Roller Coaster

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Until a couple of months ago, Charles Lester thought everything was going well at his post as the California Coastal Commission’s executive director. Lester, whose hiring was unanimously approved by the commission just four and a half years ago, had racked up a number of accomplishments as its second director ever—including securing a bigger staff, streamlining complex processes and finding compromise on controversial projects.
Looking back, Lester now sheepishly admits that he was considering asking for a raise. That was, until last December, when he got an unfavorable performance review from commissioners. Suddenly the Soquel resident realized his days at the commission, which oversees more than 1,000 miles of coastline, might be numbered.
Lester received notice of his possible termination in January and opted for a public hearing on the decision.
“The notice itself wasn’t a total surprise, although the exact timing was a little surprising,” Lester says.
Lester, who is known for being low-key and soft-spoken, is technically still employed by the commission, helping staff transition to Senior Deputy District Jack Ainsworth’s leadership, while members look for an interim executive director.
Lester’s termination set off a firestorm of environmentalist outrage, with more than 600 people showing up to his hearing in Morro Bay and giving six hours of testimony. Due to lobbyists’ growing influence on the commission, politicians and activists all over the state have said that pro-development interests were behind the firing—something Lester says appears to be true.
Commissioners, who called for the termination and approved it on a 7-5 vote, gave their own reasons for the change, some vague and some dubious.
One was the worry that the Coastal Commission staff, 95 percent of which signed a letter supporting Lester, doesn’t accurately reflect the diversity of the state. Although Lester called the accusation “a misdirection,” he doesn’t take the issue of diversity lightly.
“It’s really important. I’m not saying it isn’t. I felt like I was addressing it. Is there more to do? Yep. There’s more to do,” Lester says.
Lester had actually just released an update on the state of diversity in the Coastal Commission as part of that month’s director’s report. The report’s numbers reveal a staff that, although not a cultural melting pot, is in step with other state agencies. According to the report, the staff’s racial diversity is actually about double that of environmental groups in the state, with people of color on staff coming out to 29 percent. “By that measure, the numbers weren’t terrible. Again, they weren’t good enough, so we were working on it,” he says.
In the past few years, a discussion has been brewing that goes well beyond the Coastal Commission about a disconnect between environmental groups on the one side and diversity organizations and communities of color on the other.
The Diversity Green Institute released a report in July 2014 criticizing environmental groups across the country for having embarrassingly white staffs. Called “Green Insider’s Club,” the report examined government agencies, nonprofits and foundations. It recommended that groups institute annual diversity assessments, incorporate goals into performance evaluations and increase resources for new initiatives to work and combat this problem.
“People recognize it. It is alive and well in the nonprofit sector in general and the environmental community in particular,” says Christina Cuevas, the program director for the Community Foundation of Santa Cruz County. “They were just a little late coming to the table on that.”
The foundation, which supports many local environmental groups, has guidelines that nonprofits need to make diversity an issue, both in terms of their own make-up and in terms of the people they reach. It’s important to create environmental stewardship in historically underserved communities like Watsonville, she says. “People making decisions about programs should reflect the community so, that they understand what the community wants and needs,” says Cuevas.
For his part, Lester’s report from February had outlined steps that the Coastal Commission has been taking to change recruitment and outreach strategies. The group, for instance, has ramped up recruiting efforts in the state’s public universities. For one entry-level position, people of color in the applicant field increased to 51 percent, compared to 19 percent less than two years prior.
One of the obstacles to diversity, Lester’s report explained, might be that the coastal communities, where the commission has offices, are often less diverse, more affluent areas with a higher cost of living.
What’s at stake may go beyond the staff itself, though.
Lester feels that, in some ways, the commission works in social justice for its commitment to protecting the coast for all Californians, even those who live within inner-city communities or farther from the coast. He hopes that this focus doesn’t change under a new director, as many people have suggested it might.
“There’s a lot more work to do to building bridges to all of California’s communities, so that people can enjoy the coast more equally,” Lester says. “And that’s just something we’ll have to keep working on. Every time an access way is opened or protected, that’s a step in the right direction. Every time a prohibitive parking restriction shuts down access or somehow prevents people from getting to the beach, that’s a step backwards, and those are the kinds of things we fought against.”
Another criticism lobbed at the commission staff is that it takes too long to process applications. Lester notes that wait time for many approvals dropped significantly after the governor’s office increased its staff a few years ago. He also says that big projects sometimes warrant long waits and that sometimes it’s a developer who creates an impasse.
“You get this narrative created that somehow there’s a problem, when in fact it reflects the necessary process to make sure we’re following the law and protecting the resources as the Coastal Act states,” Lester says. “I’m not saying there aren’t cases where something could have been done more efficiently. Every once in awhile, someone drops the ball. That happens in every organization. But I think overall, if you look at the commission’s record and you look at the data, the commission’s doing a pretty good job.”

