the city. I’ll try to explain, but I can’t claim it

makes sense.

It began last year, with a series of revelations uncovering a

years-long pattern of contract violations and wrongdoing at the

animal shelter. That was followed by dramatic changes in the

shelter’s staff, board and policies. The abrupt end came out of two

recent snits by the City Council and the Glendale Humane Society.

When the council was ready to sign a three-year contract, members

wanted to interview the man hired six months ago to manage the

facility, Fred DeLange. But a shelter board member said DeLange had a

previous commitment. Later, DeLange said he was told not to attend

the meeting by the same woman who said he was otherwise engaged,

Paulette Ramsay Wood.

Council members bellowed that their trust had been abused, and

decreed the contract would be cut to 18 months. Then, if it wasn’t

victimized by more cruel lies, the council would consider a longer

commitment. It was an inflammatory gesture, especially pointless

because the contract included escape clauses and other remedies if

problems arose, whether in 18 months or 18 days.

Next, the Humane Society’s board considered the contract. A

majority turned it down, then announced they’re out of the animal

control business. The group will return to its roots of 78 years ago,

serving only as a “no-kill” shelter. One board member, former city

treasurer Betty Evans, resigned immediately. There were reports

former councilwoman Ginger Bremberg also resigned her board seat. I

spoke to Bremberg, now on her annual summer sojourn to Minnesota.

“They can’t get rid of me that easily,” Bremberg said.

The contract’s rejection was not prompted by the reduced term.

“The process was a cumulative one,” Ramsay Wood said. “Cutting the

contract was only part of it.” According to Ramsay Wood, who said

she’s the only one authorized by the board to speak publicly, the

“last straw” was a new clause.

“They put in a section that prohibits us from selling animals to

laboratories or anyone else for medical testing,” Ramsay Wood said.

“We would never do that, and the board was deeply hurt and

personally insulted.”

The contract also required proof shelter vehicles are insured.

Should that have been cut to avoid implying the board might save a

few bucks by skipping insurance? How about the provision demanding

shelter staff “promptly investigate cruelty-to-animal charges”? Could

one infer that meant the city was afraid shelter staff might catch a

movie first? Contracts are demands each party makes of one another,

and they prohibit acts both sides almost surely say they’d never

commit. Did sentiment over animals blind the board to that reality?

Ramsay Wood said the board was especially offended because “[the

clause] came directly from Chrissi Fernandez.” Fernandez is the woman

whose accusations led to discovery of the city shelter’s scandals

last year. Some of her shelter-related demands of the council are

extreme, and she’s prone to characterizing anyone not in lockstep as

someone willing to cruelly harm or neglect animals. Ramsay Wood

urgently told me “we have reason to know” the council put 12

provisions in the contract directly from a list of 34 Fernandez

proposed. She was unimpressed when I noted 22 Fernandez proposals

didn’t make it in.

The board had other gripes, some legitimate. But many, like some

councilmen trying to micromanage the shelter, would have faded with

time. But as the board saw it, with the proposed 18-month contract

retroactive to January, the new contract was only good for a year,

when they’d go through it all again. With a nest egg just under $1

million, the board chose to live as a no-kill shelter, and to solicit

donors.

A man obviously caught in the board’s shift is DeLange. Indeed, I

spoke to Ramsay Wood when she returned a message I’d left for

DeLange. When I asked if my talking to DeLange was a “problem,”

Ramsay Wood assured me, “It’s no problem.” Then she made it clear I

wouldn’t be allowed to speak with him. His talking to me would

violate the board’s resolve to “speak with one voice.”

That prompted me to ask about DeLange’s future. After 32 years

with Burbank’s animal shelter, he started at Glendale’s in January

with great fanfare. In press releases and speeches, DeLange was

touted as the professional who would restore the shelter’s

credibility.

I asked Ramsay Wood if DeLange fit in the board’s new plans. She

assured me he supports the plan.

“But the board always envisioned him as a temporary employee,

perhaps for the year it might take us to find the real executive

director we need,” Ramsay Wood said. “He took this job planning to

retire soon.”

Statements of board members earlier this year contradict virtually

every facet of what is now apparently the board’s official stance. In

fact, though DeLange isn’t permitted to talk now, in December, the

63-year-old specifically said he wouldn’t be retiring because he’s

raising two grandchildren. “I feel like I can give the city of

Glendale and the Humane Society several good years,” DeLange said.

The vacancy DeLange left in Burbank hasn’t been filled, and sources

there tell me there have been preliminary discussions about DeLange

returning.

I see many hurdles in the Humane Society’s future. First, the nest

egg looks puny beside the shelter’s most urgent need: a new building.

Today’s facility is grossly out of date. In the contract, the city

had committed to helping with that.

The shelter has passionate backers, and many will come through.

But to live on, they need much more. The region is well populated

with people eager to support worthy animal welfare causes, but many

groups compete for the same benefactors. Glendale’s Humane Society is

going up against well-established giants, and does so with a record

of two scandalous periods of neglect in its past, and a facility that

may deter more supporters than it attracts. And what happens if a

prospective donor asks for written assurance the shelter won’t sell

animals for medical testing?

When the shelter’s former board resisted changes demanded by the

city, there was talk of seizing the facilities through eminent

domain. There is none of that today, and everyone seems to agree

there is no hope for repairing the latest fracture.

City officials are resigned to finding alternatives, and recognize

that, at least in the short term, they’ll have to spend more than

they’d anticipated. I don’t know where they expect to find the money.

The Glendale Humane Society, says Ramsay Wood, is headed into its

new future, one the board envisions as promising. I don’t know why.