News Analysis

Twelve years of labor-relations peace between the classroom teachers of Santa Monica/Malibu and the school district continued unraveling this past week. More than 300 teachers, among them 40 or 50 from Malibu, rallied outside a school board meeting May 26. Although some hesitated to call it picketing, there were protest signs a plenty. Teachers union officials indicated this massive show of support should signal to the school board the teachers meant business.

The teachers union and the district have been trying to negotiate a new contract, but negotiations appeared to have stalemated in March. Since then, both sides have met with a state mediator with, so far, little progress shown. They’re due to meet again this week.

The principal points of contention appear to be salary issues and contract issues.

The union has always negotiated for the classroom teachers, the substitute teachers, the child care teachers and adult education teachers as one unit. Now the district, in a move that hasn’t happened before, is making separate offers of 5.75 percent raise for classroom teachers and a 3 percent raise for substitutes and others, which some in the union view as an attempt by the district to split the union.

The situation was apparently exacerbated by the fact that the board already gave the superintendent a raise of almost 12 percent and other administrators a raise that averaged 9.5 percent. Assistant district superintendent Joseph Quarles was quoted in the L.A. Times as saying these raises were approved to “correct past inequities” in the way that similarly qualified administrators were paid. However, Beth Muir, Teachers Association president, indicated that wasn’t how the union viewed it. She said that in a recent L.A. County study, which ranks all 47 school districts in the county, the SMMUSD administrators finished second out of 47 in their rate of pay, while the teachers ranked 44 out of 47. The district disputes this interpretation of the numbers.

Ann Payne, a teacher at Point Dume Marine Science Elementary School, said the impasse has begun to impact Malibu and teachers are grumbling for the first time in nearly 20 years. Board President Margaret Quirones was quoted as saying there is no pecking order within the system, however, the perception among the teachers is that when the superintendent gets an 11 percent raise and the substitute teachers are offered a 3 percent raise, there most definitely is a pecking order.

Another major issue is the board’s attempt to link the pay raise to the kindergarten teachers increasing the length of the kindergarten day by 90 minutes from the present 210 minutes per day. Some in the union claim this is because the daycare program, which they view as top heavy with administrators, is beginning to lose money, and they believe the district is trying to pick up part of those costs by lengthening the kindergarten day. The district denies this emphatically and points to the fact that the Santa Monica-Malibu PTA Council unanimously voted earlier this year to support a longer kindergarten day.

Whatever the outcome, it seems clear that the “collaborative, consensus building process” that was designed 12 years ago in a process that was titled a “win-win” program appears to be coming to an end, and the teachers and the school district appear to be entering a newer, more confrontational type of relationship.

In an effort to win a density bonus for a large self-storage facility it has proposed for Cross Creek Road, the project’s developer, Mariposa Land Company, came to the Planning Commission last week bearing gifts for the city.

But the commissioners found the offer of public benefits — including a grant of $100,000 for ball fields — not quite generous enough and declined the gifts, as well as the request for additional square footage. While the commissioners approved a smaller version of the project, planned for just north of Civic Center Way, the commission in effect left the City Council to decide what type and amount of public benefits would merit a bonus density.

In refusing the gifts — which also included the removal of invasive vegetation from adjacent state park land and the execution of an open-space deed restriction to prevent further development on the parcel — the commissioners expressed a lack of satisfaction with what Mariposa’s Grant Adamson had offered the city.

Commissioner Ken Kearsley and Vice Chair Andrew Stern said the $100,000 was not adequate. “I think $100,000 is too low,” said Stern. “I’d like at least $200,000.”

The commissioners also said they were uncomfortable with Mariposa’s suggestion that the money be held by a third party, such as People Achieving Recreation & Community Services (PARCS) for the benefit of the city. “We have to have some hand in it,” said Kearsley.

Other commissioners insisted that a public benefit should mitigate the impacts of a development. “The money for playing fields is nice, but I don’t see how it benefits the surrounding area,” said Chair Jo Ruggles.

Commissioner Charleen Kabrin echoed that sentiment. “I’d like to see it tied to a comprehensive improvement of the area around the site,” she said.

Sensing the commission would not agree on whether the right type of public benefit had been offered, planning staff member Drew Purvis, sitting in for a vacationing Planning Director Craig Ewing, suggested the City Council should negotiate over public benefits. Commissioner Ed Lipnick, who said he did not even know whether a gift of cash was appropriate, agreed.