Living on the Edge

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From his living room window, Larimore Cummins has watched Santa Cruz’s coastline fall away into the ocean, rock by rock, for nearly 30 years.
Before he sold in 2014, Cummins lived at 1307 West Cliff Drive, a blue house perched on a rocky outcropping, the only residence on the iconic strip’s ocean side.
According to the U.S. Geological Survey (USGS), Santa Cruz County’s bluffs erode around a foot per year—but Cummins says that statistic doesn’t tell the real story.
Cliff retreat is not a slow, steady march eastward, but a series of leapfrogs, occurring in dramatic episodes in various spots, one big chunk at a time.
“It’s so intermittent. It’s asymmetric and discontinuous,” Cummins says.
Unlike much of Santa Cruz’s Westside, his house was on a southeast-facing bluff, relatively sheltered from big waves. Still, twice after large storms in the 1980s and ’90s, he installed large rocks along his cliff edge to underpin the soil and natural rock—an expensive project, he says.
Cummins now lives in Scotts Valley. He’s philosophical about how coastal cities can respond to cliff erosion, opening up big policy questions.
“Should we let nature take its course? Of course, that’s a societal question, and not a scientific question,” Cummins says. “Mother Nature will take its course. The question is, if the first chunk of road goes, and then we have another—do we fix it or do we not?”
 

How Erosion Works

Several factors cause the disappearing act, but the main cause is the repetitive pounding of waves, thousands of times a day, on fragile cliffs, says Gary Griggs, director of UCSC’s Institute of Marine Sciences and a professor of earth sciences, who has studied local erosion for decades.
This winter has the largest waves on record, and wave energy is 30 percent higher than average, according to the USGS.
The bigger the wave and the higher the tide, the greater the damage—and in El Niño years like this one when sea levels rise, the threat of cliff failure also increases.
Another factor is the hardness of the cliffs. North of Santa Cruz to Año Nuevo State Beach, the cliffs are made of tough mudstone, relatively resistant to erosion. But from Santa Cruz’s Almar Avenue south to Rio del Mar, the cliffs are younger and made of softer stuff, says Griggs, a mixture of sand, silt and mud.
These cliffs are more likely to crumble, which is why the bay curves so far inland, Griggs says.
 

Barely successful

Seawalls are the most common defense against erosion. More than 25 percent of the county’s coast is armored, such as at Pleasure Point, where Santa Cruz County Public Works and the county’s now-defunct redevelopment agency completed a 20-year, $10.7 million project in 2014 to repair the bluffs and narrow East Cliff Drive. Another estimated $3.8 million seawall project between 5th and 7th avenues in Santa Cruz goes to bid this spring, after a decade in the making. But these costly, intensive measures are not failsafe, and eventually the ocean wins, says John Presleigh, Santa Cruz County Public Works director.
“We built the seawalls to buy some time, but over a period of 50 years, things change,” Presleigh says. “It’s just a constant. There’s a constant retreat of the cliffs in certain areas that you have to be prepared to deal with.”
Much of Santa Cruz, especially along West Cliff Drive, not only has a seawall, but also thousands of tons of rubble at the wall’s base, meant to absorb the brunt of wave energy. But after the area was battered by large surf this January, a sinkhole opened in a parking lot near Woodrow Avenue and West Cliff Drive. The sinkhole—25 feet deep and 20 feet across—formed after waves crept through a hole at the wall’s base, washing away the sediment, says Mark Dettle, Santa Cruz Public Works Department director. The sinkhole is “fairly stable,” but the department is rushing to get the repairs out to bid before the next series of large waves and high tides.
Dettle says erosion’s forces are relentless—even the large four-to-six-ton pieces of rubble move around in large waves, and the city needs to constantly restack them, he says.
“We’ve been barely successful,” says Dettle. “Not that we’ve had any failures, but there’s no guarantees when you’re dealing with the ocean, because you really don’t know when the storms and high tides line up. We design for that case, but we’re kind of at the mercy of the ocean when a significant storm comes through.”
 

