Feb. 26, 2004
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Worth Dikeman, Steve Schectman,
Gloria Albin Sheets
by EMILY
GURNON
They all drive Japanese
cars.
And there ends the
resemblance among the three lawyers running as replacement candidates
in the race to unseat District Attorney Paul Gallegos. As anyone
who has been following it knows, the race has been a lively one,
embodying the wide gulf in North Coast political forces and the
ever-present tension - even outright hostility - between those
who have lived here for decades and the more recently arrived,
between those who yearn for the Humboldt County of old and those
who are hastening its changes.
This week, the Journal
takes a look at the three candidates vying for the position of
DA should Gallegos be recalled: Worth Dikeman, Steve Schectman
and Gloria Albin Sheets.
WORTH
DIKEMAN: Veteran prosecutor
Humboldt County Deputy District
Attorney Worth Havens Dikeman Jr. holds an 8 1/2x11 notebook
and stands slightly hunched over as he questions a witness in
an attempted homicide case. His glasses, a cheap pair of reading
lenses, hang low on his nose. He walks with a sort of confident
lope and gives the impression of a reserved, patrician gentleman.
That's one Dikeman. The other
is one who makes silly quips, admires singers like Bob Dylan
and Randy Newman and brags that his wife, whom he calls "the
redhead," used to sell dirty jokes to Playgirl magazine.
The 58-year-old prosecutor is
an unlikely politician, and seems clearly uncomfortable with
the role. He has said throughout that he is "not running
against Paul [Gallegos]," but felt compelled to join the
race. "I did not support the recall effort," Dikeman
said from the dining room of his alder and redwood-shrouded
Arcata home. "I did not gather signatures, pass out literature.
But the recall is a given. When Mr. Schectman put his hat in
the ring, that changed everything," he said. Schectman,
a longtime civil attorney, has no experience being a prosecutor.
"I consider Mr. Schectman to be unacceptable."
If no one had run for the seat,
Dikeman says, the Board of Supervisors would have appointed someone,
and it would very likely have been him. (Dikeman is listed on
the county's emergency preparedness plan as the person who would
step into the DA's position if the district attorney were not
able to perform his duties.)
"I was reluctant to get
involved in the political process," he says. "I am
not reluctant to be the DA."
Indeed, Dikeman has appeared
less reluctant as the campaign has progressed. In media forums
and advertisements, he has said that "a large part of our
community no longer trusts the incumbent to do the job he was
elected to do," and "I want to be your District Attorney."
He says he is "loyal" to Paul Gallegos, yet loyalty
would not preclude him from praising his boss, which he has declined
to do.
But does he really want the
job or not? Will he vote yes or no on the recall? And is the
recall just?
In December, Dikeman told the
Journal that he would personally vote against the recall
(though he now says he has no recollection of having said that).
Since then, he has steadfastly refused to answer that question,
saying he'll state his position on the recall on Election Day.
He says recalls are part of the democratic process. And he has
refused to say much about Pacific Lumber's financial involvement
in the recall movement, except that it seems "troublesome."
That stance has infuriated Gallegos'
supporters, including Schectman, who has repeatedly pressed Dikeman
on it in their public appearances. Dikeman won't budge, and his
coyness comes off sounding, at times, passive-aggressive. He
clearly doesn't like being challenged, having his answers dissected.
He wants to be taken at face value.
The prosecutor said he has not
been particularly surprised at how the campaign has gone, however.
"I anticipated there would be what I call some eye-gouging.
I just didn't think it would start so soon."
Dikeman has gotten in some jabs
of his own, mostly at Schectman. He has criticized the civil
attorney for listing his occupation on the ballot as "prosecuting
attorney," remarking that Schectman "ain't done it
yet."
Dikeman grew up in Berkeley,
where he attended Berkeley High, and served as a medic in the
Army before spending a year as an infantry officer in Vietnam,
from 1969 to 1970, where he attained the rank of 1st Lieutenant.
