Updates on some of the biggest stories from The District’s first year

PHOTO by JONATHAN NAFARRETE, WINNER OF OUR FIRST-EVER FLICKR PHOTO CONTEST

Bank doors closing for the last time. Roaring factories fallen suddenly silent. The stock market on suicide watch. Evangelical hymns in 10 thousand churches rising to an angry, bearded God. Foreign powers circling, eyeballing our ribs for a place to stick the knife. And top hats! Wait: That was 1929. The past 12 months, by contrast, were an Aquarian cycle of temporal delights, coinciding with the launch of the paper you hold in your hands, The District Weekly. In 52 issues, we’ve served Long Beach with a song of itself—a weekly song about great bands and restaurants, swinging bars, remarkable architecture, and, sure, the idiosyncratically wonderful. Read the following, and discover what’s new with Jerry Westlund, the strip-club owner and onetime City Council candidate who appeared on our very first cover—call it a walk down mammary lane. Remember LaVerne Duncan’s miracle on what had been a half block of North Long Beach? The miracle continues. And how about the incredible sinking city? Megan Brescini asks the Gas & Oil Department (yes: GOD) if Long Beach is still collapsing into the earth’s core. We’re not updating everything we wrote; in at least one case there’s nothing new to say: Remember Rachel Powers’ Sept. 11 visit to the mostly unprotected Port of Long Beach? Wow. Sorry. Oh, and Skullphone? Him we’ve got—and others—below.

THE P.T. BARNUM OF ADULT ENTERTAINMENT
ISSUE ONE :: APRIL 11, 2007

THAT WAS THEN When Steve Lowery interviewed Jerry Westlund—hometown boy-made-good, in a bad-boy kinda way: boxing promoter, lobbyist, City Council candidate, strip-club owner, whatever—for our first issue, the man everybody loves to hate was preparing for the Long Beach Celebrity Grand Prix.

THIS IS NOW Thanks to the District cover story, Westlund says, he’ll appear this summer as the subject of a reality TV series. He won’t say who’s producing (confidentiality agreement), but cameras have started following this P.T. Barnum of adult entertainment throughout the Bible Belt. Not that the Grand Prix experience wasn’t beneficial, too. Westlund’s friends now include fellow celebrity drivers Robin Quivers (The Howard Stern Show) and Emily Procter (CSI: Miami). His best friend from the big race: John Salley. In February, Westlund and the former NBA star traveled to Florida to watch Mike Skinner, a NASCAR racer they met at the Grand Prix, compete in the Daytona 500. What’s it like to watch stock car racing with the only black man in a crowd of some 160,000 in the Deep South? “There were two other black men,” Westlund says. “Three total.” Westlund, the owner of three local clubs where women take (most of) their clothes off—including Signal Hill’s Fantasy Castle—has found gold in the South: he’s added new venues in Mississippi, Missouri, Indiana, and Illinois. That is, too, the South! City officials in Memphis have launched a legal fight over one of his clubs there, and he’s suing a local county commissioner for that politician’s attempt to cultivate evangelical votes by excoriating Westlund’s strippers as drug addicts and victims of molestation. Says Westlund: “Irresponsible politicians need to be held accountable.” Does he worry? “Not much,” says Westlund, whom a Memphis reporter called “a bling-flashing Californian who boasts about how much he spends on legal fees.” When the District story appeared, Westlund says, some locals started talking smack. Were they upset about his conservative politics? His role in the skin trade? His—what’d the Memphis Commercial Appeal call it?—“bling flashing”? “For some people out there,” Westlund says, “someone else’s success only reminds them of their own miscalculations.” // WILL SWAIM

THE SUBSIDENCE ADVENTURE: THE SEQUEL
ISSUE THREE :: APRIL 25, 2007

THAT WAS THEN Our cover story set Dave Wielenga a-frettin’ that Long Beach might start sinking again—just as it did during the early days of local oil drilling, before engineers started pumping in 50.4 million gallons of water a day to stabilize the land. See, long after there’s no more oil worth pumping, the land—which supports, among other things, the Aquarium of the Pacific—will still need to be stabilized with water injections. But there won’t be oil profits to pay for it anymore, and you know how political priorities can get mixed up—former Long Beach city geologist Don Clarke says politics were behind why a GPS monitoring system around the Aquarium “was never fully implemented.”