New science

In fall of 2014, USGS began to monitor sand movement along county beaches to help predict coastline change.
The study runs like an orchestrated military operation: Twice a year, scientists walk and drive ATVs down the beaches from Steamer Lane to Moss Landing, taking GPS measurements to form a three-dimensional map. Scientists on jet skis, equipped with echosounders, form a similar map of underwater sand. From planes, scientists take photos and use laser scanning to measure cliff changes.
Patrick Barnard, USGS researcher and one of the project’s leaders, says that beaches are the first natural line of defense against cliff erosion, since on wide beaches, waves are less likely to reach the cliffs. Beaches are seasonal—in the winter, waves pull sand to offshore sandbars, narrowing beaches, and in the summer, sand returns onshore.
The USGS is also measuring another type of sand movement. In the winters, when most of the waves come from the northwest, sand is pushed southward along the shore, until it hits the jetty at Moss Landing, where it tumbles down the Monterey Canyon, deep in the Monterey Bay, essentially lost forever.
Sand is historically replaced by the river outflow, but due to the drought in recent years the amount of sand coming from the rivers has likely dropped, researchers say, which could mean less sand on county beaches.
“As sea level goes up, you need more sand to keep the beaches in their present position,” says Barnard. “So if we’re losing sand, and on top of that, the sea level is going up, we have a double whammy. We have a huge sand deficit. If we look out the next few decades and the next century in particular, we’re going to be in a dire situation.”
This fall, with the help of a local pilot, USGS researcher Jon Warrick began taking monthly aerial photos of the coastline from San Francisco to Monterey.
Warrick says he has not yet seen dramatic erosion this winter in Santa Cruz County. The most obvious changes have been in Pacifica, where the city declared a state of emergency and an apartment building was evacuated after January storms left it teetering on a cliff’s edge.
Capitola’s Depot Hill, Opal Cliffs, Pleasure Point, and Westside of Santa Cruz, typically hot spots for erosion, have so far seemed relatively stable this winter, Warrick says.
However, at Pajaro Dunes south of Watsonville, Warrick says he’s noticed the high tide line nearly reaching some of the houses during big storms, so there’s a potential for flooding.
“You know, we’re kind of in a pickle,” Warrick says. “We have a fantastic town sitting on an eroding cliff. People’s homes and infrastructure, that’s worth a lot of money. It costs a lot of money to have to replace it. We’re really in a difficult place as a community, but it’s a problem that’s echoed in community after community up and down the West Coast.”
 

Adapting to change

For Griggs, seawalls are not a reliable, long-term solution. A wall at Beach Drive in Rio del Mar lasted less than one winter and the timber wall at Seacliff State Beach has been rebuilt nine times in 60 years, he says.
“We cannot hold back 10,000 miles of Pacific Ocean,” says Griggs. “And it’s not about if sea level is rising or not. We know it is rising—it’s about how fast and how soon and how do we adapt to it.”
At some point, people in erosion-prone areas will have to cede to the ocean, Griggs says. For example, after years of trucking sand down Ocean Beach, San Francisco has a plan to move its coastal Great Highway inland, due to bluff retreat.
It’s what happens when coastal cities realize they can’t hold their position any longer, he says.
“It’s managed retreat,” Griggs says. “It’s not something homeowners are excited about, but I guarantee you it’s going to happen—maybe not this year or next year, but we cannot hold back the Pacific Ocean. We’ve got centuries of sea level rise ahead of us. It’s inevitable.”

Pino Alto

Every chef has to learn the culinary arts somewhere.
Some start with their grandmother’s recipes; others travel to Europe to study under internationally renowned chefs. But there is a middle ground, and for a lot of locals, it’s Cabrillo College. Their culinary program is highly respected, and their restaurant, Pino Alto, allows the public to sample the area’s future chefs. Department Chair for Culinary Arts and Hospitality Management Sue Slater gives the lowdown.
GT: It seems like Cabrillo has quite an advanced program for a community college.
SUE SLATER: Probably the reason why you think that is much of the exposure to the community is the advanced classes. The advanced class is the one that does the dinners. But we do start off on a really basic level. When people come into the program, there is a series of classes we recommend they take. Some are prerequisites. The entry-level classes are three five-week classes that mash together into one semester. And that’s what I teach. It’s a culinary theory class. Attached to that lecture portion is the beginning lab, which is the lunch class. It is entry-level students. I’ve had people in my class that have never used a knife, so it’s a lot of work in the beginning to keep them on track. Some of them get jobs out of the first semester, and they go on to start their own things. One of our students is Justin from Kickin Chicken.
How do you pick the menu?
We have three classes that work out of the restaurant. The catering class is not exactly the restaurant, but it works out of the restaurant. The beginning class is kind of a survey of international foods. Every week we have a different style of cuisine. We want to expose students to other ways of thinking about food because some people are just stuck in their home kitchen. Yesterday we had snapper piccata and portobello mushrooms. One student said, “I’ve never had fish and I’ve never had mushrooms.” This was continental cuisine. But we also have Italian, Middle Eastern, we’ve got Indian, we’ve got French. We’ve got a lot of different types of food that aren’t complicated, but they get the flavor and the spices and the feel of what that cuisine is. The beginning class changes every week. The advanced class changes every four weeks. For the advanced class, the instructor picks the menu for the first four weeks and then the students start menu planning. Usually the last grouping is tapas, and then the students pick the middle four-week block. The middle thing is usually the more fun things that the students want to do. We never know what that’s going to be.