“I’m uncomfortable with this,” he said. “It’s a policy issue that is best settled at the City Council level.” The commission then unanimously approved the project at 42,275 square feet, three-quarters the size of that originally proposed. Mariposa is expected to appeal the denial of the larger size project to the council and once again seek an exchange of public benefits for a bonus density.

There’s an old term at the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department called “20/20” retirement. That’s when 20 minutes after your 20th year you put in for your pension. But Sheriff Leroy D. Baca is in his 34th year and is still picking up steam.

Baca addressed the Malibu Bar Association meeting last week at Duke’s. “I’d like to see the return of the Malibu Sheriff’s Station,” he said. “It would localize and personalize law enforcement in the community. I’m not suggesting that Lost Hills isn’t handling the job effectively, I’m just saying Lost Hills isn’t Malibu, and Malibu isn’t Lost Hills.”

Making the world’s largest Sheriff’s Department feel and work like a small-town precinct appears to be his primary goal. “When people pick up that phone, I want them to know who they’re talking to.”

Dressed in a deputy’s uniform rather than an Armani suit, Baca quickly explained, “I wear the uniform several times a week to show respect for the deputies in my command.” On occasion, he makes an arrest, “backed up by real deputies, of course. I’m not crazy.”

Born and raised in East Los Angeles, and with a doctorate in public administration from USC, he heads the largest sheriff’s department in the world, with nearly 14,000 sworn and civilian personnel.

Among his many plans is a project that sends inmates to remove graffiti and plant flowers along freeways and in city parks. “I’m not saying I don’t believe in punishment,” said Baca. “I do. But if a person’s spending time in the county jail system, they should be doing something productive with that time.”

As for the cost of these programs? From inmates’ telephone use and from sales at prison stores, Baca has generated $30 million so far. “What could make more sense for the county then to have a person pay for his own rehabilitation?”

“I try hard to instill that sense of leadership in every deputy,” he said. “I may be the guy in charge, but each and every person in the department is expected to be a leader. To be fair, to follow a set of core values, to do the right thing.”

Baca stated the vast majority of his employees are right on track, and for that very small percentage who, for whatever reason, choose a path of defiance, “they will be weeded out and replaced. There are too many good people waiting in line for their jobs. I will not tolerate racism, sexism, bigotry and anti-Semitism in my department.”

Our new sheriff plans to “bird dog” violent gang members wherever they go. “Just like in Littleton, when that deputy started firing back, the boys retreated. Same with the gangs. They don’t shoot at us, they run. They know we’re better shots than they are.”

As for guns in schools, the sheriff said, “You bring a gun to school, we arrest you. We’ll do what we can to help you get a diploma, but you’ll never go back to that school.”

Speaking about the shooting in Littleton, Colo., he said, “What the press rarely reports is that there was a deputy at the school. When the shooting began, the deputy was able to fire back, causing the perpetrators to hide in the library. I believe if it weren’t for that deputy, perhaps twice as many people might have been killed.”

Baca plans to have a deputy in every school. Thanks to the reserve deputy program, it’s imminent. “It involves 160 hours of training, but becoming a reserve deputy is a real asset to the community. We get requests every day, some from people such as Steven Seagal and Jay Leno.”

To celebrate the department’s 150th anniversary, Baca said, “We need a float in the Rose Parade. A huge, magnificent float. We’ll call it ‘The Kids Are Our Future.'” He’s got an award-winning designer working on it.

Apparently, no one ever told Baca becoming sheriff was no bed of roses.

Guadalcanal, Iwo Jima, Okinawa — these amphibious assaults during World War II upon Japanese-held redoubts stand out in the nation’s memory, perhaps. The rest of the some dozens of invasions of Japanese strongholds in the vast Pacific theater have by now faded into the annals of battles.

But one stands out in my memory, scarcely recalled by any except the participants — Tarawa, an equatorial atoll. It was my first battle experience as a landing-craft officer, responsible for landing assault troops on enemy-held beachheads.

In November 1943, the nation was shocked to see photos in Life magazine of “Bloody Tarawa,” as it was promptly termed, of U.S. Marine dead — taken before the burial crews did their clean-up work — of corpses floating in the water, of others sprawled on the seawall, of still others huddled near the stump of a coconut palm. This was warfare close up — almost a tactile experience for the nation. Never before had the public seen a display of carnage, such horrors, of dead Americans. But then there were other battles and less graphic photos. Tarawa faded with time.

