San Diego Review November 1, 1995

Old School Bus + 20 years: National Referendum Realized?

by Dwayne Hunn

In 1976  Roger Telschow and  John Forster  packed up their People’s Lobby literature, training, and maverick politics  in an old yellow bus, crisscrossed 30 states and poured their energy into making the wooden figures in the marbled halls of Washington implement the National Initiative & Referendum.  The results?

In  1977 Senators Abourezk, Hatfield and Gravel (D-AK, 1969-81)  co-sponsored Senate Judiciary  Committee hearings on implementing a national initiative process.  They all expressed support for the idea of  initiative law making, but  Hatfield and  Abourezk didn’t support the initiative amending the Constitution. “Ridiculous!”  Gravel  today responds,  “That means  the employees of people can amend the Constitution,   but people can’t. Ridiculous!..”

In 1977 Rick Arnold’s initiative helped replace  the lessons of  Vietnam and three Bronze and one Silver Stars by learning how to gather signatures and run initiative campaigns.  Today, more than 300 initiative campaigns later, he sees  the  National Initiative  as the  safety  valve  America needs to check systemic cynicism. Today, Gravel and Arnold’s paths increasingly cross, as they pursue the goal of a national initiative, albeit by  slightly different processes.

A three day San Diego October 1995 Campaigns and Elections Conference allowed political experts to hone the skills of  the sponsoring American Initiative Committee (AIC) and Philadelphia II participants, as both organizations approach 1996 intending to make Direct  Democracy available to America.  What’s the difference between AIC and Phily II?

Both want Americans “empowered” with the National Initiative and Referendum (NI&R) and believe a grassroots ground swell will be needed to do that.   Arnold believes that every Congressional district needs an organization gathering signatures and pressuring representatives so that 3/4ths of the states plus 1 (38) will empower Americans by ratifying a simply worded Amendment such as: “The people reserve the right to the initiative and referendum.”

For the 1996 Presidential ballot, Gravel wants a National Initiative and Referendum ballot in every registered voter’s hand.  When one over 50% votes for empowering Americans with those Direct Democracy tools,  Philadelphia I, where Americans in 1787 drafted their   new Constitution without asking permission of  the states under the inept Articles of Confederation, will  have an equally revolutionary and powerful   brother — Philadelphia II..

Gravel’s Phily II  does not, however, leave defining the process for doing national initiatives in the hands of  elected representatives.  Instead, like the Constitution with its articles and sections,  Phily II specifies the what, when and how of the NI&R.  “Governments make it harder to do initiatives, so why leave it in their hands to establish the process. Anyway, I’ve been there (the Senate)  and don’t want to entrust that to them.”

Simple process, complex wording.  Which do you prefer?

California cruisin…

San Diego Review, September 1, 1995, Dwayne Hunn

As a young person living in the midwest during the ‘60’s,  music, television and news left one with visions of  “woodies” cruising beaches filled with beautiful bronzed “California girls” under skies speckled with mountains and palm trees in temperatures that were always warm, but not sweaty.  The economy boomed,  and Hollywood left you with a Vance Packardized image that everyone swooned over California….

Those images weren’t easily forgotten, especially after two years working in Bombay’s slums with the Peace Corps.  So, when I was lucky enough to received a fellowship to Claremont Graduate School, about 40 miles east of Los Angeles, I came to California…  Traveling east from Bombay via Thailand, Malaysia, Vietnam, Japan, and Hawaii, the roads, cars and buses became a barometer of lifestyles.  They grew bigger, fancier and faster right up to California,  where my gears stuck in reverse culture shock, as comfortable homes and  smooth freeways zoomed by my air conditioned bus window.

Graduate school and high school and college teaching helped  temper the culture shock, but something about perfect California kept gnawing  at me.

Near Claremont is another bucolic town called Glendora,  where I lived my southern California years.  I lived on a 2+ acre funny pharm, nestled at the base of the San Gabriel foothills, where a number of us helped build a castle.  I lived there for several months with my eyes wide open, before the fabled Santa Anna winds came through around November.  The Santa Annas blew the air overhead away, out into the Pacific Ocean for the plankton to ingest.  And lo and behold, what had been a single row of mountains riming the pharm was clearly three finely etched ranges deep. That discovery, and the scent of fresh air, prodded me to increase studying and lecturing on air pollution and the environment.

