I Quit, and I’m Taking My Backyard With Me

First, a confession: I am part of the polyurethane problem. I am not part of the solution.

Oh, I’m pretty good about recycling. But on more mornings than I should, I drive to a mini-mall and visit a doughnut shop and get a medium coffee to go. It’s good coffee, well worth the 50 cents. A better human being would provide his own mug, perhaps a fat-bottomed commuter model. I accept the Styrofoam cup and place a plastic lid on top.

So there I was Wednesday morning, running late to a City Hall news conference. I downed the last gulp and, leaving the parking garage, I tossed the cup in a trash can. I did all this routinely, unthinkingly--as I headed to a protest of the Sunshine Canyon landfill.

Where that cup will end up, I don’t know. Maybe Sunshine Canyon, maybe not. In deference to the North Valley Coalition of Concerned Citizens, I hope not. If I lived in Granada Hills, I wouldn’t want a dump in my backyard, either. Then again, that cup will surely wind up in somebody’s backyard.

Eager to raise the stakes in the landfill battle, the North Valley Coalition wanted City Hall to serve as a kind of Ft. Sumter. Seizing upon the secession sentiment of the moment, these rebels unveiled the apropos slogan “Dump L.A” and issued a clever manifesto:

Dear Los Angeles,

You and I have been together a long time and we’ve talked about splitting up for decades, so it should come as no surprise to you that I want out of our relationship. I’ve been sitting by the phone for years, waiting to be appointed to your Boards or Commissions, but you never called!

Now my therapist says I’m in an abusive relationship and if I’m ever to regain my self-esteem, I should get out now . . .

This might seem to be a classic NIMBY issue, but these rebels tacked on a list of other grievances, real or imagined: poor representation, inadequate policing and lousy transit. On the steps of City Hall, Granada Hills resident Nora Schumacher and other activists vowed to seek allies in their quest to “Dump L.A.”

Then they went inside, sat through a loooong council meeting, and spoke their piece. Then, as they knew they would, they lost another battle in their lengthy war to stop Sunshine Canyon. Not only did they lose citywide, they lost among Valley council members. So to anyone who takes this secession stuff seriously, Wednesday’s little drama should provide a valuable lesson.

The issue at hand actually had little to do with secession. It had everything to do with the nitty-gritty of municipal business. This time, the battle over Sunshine Canyon had taken the form of a $65.4-million, multiyear trash contract with Browning-Ferris Industries and another company. Browning-Ferris is the owner and operator of Sunshine Canyon and, as Schumacher pointed out, a major political contributor.

The protesters hoped a no vote would slow progress at Sunshine Canyon. But in the end, the contract was adopted, 12 to 3. North Valley council reps Hal Bernson and Richard Alarcon were opposed, joined by Nate Holden, who is known at City Hall for playing to the crowd. Among those voting in favor were Laura Chick and Joel Wachs, whose districts are entirely within the Valley, and Marvin Braude, Mike Feuer and John Ferraro, whose districts overlap the Valley and the Basin.

Sunshine Canyon, clearly, is not in their backyard. To them, this is a simple pocketbook issue. Protesters suggest that it’s all about campaign contributions. Council members will point out that the Browning-Ferris contract charged $18 per ton and an alternative plan would have cost $35 per ton--costs that would have been passed on to residents and businesses. To anyone who doesn’t happen to live near Sunshine Canyon, it’s not a difficult decision.

When I asked the North Valley activists if they had business supporters, Schumacher said, sure, the Granada Hills Chamber of Commerce was on their side. Small local businesses were on their side, but big business, they said, was all for the landfill. That would make sense; they have to dump trash, too.

It will be tough to hang a revolution on a local issue. And even if local issues are strung together, the rebels would discover that they disagree on solutions. If the Valley were its own city, where would it dump its trash? Schumacher said it would go through the normal procedure, accepting bids just the way the city of Los Angeles does now. The Valley, she suggested, might opt to send its trash out to Bolo Station in San Bernardino County.

Let’s assume that Bolo Station really is in nobody’s backyard. The big problem, obviously, would be the cost of trucking the trash out there. And if this new city denied Sunshine’s right to bid, the reduced competition would increase the dumping fees at other sites.

Imagine this new city, eager to both bolster public safety and hold down taxes and fees. The new city council might very well conclude that those local landfills are a necessary evil--unless they are in their neighborhood. Those who are united in demonizing big, bad Los Angeles would quickly find themselves divided by the difficult business of governance.

I was talking about this with a colleague over lunch. We went to an Italian joint. I ordered the eggplant lasagna and was chagrined when it arrived on a cardboard plate. Instead of silverware, I had to use a plastic fork and knife. And for my Coke, I needed another polyurethane cup.

To make matters worse, the lasagna wasn’t very good.

Scott Harris’ column appears Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. Readers may write to Harris at the Times Valley Edition, 20000 Prairie St., Chatsworth 91311. Please include a phone number.