By Erin Sherbert
By Erin Sherbert
By Leif Haven
By Erin Sherbert
By Chris Roberts
By Kate Conger
By Brian Rinker
By Rachel Swan
The official guidebook to San Francisco politics goes like this: On one side of the political isle are "progressives," including many of the members of the Board of Supervisors, who see their job as protecting ordinary citizens and their families from profit-hungry "downtown" business interests. On the other is our mayor, Gavin Newsom, and his fellow "moderates," MBA-minded sharpies who struggle to promote economic and jobs growth, despite sabotage from ultra-left-wingers bent on making San Francisco a Stalinist experiment.
This narrative, of San Francisco in the throes of ideological bipolar syndrome, suits all its protagonists.
Barbarians-at-the-gate rhetoric draws donors, volunteers, and popular support to both camps. Battlefield hyperbole also allows players on both sides to explain away suspect behavior. When Chris Daly pries $50 million out of the developers of Rincon Hill condominium towers to enrich political cronies, as he did last year -- it's not political payola. It's part of a larger struggle on behalf of the poor and oppressed against downtown economic interests. When Gavin Newsom advocates on behalf of a $1 billion Treasure Island project backed by Democratic moneyman Darius Anderson, it's not pay-to-play cronyism. It's advancing the cause of economic development in the face of left-leaning Luddites.
There's another guidebook, however, released last week in the form of an audit report of the Recreation and Park Department, that tells a different story.
This far more revealing narrative describes a San Francisco run by competing groups of cronies willing to dispense with principle if it means remaining loyal to members of their own political faction. According to this de facto guidebook of San Francisco politics, city fathers here, both left and centrist, aren't driven by principle, but by the needs of their respective tribes.
The Recreation and Park audit shows how progressive supervisors did little to stop a $16 million Professional Golfers' Association tournament boondoggle that has sucked funds from parks used by ordinary people. Why didn't they stop it? Tony Hall, a former supervisor whose independent streak made him a frequent ally and friend to progressive supervisors, was behind the mess. And the rule at city hall says no stepping on pals' toes.
The mayor's underlings, meanwhile, carried out the golf project with such incompetence as to cost the city millions of dollars in price overruns, loan-repayment expenses, and money wagered on disadvantageous contracts with golf-tournament promoters and course managers.
How could a mayor who touts himself as a pencil-sharpening policy geek ever lead taxpayers into such a fix?
That's easy: If ever there were a cause inspiring blind excitement among the fat-cat crowd the mayor hangs with, it's golf.
I hate to gloat. No. Wait. I love it.
In a February 2002 column titled "Sand Trap," I wrote how San Francisco's city fathers were embarking upon a boondoggle diverting tens of millions of dollars that had been earmarked to benefit low-income park users. The money would fund a county supervisor's fanciful dream of turning San Francisco's seven public and five private golf courses into a Pacific Rim golf-tourism attraction à la Monterey. This would come about after the city spent millions to spruce up Harding Park Golf Course to PGA standards, and thus attract a tournament featuring Tiger Woods. From a fiscal standpoint, this turned into an even bigger debacle than I had predicted.
A couple weeks after the October 2005 golf tournament had finished, I asked a park spokeswoman to give me a full picture of what I had suspected was a financial smashup for S.F. taxpayers. She assured me the tournament had made money, and that criticisms saying money had been improperly diverted into this fiasco were unfair.
I wrote a column last October called "The Money Went Fore What?" ascribing responsibility for what looked every bit like a money-losing disaster to San Francisco's chief executive, Gavin Newsom, who's responsible for hiring, firing, and allotting money to the administrators who first carried out the golf project and then misled the public about its results.
This is usually about as far as things go when SF Weekly highlights government foolishness or wrongdoing.
But last week, the Board of Supervisors budget analyst issued what was supposed to have been a routine audit of the Recreation and Park Department. It arrived as a scathing exposé of the financial disaster caused by Tony Hall's golf fantasy, the one approved by the progressive-dominated Board of Supervisors.
The project was supposed to cost $16 million, much of that drawn from a state fund earmarked to maintain safe neighborhood parks for "heavily populated and economically disadvantaged areas." It was supposed to earn profits for the city.
Instead, the audit report shows, this golf scheme was such a money-loser that it could jeopardize, for years, the possibility of properly maintaining parks citywide.
For one, golf tourism never materialized. Sure, more golfers paid greens fees at the spruced-up Harding Park. But fee income at other city courses plummeted. Local duffers were simply taking their game across town to the nicer course.