The key to victory over the Japanese was command of Pacific Oceana. An important factor in the battle plans of the U.S. Navy High Command was the seizure of certain Central Pacific islands en route to the Japanese homeland. The Tarawa atoll, with a landing strip on one of its islands, Betio, was selected as the first in the island-hopping campaign.

It is impossible for me to shake loose from my memory even the most trivial details of the battle for Tarawa: The Navy’s traditional “battle breakfast” — steak and eggs — at 3:00 a.m. on November 23, the shrill bos’un’s whistle over the ship’s PA system, then the barked command, “Now hear this! Away all boats! Away all boats!” On my way to my loading station, I see a marine lieutenant with whom I had made fast friends during our trip from New Zealand. We grip each other’s hands, then say something nonsensical. Before climbing down the debarkation net, I stand transfixed, looking at the gun flashes on the horizon. I remember thinking, “How in hell did I ever get here?”

In the night sky away from the island, the constellation Orion is shining brilliantly, as is the luminous Southern Cross. I’m struck by the contrast of this serene, heavenly vista and the violence a few miles away. I’m in my landing craft with my boat crew and 30 marines heading to the debarkation area, marked by two destroyers — their five-inch guns banging away at the island — 1,000 yards from the beach. Swimming alongside, keeping up with us, a 6-foot blue shark. A sign? An omen?

Leaving the debarkation area, I stand up on the engine box, using flags to signal the other 10 boats in my assault wave to form up, as I was trained to do. Splashes in the water march toward us — automatic-weapons fire and mortars. My brain and my body are in a struggle; my body refuses to yield, forcing me to kneel.

Meticulous planning, of course, preceded the invasion — and, as in all battles everything comes apart. But this time, one incredible blunder after another. Only a few hours of bombardment before H-Hour, compared with the days of it in later invasions. Landing craft hung up on the reef owing to lousy tide forecasting. Improperly trained, or perhaps, cowardly coxswains dumping marines in water over their heads, causing many to drown. Enfilading Japanese fire, disrupting the orderly dispatching of landing craft at the debarkation point. Landing Vehicle Tanks with paper thin armor — carrying command and communications personnel — ripped apart.

Days after the battle for the tiny Betio island is over, I come ashore. It is less than 300 acres, approximately the size of downtown Malibu. The air is still heavy with the stench of death. The burial crews have removed the U.S. dead, but some Japanese dead are still lying where they were killed, rotting and stinking in the tropical sun. Gun emplacements are everywhere.

Around the island are symbols of Japan’s conquest of huge swaths of Asia: an 8-inch gun with English markings that had been taken from the former British territory of Singapore. The dead gun crew are lying on the concrete gun foundation and scattered around them are Philippine currency in centavos denominations, showing Emperor Hirohito’s face. Among the non-American casualties of the battle are non-combatant Koreans, including “comfort women.”

The U.S. won the battle for Tarawa, but what was the price for this little piece of land? During less than three days of fighting, 8,000 were dead or wounded: The combined American casualties was close to 3,500. Most of the 4,800-member Japanese garrison was killed.

Several years ago, my late wife, Alberta, and I toured the South Pacific including the “Islands of Valor,” as the tour company called them: Guadalcanal and others in the Solomon Islands group.

In the islands, it was as if we were in a time warp. Nothing had changed. The islands are as lush, as verdant and as brilliantly colored just as I had remembered. The islanders still follow the sun’s pattern, arising at daybreak and retiring at sunset — still no electricity. WW II detritus was everywhere — abandoned bulldozers and jeeps in jungle clearings, here virtually an entire machine shop, there beached landing craft. On one of the islands, the wreckage of Japanese aircraft lie jumbled in and around bomb craters. Miraculously, one plane, a “Betty” class medium bomber, stands nearly intact some yards from the debris.

I climbed aboard and seated myself in the cockpit while Alberta took pictures.

A short time later, three young Japanese men from a separate tour group approached the plane as we left the area. Looking back, I watched one of the Japanese, laughing boisterously, climb into the cockpit I had left moments ago, presumably to have his picture snapped as well.