He says he took the Vietnam assignment for one reason: to make
his father, a World War II veteran, proud.
He earned his bachelor's degree
in history from Chico State in 1973. It was there that he met
Geri Anne Johnson, who would in 1980 become his second wife.
(He separated from his first wife, a "flower child,"
after a year of law school. They had a daughter who now lives
with Dikeman's mother in the Bay Area.) After his graduation
from UC Hastings in San Francisco, Dikeman was admitted to the
bar in 1976.
Twenty-seven years later, it
seems strange that this consummate prosecutor wanted to become
a defense attorney when he first got out of law school. "I
was of the impression at that point in time that I could make
a greater impact on society," he said. There were openings
with the Contra Costa Public Defender's Office and the District
Attorney's Office; he had two interviews on the same day. The
public defender "didn't think much of my interview";
the DA offered him a job. His fate was sealed.
He began his career in Richmond,
in Contra Costa County -- where he lost his first seven trials,
all drunk driving cases. Fortunately, things started looking
up. "We didn't have a lot of training, and as a result,
they gave you your penal code, pointed you in the direction of
the courtroom and said, `Let us know how it goes.' Things did
get better. I got better."
In 1985, Dikeman and his wife
decided to move their family to Humboldt County. "Both of
us were interested in going somewhere that wasn't paved,"
he said. The fact that it was a college town appealed to them,
too. "We've never regretted that decision." He got
a job working for former DA Terry Farmer.
"Terry Farmer brought me
up here, and I think he did a very good job as DA," he says
of his former boss.
Dikeman's current assignments
include all the marijuana-related felonies and three homicide
cases. His resume includes two death penalty cases, involving
Curtis Floyd Price and Jackie Ray Hovarter. He also has taught
criminal law at College of the Redwoods.
Since joining the race, Dikeman
has scored endorsements from a range of law enforcement groups,
including the Humboldt Deputy Sheriffs Organization, the Eureka
Police Officers Association, the Fortuna Police Employees Association
and the Arcata Police Association. He won the Prosecutor of the
Year award in 1993 from the California District Attorney's Association,
and he is reportedly one of the most respected prosecutors in
the office.
According to the most recent
campaign finance statement, Dikeman has raised a little over
$50,000 this year, including $23,000 in loans from himself, $7,800
in nonmonetary contributions and $19,000 in cash. His contributors
include the Eureka Police Officers Association ($3,000), the
Humboldt Deputy Sheriffs Organization ($495) and a number of
local attorneys and law enforement personnel. Robin Arkley Sr.
chipped in $500.
Suzie Owsley has worked with
Dikeman through her 12 years with the Eureka Police Department.
She said she rarely supports political candidates, but is spending
some of her own personal time campaigning for Dikeman. Speaking
as a private citizen, she said Dikeman is known in the DA's office
for being the first one there in the morning and the last one
to leave at night. "I'm supporting Worth because I think
he is someone we can all look up to. He is a seasoned professional,
he covers all his bases, he reads the whole crime report and
he works hard for the victims. Most important, he remembers the
victims. I just think he's a real gem."
Dikeman's closeness with law
enforcement is likely to take him far in terms of votes from
the more traditional factions of the county. On the other hand,
it may not sit well with the region's more progressive wing.
Barbara Hitchko, 59, said she
had personal experience with Dikeman's tough stance on marijuana
when a family member was prosecuted by him. The Eureka teacher
and Green Party member said she would not be voting for him --
or any of the replacement candidates.
"I think he's good-ol'-boy
Humboldt County," Hitchko said.
STEVE
SCHECTMAN: Proud rebel
Steve Schectman knew from early
on that he wanted to be what one of his mentors called an "Oh,
shit" lawyer -- one who, when his opposition knew he was
on a case, would say, "Oh, shit! Not that guy!"