THIS IS NOW Chris Garner still dislikes everything about Wielenga’s story—“It was a hit piece”—including the acronym used to represent the Long Beach Gas and Oil Department that Garner heads—GOD, logically. Garner prefers LBGO. If an acronym’s virility is determined by its length, then I say Don Drysdale of DOGGR—that’s “California Department of Conservation, Division of Oil, Gas, and Geothermal Resources”—wins the pissing contest. Even Drysdale referred to Long Beach’s subsidence guys as the “GOD Squad.” But on to the important questions. Has Long Beach sunk since last year? “As far as I know, there’s nothing new,” says Curtis Henderson of the GOD Squad. “It’s been very stable.” Subsidence manager Mike Henry wouldn’t go that far—wouldn’t go anywhere at all, except to insist that all questions be faxed to him on official District letterhead. Okay, so how about that (possibly fully implemented, but possibly not) GPS monitoring system at the Aquarium? What’s its status? “All questions must be submitted in writing,” Garner says, too, although he adds that “everything is under control.” And then adds that, “Everything is monitored constantly with better equipment than we’ve ever had before.” That’s a relief! Let’s pray it’s turned on. // MEGAN BRESCINI

IS THE POOK HITTING THE FAN?
ISSUE FIVE :: MAY 9, 2007

THAT WAS THEN Hundreds of City Hall files uncovered by The District revealed that promoter Chris Pook—he of Long Beach Grand Prix-founding fame—had been operating the Long Beach Sea Festival through a secret deal with then-City Manager Jerry Miller. In defiance of a unanimous City Council order, Miller permitted Pook to run the summer-long event without a contract in 2005 and 2006 while using city staff, property, money and approximately $100,000 in donations from city-related departments and agencies.

THIS IS NOW A five-year contract was finally signed last year between the Sea Festival Association and the city of Long Beach, and it’s already outlasted Miller and Pook. Miller retired as city manager last summer, per previously announced plans. Pook administered the Sea Festival in 2007 and pronounced his work a resounding success, but then suddenly resigned as executive director on Feb. 26. What happened to Pook’s self-described passion “to create a spectacular water-oriented festival for the benefit of the community, both residential and business”? He didn’t explain. But City Auditor Laura Doud has just finished a thorough financial audit of the Sea Festival, and the results will be presented to the Long Beach City Council shortly. Meanwhile, Pook released his own sorta-audit on the day he resigned—a financial impact report he commissioned from Long Beach State economics professors Dr. Joe Magaddino and Dr. Lisa Grobar, who get a lot of this kind of work from the city. That report contends the 2007 Sea Festival was responsible for 4,500 hotel room nights, had a direct economic impact of $5,584,916, and a total impact in the region of almost $9.4 million. Sounds like quite a windfall for the Sea Festival’s new operator—Bob Seagren’s International City Racing, Inc., the outfit that runs the Long Beach Marathon—unless he’s inherited . . . you know, Doud’s audit, remember? What does shit hitting the fan sound like, anyway? // DAVE WIELENGA

YOU’RE NOT BLANK
ISSUE ELEVEN :: JUNE 20, 2007

THAT WAS THEN DJ Nobody (Elvin Estela) and Niki Randa had just played their first live shows at LA’s Low End Theory as their new project, Blank Blue, and they had also just recorded early versions of the songs they hoped to later release as an album. “We did the songs backward,” says Estela.

THIS IS NOW Nobody and Randa criss-crossed the country on tour, and have an early May release scheduled for their debut DJ Nobody Presents Blank Blue: Western Water Music Vol. 2 on Ubiquity, the Costa Mesa label that gave young Elvin his start: “I felt they were close to home and I had my biggest success with them on Soulmates,” he says, “and it seemed logical to try again.” Water Music Vol. 2 offers plenty of the expected gentleness—Niki singing stately and slow over reverbed everything—but also includes newer mixes of songs only familiar as demos (“Eyes Closed”) and unheard surprises like the menacing “Faces,” which sounds like a Shocking Blue song lifted away from the live drum kit (and which includes ripping guitar from someone uncredited on promo—salute, anon.!). After a release party next month at Low End Theory’s new New York monthly—another recent development—Blank Blue will do a short run of East Coast shows and release a digital single with alternate versions (and maybe remixes, Elvin says) of album tracks. After that, July tour, and after that? “I don’t know,” says Elvin. “We’ll see what the year brings us!” // CHRIS ZIEGLER

NO BOULDER MOVEMENTS
ISSUE THIRTEEN :: JULY 5, 2007

THAT WAS THEN Our cover photo depicted people surfing in front of the Villa Riviera, and the story chronicled the Long Beach chapter of the Surfrider Foundation’s relentless mission to make it happen again. The group has been holding monthly meetings for 11 years with only one—and always the very same—thing on the agenda: the reconfiguration of the Long Beach Breakwater. Three weeks later (July 24), the Long Beach City Council voted 7-1 (Gary DeLong dissenting) to spend $100,000 to study the feasibility of exactly that.