6500 Soquel Drive, Aptos; 479-6524.

A Man Possessed

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Konrad Wert has been a performing musician for 10 years. But it wasn’t until June of last year that he committed to going full-time—specifically, being on the road for weeks or months at a time.
Rather than hitting the road by himself and leaving his wife and two children behind, however, the singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist, who performs as Possessed by Paul James, brings the family along with him. The four are on a year-long experiment to determine whether life on the road could work for them. They live in an RV, homeschooling the children, driving from gig to gig, and seeing the country as they go. When asked how it’s going, Wert says that they’re enjoying the experience, but he’s not sure how long it will last.
“My wife and I love the adventure,” he says by phone from the RV, “and the children have a fantastic time, but every kid needs a grounded community to blossom. We think we can get by for a year.”
Living a life of simplicity is not a new experience for the Florida-born Wert. The singer-songwriter was raised in a small Mennonite community with a focus on simplicity, service and pacifism. When asked if he still identifies with the Mennonite religion, he says that while he doesn’t consider himself part of the Christian religion any longer, he very much identifies culturally with the Mennonites.
“It’s very service-oriented,” he says. “The intent is to serve others in need with your skills.”
For Wert, being of service means teaching. Before hitting the road full-time, he spent years as a special education teacher in Texas. He continues his service by lecturing about special education reform at stops along the way and working with a film crew on a documentary film about the state of special education in the U.S. He juggles this with being an energetic and engaged musician who gives all he has during performances.
A longtime musician who picked up the violin in fourth grade, Wert had added the viola and double bass to his wheelhouse by eighth grade. He considered studying strings in college, but a teacher gave him some tough love that set him on a different course.
“One of my teachers said, ‘Your skill level won’t ever progress to where you’d like it to be as a professional, classically trained viola player or violinist,’” Wert recalls. “But then he said, ‘Your passion’s great, though. Don’t ever let go of your passion.’”
When he plays, Wert’s passion is, indeed, revealed. His music is full of what matters most to him: love, family, community, connection, being human. And he delivers his songs from a deep place, with eyes closed, head shaking, fiddle bow flying, and emotions bared.
When he talks about performing, Wert speaks of “we.” When asked about who that refers to, he says that, among other things, it’s his family and ancestors.
“It feels best when we share by just closing our eyes and trying to shake out the little anxieties that pop up in your head when you play,” he says. “If a note sounds kind of funny or you missed a note when you sing, you try not to worry about any of those things. You try to just convey what’s out there.”
Another way Wert honors his family is with the name Possessed by Paul James. Paul was his grandfather’s name, and James is his father’s middle name. The name also gave Wert sufficient cover from a Texas rule that teachers can’t moonlight—“especially when it’s in circles that might be unsavory for the state,” he says.
“In many of the small towns in Texas,” Wert explains, “there is truly no separation between church and state. However districts would like to spin it, there’s very much a bias if you delineate out of that wholesome presence as a schoolteacher.”
Wert has an album slated for release in early 2017, but in the meantime he has his hands full with being on the road, lecturing, working on the documentary, writing songs, and performing from a soul level.
“We close our eyes and find comfort in the darkness,” he says. “[We] try to get lost in that darkness a little bit so we’re not so concerned about the trivial things.”


Possessed by Paul James will perform at 7:30 p.m. on Wednesday, March 9 at Don Quixote’s, 6275 Hwy. 9, Felton. $15. 335-2800.

