Power Couple

Loni Hancock and her husband are familiar faces in the local political scene and have been for quite some time now. In the late eighties and early nineties (while I was a student at Cal), she was the first woman to be elected and serve as mayor of the City of Berkeley. In her two terms as mayor, she made a name for herself at the state and national levels of the Democratic Party, along with friend and Berkeley economics professor Laura Tyson. Both were eventually tapped by Bill Clinton to serve in his administration, Hancock in the Department of Education and Tyson as his chief economic adviser. Hancock returned to Berkeley in 2001, in part, to run for the state assembly seat being vacated by her husband, Tom Bates, a seat that he had held for two decades. I know this, in large part, because I served as a legislative intern for then Assemblyman Bates while a student at Berkeley. It was quite an experience. In large measure because the district, the 14th Assembly District, comprised the most diverse hodgepodge of constituent cities and towns, from the liberal stronghold of Berkeley and the communities north of Berkeley to the affluent but politically moderate (at times progressive) area of Lafayette-Moraga-Orinda ("Lamorinda") to the solidly conservative middle-class suburb of Walnut Creek. It was a testament to Bates' political acumen that he succeeded in office for so long given this demographic challenge. He stuck to the issues that were of common concern to all including health services for the elderly and indigent, primary and secondary education, and strong support for the Berkeley campus as well as the East Bay parks district including the creation and funding of the shoreline park and walking trail that now runs from El Cerrito through the Berkeley marina down to Emeryville. Of course in a district dominated by countless Berkeley alums, it didn't hurt that Bates was a starting player on the last Cal football team to play in the Rose Bowl, way back in 1959. Recently, Bates did a little switch-a-roo with his wife by successfully running for mayor of Berkeley against Shirley Dean who took the seat from Hancock when she left for the Clinton post. So Bates, once the 14th District Assemblyman, is now Berkeley mayor. And his wife, Hancock, once Berkeley mayor, is now the 14th District Assemblywoman. In politics, anything is possible. Anyhow, the San Francisco Chronicle ran an article today (link here) about Hancock's new weblog, intended to be a forum for constituents to sound off on certain issues of local concern. The first topic being discussed is the hotly debated proposal for the first Indian gaming casino in the state to be located in an urban center, smack dab in the heart of her legislative district.

Economic Sleight of Hand? The Deception of Low Inflation

A commentary written this month by Bill Gross of PIMCO, the most respected bond fund manager on the Street, has been the talk of the professional investment community (link here). According to Gross, the federal government has been "fudging on inflation" by adjusting many of the prices that go into its calculation for improvements in quality. In a brief five page article, he accuses the federal government of having artificially adjusted down key measures of inflation and of having overstated productivity levels and more importantly, overall GDP growth. He has very strong words for the government and in particular, Greenspan's Fed. He writes: "No I cannot sit quietly on this one, nor as I’ve mentioned, have other notables in the past few years. The CPI as calculated may not be a conspiracy but it’s definitely a con job foisted on an unwitting public by government officials who choose to look the other way or who convince themselves that they are fostering some logical adjustment in a New Age Economy dependent on the markets and not the marketplace for its survival. If the CPI is so low and therefore real wages in the black, tell me why U.S. consumers are resorting to hundreds of billions in home equity takeouts to keep consumption above the line. If real GDP growth is so high, tell me why this economy hasn’t created any jobs over the past four years. High productivity? Nonsense, in part – statistical, hedonically created nonsense. My sense is that the CPI is really 1% higher than official figures and that real GDP is 1% less. You are witnessing a 'haute con job' and one day those gorgeous statistics just like those gorgeous models, will lose their makeup, add a few pounds and wind up resembling a middle-aged Mom in a cotton skirt with better things to do than to chase the latest fad or ephemeral fashion." Looks as though the era of Greenspan worship may be coming to an end as this commentary undercuts everything the Fed has achieved, or rather, claimed to have achieved, in the past half decade, most notably of having kept inflation in check.

No W(h)ining

Heard from someone in my MBA program that Stanford is actually offering a wine tasting class for credit. I was so floored by this that I actually did a search for the class webpage (link here). Unbelievable. If the luxury shopping mall, equestrian center, 18-hole golf course, and Rodin sculpture garden, all on campus, weren't enough. Makes one wonder if Stanford is indeed a real university or rather a luxury resort that happens to award you a piece of sheepskin at the end of your four-year vacation. Apparently, the class from a prior semester toured Chateau Souverain during a trip to Sonoma; they have photos of the entrance as well as the grounds posted on the site (photos here).

