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When Los Ososans are not so busy ripping each to shreds over the sewer issue, they can take a few hours out to read ‘Small Town, Perfect Storm: The Los Osos Sewer Saga,’ a provocative novel sure to intensify an already volatile political climate. Who’s interviewed for the book and who’s not — that is the question.

Small Town Perfect Storm: The Los Osos Sewer Saga (by Barbara Wolcott, Central Coast Press $19.95)
Barbara Wolcott’s new book, “Small Town Perfect Storm: The Los Osos Saga”, is an investigation that is meant to simply illustrate the underlying problems in Los Osos while capturing the raw emotion of exasperation and woe that remained a fixture in the town’s modern history.
After uncovering the problems found at the nearby coastal community of Avila Beach, Central Coast novelist and Pulitzer Prize-nominated freelance journalist Barbara Wolcott looked to find out the sources of the conflict and delays that haunted the community of Los Osos since 1969.
In her previous book, “David, Goliath and the Beach Cleaning Machine: How a Small Polluted Beach Town Fought an Oil Giant — And Won”, Wolcott wrote about an oil company knowingly polluting Avila Beach through a network of underground pipelines. The pollution was estimated at about 400,000 gallons of crude oil, gasoline and diesel. However, in Los Osos, instead of unity to solve a common problem like in Avila Beach, the community finds themselves in disarray and the same regulatory agencies who helped Avila Beach residents were at odds with each other thanks to overlapping mandates and conflicting reports.
While pursuing her quest for clarity of information that was lost in the muddy waters of Los Osos politics, Wolcott stumbled upon the enigma known as the “opposition,” otherwise known as the “UltraOpposition.” She also refers to the opposition as “anti-government protesters,” “anti-establishment protesters” and “anti-sewer activists” — a group of people who would stop at nothing to keep the Los Osos bay polluting without a much-needed sewer.
Wolcott is quick to connect the dots by establishing the following premise: the anti-sewer opposition is to blame for everything. Without any clear or compelling reason, she claims the opposition’s resistance to the design and construction of a wastewater project has cost the community of Los Osos millions of dollars due to inflation. And, not only that, community residents are forced to accept the consequences of not having a sewer after porta-potties “dotted the streets” at several points in time throughout the town’s history. Wolcott writes that raw sewage leaked into the streets, effluent ponds appeared in people’s backyards, houses in low-lying areas were flooded due to faulty septic tanks: the conditions were unsanitary at best. Wolcott took great pleasure in visualizing these problems in fine, dramatic detail.
While she toys with the dangers of not having a wastewater project, Wolcott writes about ancient history involving civilizations that existed without proper wastewater management. She writes about the city of Ur, a city located in ancient Sumer (a historical region that is now known as Southern Iraq). In 3500 B.C.E., 65,000 people lived in one square mile of the city. Residents dumped their waste in the streets. Wolcott cites historical examples as a means of establishing two points by implication: (1) the opposition to a sewer are unsanitary, barbaric creatures and (2) not having a wastewater system would eventually cause an increase in illnesses and a decrease in population.
Whether with the best intentions or not, the bureaucrats at several regulatory agencies rallied together to present the case for the sewer while people like former County Supervisor Bud Laurent fought their “facts” and “information” at every step. Making it worse for Wolcott, members of Citizens for an Affordable Wastewater System (CAWS) filed numerous, “frivolous” lawsuits that would cost the community millions — due to the costs of inflation affecting the wastewater project estimates — while the Community Services District fought valiantly to defend their actions. Wolcott aggressively portrays the opposition’s ignorance as stifling and alarming, leaving no opposition dissent unscathed.
As Wolcott gets closer to the present, piquant details begin to emerge. Accusations are thrown. Professions are questioned. Lawsuits are counted, but dismissed without detail. She holds nothing back when identifying (by name) some members of the opposition who have halted progress while, according to her, legally, verbally and physically disrupting measures to build a sewer, which were almost universally supported by the rest of the community. To help in identifying the sinister, wormy cave-dwellers of Los Osos politely known as “anti-sewer activists,” Wolcott interviewed local political operatives including Joyce Albright, Don Bearden, Frank Freiler, Richard LeGros, Lou and Lynette Tornatzky, among others with similar ideologies and ambitions. Wolcott seamlessly weaves their perspectives into the material while integrating research — yet, in the absence of footnotes or a list of specific references cited.
Interestingly, she does not interview most of the “opposition” who are mentioned in Perfect Storm.
The opposition has become the convenient scapegoat in “Perfect Storm” while the protagonists consistently appear cheery, open-minded and dedicated to helping the common good with no questions asked. In one example, former CSD director Rose Bowker had to fend off disruptive audience members and speakers — making loud boos and catcalls — at meetings regularly. Those who were disruptive remained nameless. The reasons for being disruptive were never taken into account. Instead of focusing on the unruly actions of some individuals, she referred to the disruptive people simply as the “opposition.” Wolcott concluded that the opposition as a whole, used fear and intimidation in hopes of coercing community members into adopting their viewpoints.