Reviving Rumi

Eight-hundred years ago Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī wrote down his retelling of a widely told story: a group of men bring an elephant into a dark room. They touch different parts of the animal and relay what they believe they are sensing.
“They each describe the elephant from their own perspective, which is the way that human beings describe the divine, from their own perspective,” says Suzanne Sturn, who has adapted poems and stories from Rumi’s Masnavi for her production Rumi on Stage. “Rumi writes that all perspectives about the divine are all part of the essence of the divine, which cannot be really articulated.”
“We’re limited, but we do have the capacity to intuit,” she says, pointing out that his stories touch on the human journey, and trying to understand the nature of the divine as well as the source from where we come.
Sturn says it has always made sense to her to put Rumi’s works on stage.
“For most of the history of theater in the world, the stage has been a place which is a kind of fresh spot between this place and the other world,” says Sturn. “It has been and is, in many parts of the world—a sacred space, not just for entertainment, but as a place to inquire and go through our relationship with, whatever you want to call it—the world of the spirit, the unconscious place to explore, people’s question of the universe.”
Sturn’s Rumi On Stage begins March 4 and runs through March 20 at Center Stage in Santa Cruz. It will feature musicians, costumes, actors, dancers, masks, and puppets channeling Rumi’s Persian origins. Incorporating dance is an especially appropriate way to breathe life into Rumi’s poetry, says Sturn.
“Dance is a natural way to express that which cannot be put into words. So is the mask and so are puppets,” she says. “All of these things together are useful in gleaning the invisible world onto the visible stage.”
Rumi was one of the first to infuse his Sufi teachings with the idea that movement can provide a unique harmony for meditation and prayer. His principles on revolving in remembrance of God led to the creation of the Mevlevi Order, or, more commonly known as the whirling dervishes. Sufi was a man of all trades, gaining popularity both during his lifetime and posthumously as a poet, jurist, Islamic scholar, theologian, and Sufi mystic.
The dance aspect of Rumi on Stage was put together by the classically trained Persian dancer Nasrin Hosainy and local modern dancer Sharon Took-Zozaya to music by Amir Etemadzadeh
with singers Jihan Amer and Lori Rivera—it’s a fusion of traditional classics with local talent, says Sturn.
Before coming to Santa Cruz, Sturn was the executive director of a theater company in Minneapolis where she spent years exploring Japanese noh dance. To Sturn, masks can play a poignant role in theater, as they have in classical theater all over the world from ancient times to the present.
“The mask helped express that which is deeper than the everyday ordinary personality—that’s what the mask can do and that spirit is absolutely at the foundation of Western theater and Greek theater, lots of experimental theater now,” says Sturn. “It’s been used a lot to evoke character, great symbolic significance. Rumi and Shams are really that—they are like awakened spiritual masters.”
Shams-e Tabrizi and Rumi met on Nov. 15 in 1244. Meeting Shams inspired Rumi’s shift from the life of a teacher and jurist to one of asceticism. Their incredibly close friendship was the topic of much of Rumi’s poetry, which, after Shams mysteriously disappeared, became the focus of an immense outpouring of lyric poems including Divan-e Shams-e Tabrizi.
Sturn says she discovered Rumi and his teachings of Sufism nearly four decades ago when she worked with poet Robert Bly in Minneapolis. As a follower of Sufism, Sturn spent 10 years studying the six-volume Masnavi with local Sufi shaikh, Kabir Helminski, so creating and directing this show is a completion of a circle.
In 2015 Rumi was still the best-selling poet in the U.S. which begs the question of why a man who wrote centuries before the time of electricity, cars, the Internet, and all modern reference points has any relevance to readers today?
“He just transcends the boundaries of narrow religiosity and he just really speaks to the deepest part of our humanity,” says Sturn. “All I hope is that this might evoke a bit—if it evokes something—a breath, a fragrance of Rumi’s vision of love and union and beauty. That would be a good thing.”


Info: 2 and 8 p.m. March 2-6, 11-13, 18-20. Center Stage, 1001 Center St., Santa Cruz. $20 at Bookshop Santa Cruz or brownpapertickets.com.

From The Editor

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Coastal Shake-Up Clouded in Secrecy

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The surf is pounding Twin Lakes State Beach just yards from Katherine O’Dea, executive director of Save Our Shores, who is sitting on a log by a rocky jetty.
The beach is, at most, a five-minute walk from the Save Our Shores office at the Santa Cruz Harbor, and this sandy destination is hardly a sliver of the 1,100 miles of California shoreline that is protected and open to everyone, thanks to a California ballot measure passed in 1972. After a recent shakeup at the California Coastal Commission, which is charged with protecting the coast, O’Dea worries that the future of California’s shores may soon be in limbo.
“Everyone does at least have the potential for access, even though everyone doesn’t access it,” says O’Dea, who has lived on the East Coast from Maryland to New Hampshire. “Even around here, there’s a lot of people who never get to the beach. We have that potential. On the East Coast, a lot of it is bought up. Private land—you can’t access the coast for miles, hundreds of miles. So, to have this is an incredible treasure. If we don’t protect it, we’re just insane. It’s insane.”
The disruption that has O’Dea flummoxed is the firing of Coastal Commission executive director Charles Lester on a 7-5 commission vote. It isn’t clear what exactly is behind the decision to lay off Lester. Commissioners spoke in vague terms about what he could have done better, and the group conducted part of its latest meeting, held in Morro Bay, in closed session.
With so little explanation and so much secrecy, it’s hard not to think that there may be something nefarious afoot. Environmentalists, like State Assemblymember Mark Stone (D-Scotts Valley), are worried that pro-development money and professional lobbyists are behind the change.
“There’s long been a tension between the lobbyists who go there [and the commission],” says Stone, a former coastal commissioner himself. “And there have been some very strong relationships with certain commissioners—take them out to lunch, take them out to dinner.”
It’s difficult to track lobbying’s influence on the body, because Coastal Commission lobbyists don’t have to identify themselves—although Stone, along with two other lawmakers, introduced a bill two days after Lester’s firing that would force them to register as lobbyists.
For Lester’s Feb. 10 hearing, Stone and O’Dea both drove to Morro Bay—along with over 600 Californians eager to defend Lester. Beginning immediately after the meeting, O’Dea says she went through several stages of grief, starting with disbelief. Lester, who lives in Santa Cruz, could not be reached for comment for this story.
Locally, the commission and its staff have not been immune from criticism in recent years, taking flack for what some called a series of overreaches. Cyclists were up in arms when the commission sent the Arana Gulch Multi-Use Trail back to the drawing board in 2010. The following year, politicians like Lynn Robinson and Ryan Coonerty criticized the commission when it rejected plans for the La Bahia Hotel.
Stone thinks each of those proposals came back as better projects before ultimately getting approved by the commission—as 80 percent of projects eventually do. He says much of the power of the commission is in negotiating, and he worries that the art of working with developers will be lost under the commission’s next director.
Fred Keeley, a former Santa Cruz County treasurer and lawmaker, agrees that the group’s negotiating power could be at stake. He fears that the ultimate result of Lester’s firing will be new developments benefiting no one but the rich, and leaving large portions of the coast blocked off to the rest of Californians.
The Coastal Commission has 12 members, with eight appointed by the state legislature. Four more are appointed by Gov. Jerry Brown, who chose not to intervene in this matter, calling it “a personnel issue” in the days leading up to the vote. That didn’t sit well with Keeley and other environmentalists.
Keeley notes that Brown, whose four appointees all voted to fire Lester, is the only person who has the power to change his appointments any time he wants.
“Because the governor’s appointees serve at the pleasure of the governor, the governor must agree with what his appointees did,” Keeley explains. “He’s the only appointing authority who could do something about it if he did disagree. And to me, this is an incredibly important decision. This is not a land-use decision. This is the heart and soul of the Coastal Commission.”
Stone says that the governor “should be embarrassed” of what transpired.
Ocean lovers are anxious to see how the Coastal Commission weighs in on Martins Beach in San Mateo County, where Bay Area billionaire Vinod Khosla bought land two years ago. Khosla has closed a road to the beach, cutting off coastal access.
The firing of one person, of course, doesn’t mean that Santa Cruz’s beaches may become overrun with high-rise housing complexes anytime soon. Former Coastal Commissioner Gary Patton says that Measure J, which voters approved in 1978, should provide a framework for protecting natural areas, including beaches.
Former Santa Cruz mayor Mike Rotkin says most politicians in the county are very environmentally sensitive and that noticeable changes would be more likely in Southern California or Eureka County.
O’Dea, who has been at Save Our Shores for four months, says that the commissioners probably did not anticipate how Lester’s firing would put them under a microscope.
“No one in the environmental community is sitting back and saying, ‘Oh well, we tried,’” she says. “Everyone is still fired up. Everyone is still angry. So, it’s not going to get swept under the rug. If that was their intent to rule without much oversight, it’s not going to happen.”