THIS IS NOW Nine months later, bird poop still accumulates atop the Long Beach Breakwater and human fecal matter continues to collect behind it. Translation: no BMs . . . that’s boulder movements. A lot of paper has been shuffled, though, along with telephone calls made, and trips taken to Washington, D.C. Mostly, city officials have found out what they can’t do—like, pay for the feasibility study themselves.  Because the breakwater was built by the Army Corps of Engineers and is owned by the federal government, the feds have to kick in some cash. So even though Long Beach doesn’t actually need the money, Mayor Bob Foster led a delegation to Washington to tell lobbyists to ask the feds for $30,000. Letters have been mailed to Senators Dianne Feinstein and Barbara Boxer—and to wholly disengaged Congressman Dana Rohrabacher—pleading for the same thing. Meanwhile, the city has requested bidding proposals from several unnamed consultants—yes, before it even knows if it will have the necessary federal funding—because it is facing a May 20 deadline to hire a consultant and begin the study. Do you realize I could have borne a child by now? // JENNY STOCKDALE

A HEART-ACHE WAITING TO HAPPEN
ISSUE SEVENTEEN :: AUG 1, 2007

THAT WAS THEN Acres of Books, a Long Beach historic landmark since its 1934 opening by ex-Cincinnatian Bertrand Smith, was threatened by eminent domain from the city, which wanted to raze everything on the block where it sits for a mixed-use redevelopment project.

THIS IS NOW Acres of Books, which has been facing down the forces of so-called progress for more than a couple of decades, keeps on selling from its historic former country dancehall home at 240 Long Beach Blvd. Sadly, however, we learned Monday that the City of Long Beach is consummating a deal to buy Acres of Books for slightly more than $2.8 million. It will remain open for up to a year after escrow closes—but according to the city, that’ll be it. No more Acres. The first clue that something was wrong? Acres hadn’t purchased more books for many months—and just recently, the store blew out its entire stock of old National Geographic magazines. The magazines are always the first to know. It makes Acres proprietor Jackie Smith sad. She likes to buy books. “You don’t know how it hurts me to turn down books,” says Smith, whose husband Philip is the founder’s grandson. “That’s my favorite part.” Someday, after it razes the entire Broadway Block—bounded by Third Street, Broadway, Long Beach Boulevard and Elm Avenue—the city wants Portland-based Williams & Dame Development to build the usual mix of retail stores and condominiums, with underground parking and maybe an art gallery or two. Oh, but don’t worry: The 1924 building’s Streamline Moderne facade—just the front of it—is historic, so the city is obligated to save and reuse just that part. // THEO DOUGLAS

‘MIRACLE ON ANDY STREET‘
ISSUE EIGHTEEN :: AUG 8, 2007

THAT WAS THEN Andy Street, a half-block of North Long Beach that was a living dipstick of the city’s worst crime and most-sordid conditions, was transformed into a safe, kid-friendly neighborhood by hard work, committed city employees, collective action and an impressive constellation of local government entities—all of it coordinated by Community Development officer LaVerne Duncan, who tirelessly rallied tenants, landlords and businesses. It was all so on-the-fly that everybody was trying to figure out how to replicate it.