From 2003 to 2004, long-time community “activist” Al Barrow became the poster child of the UltraOpposition and their “guerilla warfare” tactics, writes Wolcott. Barrow would be greeted with icy stares and shivers from BOS and CSD members who disagreed with him. Barrow would demonstrate his animosity by physical intimidation and producing threats. Using the “bully pulpit,” Barrow would go on the record to spread inaccurate information, exaggerate numbers in favor of his arguments: his behavior would serve as symbolic — according to Wolcott — as tactics universally endorsed by everyone in the UltraOpposition.
In “Perfect Storm”, former CSD board members Lisa Schicker and Julie Tacker are portrayed as being uninformed of the regulatory laws and CSD bylaws that governed them. According to Wolcott, both appeared naive at best. Schicker and Tacker would dispute the judgments and resolutions of the three recalled directors. Those who were recalled were considered as “politically experienced and respected in the region,” compared to Tacker, a “stay-at-home mother and community activist” who copied the mannerisms of former County supervisor Shirley Bianchi and demonstrated the intent to deceive the community when it came to the possibility of securing alternative site locations. Then there’s Schicker, a woman who — writes Walcott — didn’t even know how the California Coastal Commission (CCC) and the State Water Board functioned nor appeared to have a concept of legal enforcement. Wolcott establishes the element of foreshadowing. Schicker and Tacker’s actions on the pre-recall board would indicate the problems that would arise following the Recall while others on the board remained above the fray, righteous and flawless — only being guilty of responding to Schicker and Tacker’s opinions with shock-induced silence.
After the 2005 recall of directors Stan Gustafson, Gordon Hensley and Richard LeGros, Wolcott describes the Recall board’s downward spiral into madness, which was fueled by UltraOpposition initiatives and propaganda. Due to the Recall board pursuing their agenda by making irrational judgments based on “profound misinformation,” Wolcott’s storm was perfected.
There are several leading protagonists in the book including former County Supervisor Shirley Bianchi and former CSD director Pandora Nash-Karner, but the man of the hour was California Assemblyman Sam Blakeslee, who was responsible for brokering the deal to resolve the “Perfect Storm” once and for all. Blakeslee, who Wolcott repeatedly praised throughout the book, created AB 2701, a bill which transferred the responsibility of designing and constructing the Los Osos wastewater project to the County of San Luis Obispo. The origin of the bill appeared in the form of a drawing made by former County Administrative Officer David Edge on a napkin. The idea would later evolve into a seemingly coherent and compelling resolution that aimed to liberate Los Osos from the chaos and confusion.
Aside from the competing opinions that would spring from the “yes” and “no” votes, the County’s 218 assessment vote would ultimately conclude the “perfect storm.” Wolcott reports the results of the vote found 80% of those who were assessed supported being taxed for a project, even though 80% is not correct and the results were closer to 50%. By the end of the book, Wolcott merely glosses through the problems cited by others as she eagerly proclaims the assessment as being the final stake in the heart of the UltraOpposition.
“Small Town Perfect Storm: The Los Osos Saga” comes with a series of journalistic dilemmas that disrupt the book’s balance. Wolcott is not critical of those who were not in the opposition. She often falls into pages of acclaim of community leaders and volunteers who were interviewed and states their opinions as matters of fact. She doesn’t respect the reader enough to cite specific sources and dates in the material. Readers would be hard pressed to stumble upon the same information provided in the book by using only objective, third-party sources. Wolcott has no feel for the people she has deemed as incurably irate and destructive. Her analysis of the opposition appears in multiple forms with each label lacking definition. By taking on a crudely cynical tone, Wolcott is culpable for underestimating the credibility of dissenting opinion.
Nevertheless, the book is an entertaining read. While “Small Town” is not entirely a work of fiction, it thrives as a work of hyperbole, which some may find dangerous for undermining the possibility of engaging in constructive discussions regarding the wastewater project. The provocative perspectives Wolcott provides us shows misconceptions that many in Los Osos have touted for more than 20 years. The misconceptions shown in the book are based on a clear abundance of misinformation and heavily polarized opinions held by community activists, not wastewater experts.
The most eye-opening parts of the book were Wolcott’s examination of the history of Los Osos leading up to 1995. Without going into detail of the reports and studies conducted by the County and independent engineering groups, Wolcott showed that it was well documented that residents in Los Osos have been polluting the water basin at alarming rates for almost 40 years. Had she gone into additional detail regarding the proof of pollution, the book would take on another dimension and become a resourceful asset in a community that has seen — for far too many times — a void in valuable information.
“Some people have to stand down and admit to disagree,” writes Walcott. “How about we work together to rework the fabric of the community?” If only Wolcott would have encouraged that idea more by example. If only.
– Aaron Ochs








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