Path Finder

Peggy Dolgenos is 1,000 percent committed to connectivity. At the epicenter of all things Cruzio, Dolgenos seeks not only faster, bigger cyber connections for her community, but also enriched real-world connections among the clients she serves.
Cruzio, started up 26 years ago by Dolgenos and her partner (in life and in business) Chris Neklason, is a rare and feisty independent entity. Competing successfully in the Internet Service Provider arena of big companies like AT&T and Comcast, Cruzio aims to provide even higher-speed low-cost Internet access in the very near future.
The santacruzfiber.com project is all about getting gigabit high-speed, low-cost Internet—currently available in the Cruzio headquarters on Cedar Street—to the greater Santa Cruz community. With enough buy-in from residential and business users, the gigabit (a thousand megabits per second) fiber optic initiative would lay fiber to provide data uploading and downloading at speeds currently available only through costly large telecom providers. The difference is that this service would be locally owned and independently operated. “Enough people will have to sign up, we need buy-in,” Dolgenos explains. “The more subscribers, the lower the fees. We’ll be able to provide from 10 to 100 times the speed for the same money.”
Cruzio’s fiber connectivity benefited from the time when UCSC wanted to bring fiber to its campus. “That gave us the opportunity to work with the same company to bring fiber all the way down into the City of Santa Cruz,” says Dolgenos. “Cruzio’s connection is private and separate from UCSC’s—we’re leasing lines that go along the same path as the lines UCSC is leasing.” Currently, Cruzio has “the best connected building in the county,” but now Dolgenos has set her sights on “fibering up” the rest of the Santa Cruz community. “It’s such a good project. We approached the city about partnering with us, and they said yes. We believe in it—it seems right to offer it to everyone. There’s an economy of scale to doing it all at once, and reaching out to regions beyond the downtown.” And, yes, that means Dolgenos would like everyone to take the gigabit project survey.
“We were always open to big things, to big projects,” Dolgenos recalls. “We were both computer programmers for Santa Cruz Operation. And we thought we were going to change media, from a broadcast paradigm to one that empowered the user.”
When she was growing up, the Cruzio CEO admits, “I wanted to be so many things, an engineer, an artist, a writer, a boss of a company—and now I get to do all of those things.”
Originally from New York, the tall woman with a firm handshake and a soothing smile, moved out here “because just look at it! I fell in love with the Bay Area and Santa Cruz,” she says.
Armed with a degree in Administrative Systems from Yale, Dolgenos took a second degree at UCSC in Computer Science. “I was always a bit late getting on board with technology. But I saw what it could do. And I wanted to empower people,” she says. And so 26 years ago, the region’s independent Internet Service Provider—Cruzio—was launched. “We were one of the first to offer email to everybody. Everybody should have this, I thought, and not just those in universities or government bureaucracies. Being progressive means you believe in positive change,” she says. Her delivery is simultaneously calm, upbeat, and compelling. “I believe businesses should be Utopian, make good things happen. The Internet has done that. On the other hand,” she laughs, “we didn’t foresee spam, and neither did the creators of email.”
“We used phone lines, at first, to transmit data,” she explains, recalling the sounds of dial-up modems reverberating through the garage that was Cruzio’s first home and company incubator. “The epicenter of the business was our garage until 1993. We couldn’t take a vacation for many years,” she says.
Running the business together works out well, Dolgenos believes, “because we’re very different. We help each other out. Chris has more of an engineer’s temperament, things either fit or they don’t. I’m much more comfortable with ambiguity. I’m interested in a lot of things, which is good for entrepreneurs.” Dolgenos was appointed for the past two years as director of the Santa Cruz County Business Council. “If you’ve been interested in a lot of things, you can think about solutions from many points of view.”
Dolgenos refers frequently to “our community,” by which she means the Cruzio community and its subscribers. “We couldn’t do this as easily anywhere else. We are so lucky,” she says, “because our community welcomes an independent company.”
The best part of all? “Our staff,” says Dolgenos. “We have about 30 employees. I love them all. And our co-working spaces are great—we can take advantage of all of the shared interests of other geek heads. We can find out what they’re doing.” And now, with her three children out of the house, and thanks to “having great people to take care of things 24/7,” Dolgenos can actually take vacations. santacruzfiber.com.


