State of the State

On Monday night, Gov. Pete Wilson will deliver his annual State of the State address. What’s good for governors is good for the governed. Here is one Californian’s assessment of the Bear Republic as it lumbers into 1995. The governor is welcome to crib all he wants.

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The mountains are loaded with winter snow. This is a happy development for a state that never will have enough water. Farmers, environmentalists and city water managers can dicker and cut deals all they want. When it comes to California’s ceaseless water wars, nature still carries the biggest club.

The economy has begun to stir from a long hibernation. For every job the defense industry cuts, the entertainment industry creates a new one. Exports are up. Computers are hot. Unemployment is dropping. Still, a perception lingers that the only Californians with job security are those bloodless souls charged with organizing the next round of buyouts, layoffs or other forms of the old heave-ho.

This creates uncertainty and fear. Fear boils into anger. And this anger is the dominant emotion in California in January, 1995. If only we knew where to direct it. Nannies? Welfare cheats? Criminals? Democrats? Kangaroo rats? Juries? Republicans? Lawyers? Reporters? We’ve tried them all. And still the anger builds, like the snowpack.

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Last year 4,096 murders were committed in California. Two of them occurred on a certain breezeway in Brentwood. The rest we know nothing about. In general, crime is down. Fear of crime is up. The talk is not of volume, but rather of “randomness.” This, of course, is social codespeak. This is what is meant by random violence: “They” no longer do it only to themselves, but also to “us.” Got it? Thought so.

Meanwhile, Orange County is bankrupt, and no one outside Orange County seems to care much. Northridge is still littered with earthquake rubble, and no one outside Northridge seems to notice. The hills of Oakland, Malibu and Laguna still wear their fire scars and blocks of Los Angeles remain in ruins from the riots. And no one. . . .

A prison boom is on. On night flights from Burbank to Oakland, it’s possible to peer down on the San Joaquin Valley and mark the passing “correctional facilities.” Wasco. Corcoran. Avenal. Chowchilla. Each aglow with amber tower lights. These represent only a beginning. With the passage of the “three strikes” law, state officials predict that the prison population will double in the next five years, from 125,000 to 250,000. They are asking for 25 new prisons, just to keep up. State colleges, public hospitals--the line forms to the right.

Whining about military base closures is no longer in vogue. The silly push to keep open unneeded facilities has evolved into a quieter struggle for control of the properties. Should they be turned into public parks, say, or sold to private developers? Either way, California wins. Why? Because when it came time to place their California forts and airfields, America’s generals exhibited a keen eye for prime real estate, a fondness for ocean views. Ft. Ord. The Presidio. El Toro. We’re not dealing in Louisiana swampland here.

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In Sacramento, the Assembly has moved beyond symbolic gridlock to the real McCoy, a hidden blessing. A legislative process that can produce 1,349 new laws in a single session, as ours did last year, certainly can stand a good long collapse. Here’s to 40-40 forever.

We also have a new governor. Gone is that old sourpuss who once described California as a “bad product,” who for tactical advantage tried to promote the canard that every single employer was packing for Nevada. The new governor is a happy fellow. He has ambitions that go way beyond workers’ comp reform now.

“Good morning, Mr. President,” Pete Wilson says each morning to the face in the bathroom mirror.

“Good morning, yourself, you Gritty Ex-Marine,” the face answers back with a grin.

To put that face on Mt. Rushmore the governor first must convince a nation that he took a hopelessly broken-down California and transformed it into something magical. Implicit is the notion that he could do the same for America. Wilson begins Monday night, with his own State of the State address. Expect much fancy language about golden tomorrows at the edge of the continent.

The truth of course is not so neat. The truth is that real change comes slowly to a nation-state like California. The truth is that, for better and for worse, the state remains pretty much the same: a colony of 30 million people, none exactly like another, all trying to muddle through, to take care of their own and maybe not leave a mess for those who come later. Eureka.