Back then most California kids  didn’t concern  themselves much with air pollution.  Under those weather caster defined “hazy skies” they were enjoying the good life hanging out, chasing girls, surfing, beaching, partying, smoking, etc.  Now and then their good times would leave them with a stunning, educational revelation,  like when some of my  high school students returned from the other side of the mountain ranges after enjoying a star-studded, desert camping trip.  “There were like a million stars up there!  God, there were so many stars I couldn’t believe it!”

Yeph, they had been raised in the Los Angeles basin.   At night they saw hundreds of stars — the others Carl Saigon counted had been smogged out.

To a midwestern guy accustomed to clear, blue skies it didn’t seem like many California students or graduates knew or cared about air pollution.  But ….  it only takes a few and a dedicated core more to turn the sky upside down.

“Below the inversion layer, it’s just brown and yucky

                                           stuff.”

As a kid growing  up in Los Angeles in the 50’s, Roger Jon Diamond loved playing football, baseball and basketball.  He hated smog.  Neither his folks, buddies or teachers cared about air pollution, but as the years moved him to manhood his distaste for it grew into a crusade to erase it. “When I took my first air plane flight, then it   really dawned on me how much the smog was — cause you could see the inversion layer.  Once the plane gets above the inversion, it’s like a whole new world — you could see blue sky above the inversion layer.  Below the inversion layer, it’s just brown and yucky stuff.”

His concern didn’t leave after becoming an attorney.  As Roger put it on one of People’s Lobby’s recent  public affairs television productions, “I had always been involved in environmental issues.  That was my dream — to clear up the air in Southern California.  Growing up as a kid in Los Angeles, I learned first hand  about smog and air pollution.  When  I graduated from UCLA Law School in December of  ‘66, I decided to do something about air pollution. I filed a class action suit.”

Come back next month, if you think daring lawyers can fix anything  from smog to plumbing to  12 point deficits with only 2:11 left ….   San Diegans know that lawyer Steve Young can do at least 2 out of three of  the above, right?  Can Roger go three for three?

San Diego Review August 1, 1995

Can’t Recall the Government?

Then Let’s Recall the Smog!

by Dwayne Hunn

 In the summer of 1968 Edwin and Joyce Koupal were immersed in gathering signatures to recall Governor Reagan, which included the complex, time-consuming re­quirement of matching the gathered signatures with names and precincts. (Thanks partially to the later efforts of People’s Lobby, that laborious cross filing process is no longer required.)

In that same summer Ronald Reagan threw his hat into the presi­dential ring, which pit the rookie, charismatic, right-hook develop­ing governor of the nation’s most productive state against the come­back, cagey and savvy. inside-the-ropes conniver, Tricky Dick Nixon. The last thing not-yet Teflon-protected Governor Reagan needed as he stepped in­side the presidential ropes, was a successful recall campaign mounted by a 41-year old high school drop-out and political nov­ice, who had just registered to vote.

Cannon Ball Berg, Ed’s side­kick, recalls the August 1968 day when they delivered the recall sig­natures to the Secretary of State’s office just before the 5:00 p.m. closing time. To this day, Canon Ball Berg remains amazed at the counting efficiency of the Secre­tary of State’s office in that pre-computer age.

At signature filling time, Governor Reagan was in Florida at the Republican National Presidential Nominating Convention. By 10:00 p.m. Florida time (7:00 p.m. Califor­nia time), Gov. Reagan announced the recall effort had gathered only 550,000 of the required 700,000 sig­natures needed for the ballot.

Well, the former used car sales­man had taken his jazz man antics into big time politics and failed. That, however, didn’t cause him to pack up the band and find a real job. Instead, the recall campaign, which the Koupals had based in Los Angeles, where the people were exposed to the wretched air. And Edwin Koupal, the kid who probably left for the mer­chant marines before he took a high school civics class, pinned the blame for the putrid, smog filled air on — the politicians.

The Koupals began learning about smog from a mostly silver-haired led group called Stamp Out Smog. Soon they became leaders and soon formed their own group— People’s Lobby.

If you think low-lead gas, nuclear power plant construction moratori­ums, banning DDT usage, and lowered sulfide oxide emissions from diesel fuel are beneficial envi­ronmental developments — then read some of the upcoming columns. The Koupals and People’s Lobby may have done more than any other individuals and organization to move California and the nation into embracing those changes.