CRUZIN’ NETWORK Peggy Dolgenos of Cruzio Internet in the Cruzioworks coworking space in downtown Santa Cruz. PHOTO: CHIP SCHEUER

Form Transformed

Local fans of cutting-edge contemporary dance know that catching the best and brightest onstage often means a trip to San Francisco, but this time the city is coming to us. If the Tannery World Dance & Cultural Center’s (TWDCC) founder and executive director, Cat Willis, has anything to say about it, the trend will continue.
TWDCC is presenting its Winter Dance Fest in the new Colligan Theater at the Tannery on Saturday, Feb. 27, and promises a dazzling blend of artistry, athleticism and innovation.
“The idea behind presenting a winter dance fest has been elevated by the theater—and this show is about presenting excellence in its purist form,” says Willis. “We’ve brought together two tour-de-force, high-powered dancers and choreographers to show that this stage is worthy of that. It’s thrilling.”
Acclaimed dancer, choreographer, and artistic director of Dawson Dance SF, Gregory Dawson, will launch the Santa Cruz premier of his triptych work, “Dent-Drop-Bend.” Schooled in the sculptural grace of ballet and mentored by brash dance experimentalist Elizabeth Streb, Dawson stretches the language of dance to reflect his multi-faceted point of view, his choreography challenging the use of the body in space. Nominated for an Isadora Duncan Award, he has been called “risk-taking,” and “muscularly elegant” by the San Francisco Chronicle.
“‘Dent-Drop-Bend’ works with texture, shapes, color, video, and imagery,” says Dawson. “Often when I work with my dancers, it’s a collaborative effort, but with this construct, it’s me as director and composer being very specific about what I want. The process took a year. Our dancers are very physical. The motion is constant. We stripped the space of its elements because we wanted the audience to imagine what could be done within the spectrum of the proscenium.”
His visual sensibility is angular yet supple, his description of his work often painterly. Dawson says that he tends to write his own scores, working with a technician to make what he hears in his head come to life. The effect onstage is percussive, primal, an expression of form and potential.
“I visualize a lot before I put it on a person. I record sounds I want to hear,” says Dawson. “Sometimes the title comes first, sometimes the movement, sometimes a shape or a line.”
He notes the influence of mentors like Streb and Alonzo King of Lines Ballet, but adds that everything feeds his vision.
“You see or hear something and it becomes inherent inside of you. You read a book and it takes up residence somewhere in your psyche. They all combine with who you are as a person and affect what comes out.”
Local dancer and choreographer, Micha Scott, will open the program with her new venture, Empire Dance Company, and their latest work, “It’s About Time.”
“It captures the fluidity of what was, what will be, and what is,” she says.
It’s also multi-generational, featuring Scott’s two daughters alongside other dancers in the company.
“They’re amazingly gifted dancers, and this piece really tells the story of Empire, what it means to carry on dance within a family,” says Willis. “It’s a powerful thing within the context of the stage, to see Micha and her daughters individually but also in terms of continuity. Their physicality alone is mind blowing.”
Scott returns to her experience as a dancer when talking about her development as choreographer: “I love to challenge myself and my dancers, to push us forward in our capacity as artists. I bring my whole self to my art form, and I strive to be utterly open.”
Willis hopes to bring more world and contemporary artists to Santa Cruz during seasonal runs in the fall and winter.
“With the ethnic dance festival in the fall, it’s our time to curate world artists, those that live here in Santa Cruz along with national and international artists,” says Willis. “In the winter, I hope to exhibit contemporary artists and artists of color working in the local contemporary dance community.”
Willis also wants to exhibit artists who might not have a platform to present work in nontraditional ways.
“I’m really trying to elevate those voices in Santa Cruz,” she says.
TWDCC is crucial in promoting alternatives and diversity in the local dance community, says Willis.
“I’m a woman of color raising a family here. I’m an artist. I’m bringing what I want to see more of in this town,” she says. “That’s always been my goal. It makes our city vibrant.”
Her background in New York informs her point of view.
“It’s a place of incredible economic, racial, and political diversity,” she says. “I want to create those unexpected intersections here.”
Willis notes how the presence of diversity alone brings in more of it, how it has a cascading effect: Politics soften, communities broaden, and the arts thrive. Dawson and Scott, both artists of color, are exhilarating expressions of the waterfall. Willis is thrilled to be part of the process, she says, especially here—in a town that has embraced her passion and vision.
“I tell people all the time, I could not have built this organization anywhere else,” she says. “There’s something special about this place.”