THIS IS NOW Andy Street isn’t giving up any ground. Crime rates are holding steady, and the monthly counts of service calls to the police remain a fraction of what they were four years ago. The block parties continue, now organized by Andy Street residents who have graduated from the Andy Street Ambassadors program—courses on effective property management, tenants’ rights and responsibilities, and leadership. Apartment owners are involved in myriad ways, and maintain a fund for the children of Andy Street, paying for their membership in the Boys and Girls Club. Others have noticed. Duncan is speaking with officials from numerous cities—including Santa Ana and Inglewood—that hope to replicate Andy Street’s successes. In May, Duncan, Councilman Val Lerch and a delegation comprising the police department, city attorney’s office, owners and tenants will attend the Neighborhoods, USA convention in Hampton, Virginia, to present “The Miracle on Andy Street.” // RACHEL POWERS

BEACH ENCROACHMENT BINGO
ISSUE TWENTY :: AUG 22, 2007

THAT WAS THEN The District uncovered a 2003 city-commissioned land survey—filed away as soon as officials saw the results—showing that 32 homeowners on the pricey Alamitos Peninsula had expanded their property onto the public beach, in violation of California law. The encroachments ranged from a single step measuring less than one foot to a patio extending nearly 50 feet. One of the homeowners, former city councilman Frank Colonna, canceled his advertising with The District.

THIS IS NOW The California Coastal Commission has begun forcing homeowners back on their own land. “We’ve chosen the five encroachments that were the largest, and sent each property owner a letter asking for their removal,” says Andrew Willis, Coastal Commission enforcement officer. “The next round of letters will go out in a few weeks. We had to do it in stages. If we sent out 30-something violation letters, I don’t think I’d be able to handle the backlash.” Willis says the homeowners have been generally understanding. “Obviously, they’re disappointed they’re going to lose what they considered their patios,” he says. “But ultimately they understand they couldn’t keep it on public land—that they had to give it back.” // DAVE WIELENGA

SUE-NAMI
ISSUE TWENTY-NINE :: OCT 24, 2007

THAT WAS THEN Long Beach resident Star Harris’ ongoing pursuit of a 2005 slip-and-fall lawsuit against 7-Eleven, Inc.—which she valued at more than $1 million—was becoming a public cause, complete with demonstrations outside the Slurpee machine. The District discovered that Harris and her mother, Debro Saad, together had sued and been sued more than 30 times since 1995, with combined judgments against them of more than $100,000. That’s a lot of cases, and it made me feel like Joseph Cotten in The Third Man (with less zither music) as I shuttled among courts in Long Beach, San Pedro and Los Angeles to unravel some of their tangled legal history. Somewhat later, Orson Welles spoke to me in a dream—which was weird because I usually dream about Appleton spotlights—and he told me to stop bothering him.

THIS IS NOW Harris went to the San Pedro Courthouse Oct. 29 for a status conference on the voluminous 7-Eleven suit, and the case was continued—all the way to June 23. By then Harris will be representing herself . . . again—she and her mom tend to do that (and, sometimes, to lose)—because sometime last year she fired her attorney, and took on the three-inch-thick case file. My back hurts just thinking about it. Meanwhile, last week in Norwalk Superior Court, Harris faced off against a woman named Arika Miner, AKA Arika Collins. Their legal tangle isn’t all these two have in common—including Miner’s civil harassment suit against Harris, she has been involved in 10 lawsuits since 2003. In three of these filings, plaintiffs were awarded judgments against Miner totaling $6,043.68. Pro per, baby. // THEO DOUGLAS

CRACKED SKULLL
ISSUE THIRTY-ONE :: NOV 7, 2007

THAT WAS THEN Abstract artist Skullphone spoke before an art show at Koo’s.

THIS IS NOW After a cheerful Christmas season featuring blown-glass Skullphone ornaments, Skullphone—the man behind the poster of the skull with the cellphone, which every California driver with eyes and a commute to work has seen somewhere—weathered blog slaughter two weeks ago after Internet people invented and then repudiated claims that he had “hacked” his way into a set of Clear Channel digital billboards, when he’d really quietly paid for the time the same way (he explained to The District) he might pay for other art supplies, like neon or blown glass. “I never led anyone down the path of what it was about,” he says. “It was definitely supposed to be an outdoor digital media project—it turned out to be an online digital media project.”

To certain amateur skullphrenologists, the most interesting part of the piece was the enraged projection from bloggers and commenters coast-to-coast, who went from yay-hacker-hero! to boo-billboard-buyer! within about 18 hours, but gentle Skullphone—who notes that the billboard buy cost less than any of his gallery installations—is still a bit troubled by the unexpected reaction. “Never before had any project I’d done received more than ‘Hey, I saw that on your website’ a year later,” he says. “I’m still adjusting to all this. The message is still the same to me—the message hasn’t changed at all. So this is the dividing point of the people who understand what I’m about and the people who don’t. For those who liked Skullphone simply because they thought it was on the street illegally, this is definitely gonna make them have to think more. And if they don’t want to, it’s easy to take the easy way out and say, ‘Skullphone is a sellout.’ But if they do their research and they still want to say that, that’s fine.” But what is the message? Skullphone demurs: “I really hate leading people to water and making them drink,” he says. “But I understand the ‘I hate Skullphone’ thing—the reality is that I’m completely self-loathing, and I hate Skullphone, too!” // CHRIS ZIEGLER