Friday Night Fellowship

The new film, Friday Night Lights, based on journalist H.G. Bissinger's bestselling nonfiction book of the same name, follows the actual events of the Permian Panthers high school football team in the barren west Texas oil town of Odessa during their 1988 state championship season (review here). Both the book and the film adaptation document and dramatize the obsessiveness and cult status of high school football in rural Texas, in particular, in the boom-and-bust town of Odessa where winning is everything. Indeed, I can attest to the fact that in every Texas town on Friday nights during high school football season, everyone, and I mean everyone including the mayor, is sitting somewhere in the stadium bleachers rooting on the home team. It's the only game in town. But it's more than that. Friday night football games in the Lone Star State are more akin to Sunday morning worship service. An informal state religion really and a mandatory part of one's civic duty as a citizen of the Republic of Texas. The book (and film) document the 1988 season. I actually remember that year and the divisional playoff game between the very same Odessa Permian team and my high school alma mater, Nimitz. With our star running back, we nearly pulled off the upset. Not quite though. Should be interesting watching the movie knowing that our school was involved in one of Permian's playoff games that year.

Going Native: The Hawaiian Rice Plate

While T and I ate most of our meals at the various wedding events, we did have the occasional opportunity to venture out. After our flight into Hilo, we took the advice of a colleague of mine who had just returned from his own trip to the Big Island. Matt's recommendation of Cafe Pesto (link here) was only reinforced on the plane ride in by a "local" who recommended the place to the young flight attendant on board. Who knew the best place to eat in Hilo was an Italian restaurant. Go figure. T's grilled ono with jalapeno-infused broth was delicious though. And my wild mushroom and artichoke pizza wasn't bad either. But the real high point for me was my first encounter with a traditional "Hawaiian rice plate". Hawaiian rice plates are the everyday food of locals, having originated with the sugar cane plantation workers from Japan and Korea generations ago. They vary in composition and quality depending on where you go but generally always include a handful of common components served on a paper plate: rice, fried egg, fried spam, and gravy. T and I ate ours at Blane's in Hilo. Delicious. It definitely beats mainland fast food both on taste and price. Each plate is less than four bucks! My mission now is to find a genuine Hawaiian rice plate place in the Bay Area. There has to be one somewhere.

Big Island, Big Celebration

T and I flew into Hawaii on Thursday for Vincent and Allison's weekend wedding celebration in Kona. Our Island Air flight from Honolulu to Hilo on the opposite side of the Big Island was spectacular. The pilot of the two propeller, 30-seat island hopper flew low enough along the northern shoreline that we could make out each person, each horse, each banana plant, and each dramatic coastal waterfall (and there were many). Hilo is a lush green, tropical paradise, and the flight into the airport was a visual feast. Driving over the mountain pass to the Kona side was another story. The barren expansive fields of lava rock made us feel as though we were roving on the moon's surface. And there were very few "locals" in the coastal Kohala district as most of the area is comprised of isolated and gated resort hotels, including the Marriot where we stayed (link here). Great hotel though and the private beach alone was worth the trip. Ah, reclining on a lounge chair inches from the clear blue ocean surf, the sweet murmur of lapping waves. Nirvana. Other than a few side trips including a tour of the Greenwell Farms plantation in the coffee growing district of Kona, much of our time was spent at one of the many wedding events during the three-day celebration. The rehearsal dinner at the estate house of the Parker Ranch in Waimea (link here) was beyond words. From the demographic of the hundred plus guests, the gathering straddled members of the Princeton Alumni Club of Northern California, seemingly all Ivy League-educated venture capitalists in the Bay Area under thirty-five years of age, Vincent's Kim clan from the East Coast, and Allison's Hostetter clan from the Midwest. The open mike speeches and toasts were all quite memorable and some of them absolutely hilarious. Exactly how did the two of them meet again? Even the Hawaiian pastor ribbed them about that one. The ceremony on Saturday afternoon was held at the small but historic Imiola Church in Waimea (photo here). The New England-style wooden structure supposedly dates back to the mid-nineteenth century. During the ceremony, gusts of ocean wind caused the planks to creak every now and then much like the inner hulls of a wooden ship. Despite the very traditional surroundings, the officiant kept the program short and light-hearted with a refreshing mix of sincerity and humor. Afterwards, we made our way to the reception which was held on the lawns of the Mauna Kea Beach Hotel facing both the white sand shores of Kauna'oa Bay and the deep orange hues of the Hawaiian sunset (link here). It was a quite an evening to cap off the weekend. Disco dancing notwithstanding. We wish V & A a happy life together as well as a safe trip back from their African safari.