Info: 7:30-10 p.m., Feb. 27. Colligan Theater, Tannery Arts Center, 1010 River St., Santa Cruz. $15-$45. 227-6770.

Family Folk

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On Regina Carter’s family tree, there is a blank spot where her maternal grandfather should be. Growing up, no one talked about him and when she asked, family members wouldn’t tell her anything.
“A lot of my aunts and uncles will just say they didn’t remember him,” she says. “How do you not remember your father? I knew there was something there. There’s a reason people are not remembering and I have to get to the bottom.”
Carter finally found a relative who would share stories about her grandfather with her and answer her questions. When asked if she found what she was looking for from the stories, she simply says, “I did.”
Filling in the details of her family story led Carter to a familiar place: music. A born musician who was playing the piano by the age of 3 and took up the violin at 4, Carter is now a world-renowned jazz violinist in the lineage of greats, including Stéphane Grappelli, Billy Bang and Stuff Smith.
Carter turned to folk songs from the late-1800s in an attempt to connect with her grandfather. In particular, field recordings from the Alan Lomax collection and music from the Alabama Folklife Association provided a glimpse into what her grandfather’s life might have been like. It also inspired a musical project that would become her ninth solo album, Southern Comfort.
The album is a haunting reworking of old folk and gospel tunes, spirituals, ballads, children’s songs, and blues, brought to life with Carter’s soulful and lovely playing. The album showcases familiar tunes, including “Trampin,” “See See Rider,” and “Honky Tonkin’,” as well as lesser-known ones such as “Blues de Basile” and “Cornbread Crumbled in Gravy.”
Where many of the field recordings are single voices, or a group of voices, Carter and her band draw out unexpected elements of the tunes, with crashing drums, accordion, electric guitar and, of course, Carter’s violin leading the way. The result is an emotional and personal exploration of the past, through the lens of modern styles and tools. When Carter plays the songs live, she plays snippets of the original raw and scratchy field recordings to give the audience context.
“Listening to the songs was a way of transporting me,” she says. “It’s my way to make a connection to who [my grandfather] might have been with a little bit of information that I had—to try to understand what life might have been like.”
Born and raised in Detroit, Carter traveled to the South with her family in the summertimes to visit relatives. Those visits provided stark contrast for a city girl. There were no sidewalks, no TV, and everyone used outhouses. The trips were also an opportunity to connect with the folk music of her family and extended community. Carter has vivid memories of singalongs with her family and friends. As she recalls, someone would start playing the piano or pull out a guitar, and whoever was around would join in singing.
“I call it folk music,” she says. “Nothing I would even remember today. I just remember it as a gathering—just what was happening.” She adds with a laugh, “We didn’t have TV, we really had to just deal with each other.”
Since Southern Comfort, Carter has been touring and performing the songs for audiences around the world. Her next project, which is still in the very early stages, is a tribute to Ella Fitzgerald. Carter wants to find and bring to light tunes that are less well-known than the standards the great jazz vocalist recorded.
For Carter, who does volunteer hospice work and regularly plays for people in nursing homes and hospitals, music is a gift that enables us to connect with one another in a very intimate way. The project is another way to connect with music as a means to transport ourselves and honor those who have gone before, she says.
“It puts everything in perspective,” she says. “We always say, ‘Oh, music is so powerful and so moving.’ It sounds like a cliche, but it is. It’s real. When you have those moments, you know it.”


7 p.m. & 9 p.m., Monday, Feb. 29. Kuumbwa Jazz, 320-2 Cedar St., Santa Cruz. 427-2227. $30-$35.

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