San Diego Review June 1, 1995

 Too strong & too smart to punch back

 by Dwayne Hunn

Before Ed left his thriving used car sales manager’s busi­ness, he got an out-in-the-field taste of what his style of in-your-face political confrontations would bring. Ed’s work often

had him doing television commer­cials. On this day, one of the Sacra­mento stations had just finished a commercial with him on Saugstead’s ‘The Hill” dealership. Afterwards, Ed made a few frank remarks about Senator Lunardi. The reporter used in the commercial was a friend of the Senator’s and took exception to Ed’s stinging remarks. The reporter ripped some slashing remarks back at Ed, to which Ed, with one of the quickest tongues in the West, tartly replied.

After more sizzling reports, the reporter bloodied Ed’s mouth Ed, barrel-cheated with a workman’s arms, didn’t strike back. Instead, Ed pinned the reporter to the ground, dripped blood on his shirt and necktie, and pumped him with straight talk as Ed’s car-selling skydivers filled the reporter’s heaven-bound eyes rather than punched up stars. There was little the reporter could do— the politician and others to follow, like the skydivers, were set up by Ed to fail.

Soon Ed took his jazzman’s improvisation, set-up routine, cut­ting tongue and forthright insights into the big boys’ political arena.  For most of the white or black knighted political gladiators who joined the contest, the results re­sembled those on the “The Hill.”

San Diego Review June 1, 1995

 Flushing and stepping in it

  more of the story of Ed Koupal, People’s Lobby founder

 by Dwayne Hunn

 By the early 60’s the standout young kid who grew into an exceptional jazz musi­cian was now a super used car sales manager with a posh sub­urban home. Comfortable and non-voting, he epitomized the “silent majority.” Then Ed flushed once too often.

Hearing some gurgling sounds and sniffing some pun­gent odors from his subdivision’s bowel move­ments, Ed got his political feet wet and dirty in sewer agency politics when he learned that some sweet smelling home owners in his subdivisions were not paying there fees. He also learned that a related economic beneficiary was an industry player who helped supply the nation’s lifeblood —   Sunset Oil.

Sunset Oil wanted to de­velop nearby Whitney Ranch in Rockland. The company conveniently proposed, with the assistance of a bill pro­posed by Senator Lunardi, that a district be created within a district — which the taxpay­ers of Placer County would have to support. Users of this district would get a lot more than just free sewer usage. To Ed and his neighbors this seemed like another scam and their group, the Tommy Knockers — named after Irish elves who warned miners of impending shaft dangers, brought a $26 million suit to plug the shaft.

After tasting the sewage of politics, Ed rolled out of the silent majority’s bed. His senses would never be the same. His subsequent politi­cal acts proved that.

What sensible politician neo­phyte would respond to little old ladies asking him to get rid of newly-elected Governor Reagan in the mid 60’s? So what if the ladies complaints centered around Reagan’s proposed elimination of 3,700 jobs at hos­pitals, elimination of fourteen state outpatient clinics, and the assumption of community men­tal health care by county centers and similar cuts in welfare and educating programs? What could a used car salesman, a voting neophyte, do to the hand­some governor of America’s most powerful state?

Well, as practical wife Joyce pointed out, when about half the people get upset with someone —        something can be done. Around that dissatisfaction level, which L4 Times editorials helped build, Tommy Knockers Ed, Joyce and Cannonball Berg vis­ited with Nancy Paar in San Fran­cisco, who had once tried to re­call Reagan. After disagreeing as to whether a Recall Reagan campaign should be run from San Francisco or Los Angeles, the Tommy Knocker contin­gent split for where the smoggy numbers lived — to recall a cinematic charismatic con­nected governor.

The Koupals left a comfort­able lifestyle. Their kids would never again have the traditional family outings or closeness. Politics without the perks in­undated their lives — crusad­ing on a shoestring budget be­came their livelihood.

From a group of youthful political idealists, they grew a shrewd, street-savvy staff. From the open-minded of Cali­fornia, they grew a national cli­ent base of initiative produc­ers. To the likes of Ralph Nader and Jerry Brown, they taught political karate that Harvard, Yale, seminaries, Zen and good government groups hadn’t even envisioned.