‘DICSTROKE’: NOW WE KNOW WHERE MRS. DISTRICT HAS BEEN SPENDING HER NIGHTS
ISSUE SIXTY-ONE, NO. TWELVE :: NOV 12

THAT WAS THEN The staff of the Long Beach State Union put out a spectacular weekly paper. Just before Thanksgiving, they published a spoof of The District. Our Dave Wielenga reviewed their work on our website:

“A day after Dicstroke magazine made its debut on the newsstands of Long Beach, hardly anybody has heard of it. Having ourselves debuted only seven months ago, you’d think we at The District might be able to identify with the empty feeling of inconsequentiality that usually accompanies all the work that goes into a first issue—and then, to lend a few words of support. Nope. The District was an unprecedented success from the get-go. Plus, we’re assholes. But that’s not to say we at The District don’t see something of ourselves in Dicstroke—the art design, content categories, story choices and special sense of arrogance and humor, for starters. Honestly, we’re honored to realize that we’ve been such an inspiration. Not at all surprised, though. The differences? Well, you can’t find Dicstroke on the Internet. We went to the web address (lbunion.com) and only found back issues of the other student newspaper at Long Beach State. Boring. Really boring. Dicstroke isn’t, though. It’s funny, adventurous, imaginative, rude, silly, spot-on and pulls off one of the hardest tricks in writin’—successful satire. You really should try to find a copy. Then you can compare it to the Union and wonder along with us: Why aren’t these people this good all the time?”

Some on the Union staff reacted badly—felt Dave’s 198-word response to a 28-page spoof was (as Ryan Kobane, their editor, put it in a January column) a “slap in the face.”

THIS IS NOW “I thought of it as more of a fierce groining,” Wielenga reflects. “And who doesn’t laugh when somebody gets kicked in the nuts?” We still think Dicstroke is funny. We like the parody ads for Long Beach retailers. (“Square Foot of Book”? “Bifocals, Monocles and More!”? “Tourette’s Tattoos”? Comedy gold.) And we admire the Union so much that we like to consider it The District’s own training camp—we’ve hired three Union alums in the last nine months. Five months after Dicstroke appeared around Long Beach State, when it’s late at night and we’re alone at District Weekly HQ, we like to see what Google turns up when you type in “Dicstroke.” // WILL SWAIM

FISHNETS, UNBUNCHED!
THEDISTRICTWEEKLY.COM :: JAN  20, 2008

THAT WAS THEN On the very day the Midnight Insanity troupe began rehearsals for the 20th anniversary of the Rocky Horror Picture Show—and a commemorative feature story appeared in the Los Angeles Times—the new managers of the Queen Mary’s Royal Theater gave the group 30 days to gather up its bustiers and fishnets and high-heel it off the ship.

THIS IS NOW Midnight Insanity is doing the Time Warp, again, still, and with no end in sight—now amid the gorgeous and sprawling art-deco splendor of the Warner Grand Theatre in San Pedro. “We’re home—we’re here for good,” says the troupe’s founder, Mark Tomaino. “There are no hassles; nobody bothers us.” Not now, maybe, but there were a few rough patches on the way to Nirvana. Even after Midnight Insanity thought it had secured the Warner Grand—just when it was getting comfy with all the chandeliers and striking murals—the troupe’s future was thrown into uncertainty by bureaucratic wrangling within the city-owned theatre’s management. “A hellhole in Orange County was looking like our best lead,” Tomaino recalls. These days, he considers the eviction from the Queen Mary as a blessing in disguise. Businesses around the Warner Grand (including the getting-kinda-landmarky-itself Sacred Grounds coffee house next door) extend their hours on nights MI performs. Meanwhile, back on Long Beach’s big boat, the Royal Theater is empty, just as it was a year and a half ago, before Midnight Insanity arrived. // KEVIN FERGUSON

Tags: acres of books, andy street, breakwater, jerry westlund, Long Beach, rocky horror, skullphone, Star Harris, The District