One wonders if it wasn't partly
the "oh shit" factor that led Schectman to join the
district attorney race. He seems to delight in the idea of being
the outsider, the troublemaker, the smart, mad-dog attorney who
stirs things up and fights the system -- always in the cause
of justice, he says. Indeed, the deputy district attorneys, the
men and women who now work under Gallegos, were said to be roundly
horrified at the prospect of working for Schectman, a civil litigator
with no prosecutorial experience. "I don't believe he has
any interest in the criminal aspects of the office," said
Deputy District Attorney Maggie Fleming, who's worked there 10
years. "He speaks only as to one lawsuit and has had no
practically experience as to criminal cases. I don't think he's
ever expressed an interest in what the office does except for
that one lawsuit."
Pacific Lumber might have a
similar reaction, Schectman speculated. In the unlikely event
that no one else ran for the seat, "Pacific Lumber would
have to oppose the recall!" he says, laughing at the delicious
prospect.
Of course, Pacific Lumber, one
of Humboldt County's largest private employers, is the No. 1
reason why he entered the race, he says. "This recall is
bad. It's bad because it's being funded and motivated almost
exclusively by one source. That's Pacific Lumber Co."
Schectman, like many of Gallegos'
supporters, says the company is backing the recall of Gallegos
-- to the tune of more than $225,000 as of early this week --
because the DA filed the now-infamous multimillion fraud suit
against it shortly after taking office last year. "Rather
than have their day in court," Schectman alleges, "they
have decided to buy an election." The 51-year-old civil
attorney has pushed that message consistently through the media
and in candidate forums. "You've got one corporation running
the show here, obviously behind the recall, and saying, `Don't
pay attention to that man behind the curtain!'"
For him and Humboldt County's
large progressive bloc, the allegations from the pro-recall faction
that Gallegos is "soft on crime" just do not wash.
"It's interesting that a defendant in a case pending in
the District Attorney's Office is asserting that he's soft on
crime," Schectman says, returning again to PL. Law enforcement
is jumping on the bandwagon because of their own personal views,
he says: They simply do not like Gallegos. He came into office
last year as an outsider, a defense attorney, the guy they had
faced across the courtroom, the guy who defended the "sleazebags."
Humboldt County's physical and economic isolation has made the
cops a powerful force, he says. "We're like an island nation.
It's been a good-ol'-boy club here for a long time."
Schectman has prided himself
on never being one of the "good ol' boys."
On a recent afternoon, Schectman,
dressed in blue jeans and a black sweater, relaxed on the deck
of his Sunny Brae home and talked about his history of being
the scrappy outsider. Born in Chicago, Schectman was raised in
the Albany Park area, a neighborhood of Jews and Puerto Ricans.
With immigrant grandparents, he grew up hearing both Yiddish
and English at home, though his parents wanted Schectman and
his sister to learn only English. He attended Drake University
in Des Moines, Iowa, "to try to play football," but
lasted on the team just half a season. A highly conservative
private school, Drake was a strange place for this self-described
radical. But Schectman seems unfazed by being an oddball, a minority.
After graduating from Drake,
he traveled throughout South America for a year, then hooked
up with Tom Hayden's 1975 campaign for U.S. Senate. (Hayden lost
in the primary, but later became a state Assembly and Senate
member from Santa Monica.) As part of the job, he wrote a portion
of Hayden's campaign platform, attended meetings at the home
of Hayden and his then-wife, actress Jane Fonda, and "drove
Jane around a lot."
He toyed with journalism as
a career, then decided to go to law school. But he resisted doing
it the "establishment" way. Instead, he attended the
then-unaccredited New College of California School of Law in
San Francisco for a year, then apprenticed with Berkeley attorney
Len Holt, a black civil rights lawyer. He was admitted to the
California Bar in 1981.
Schectman and some fellow attorneys
opened what they called the West Bay Law Collective in the heart
of San Francisco's Mission District, and dove into the wide-open
field of eviction defense, charging clients as little as $5 or
$10 per hour. "We saw how most tenants were getting evicted
without ever getting to court," he says. He soon began winning
unheard-of judgments: $30,000 in one case, then $150,000, then
$4.3 million in a case involving the attempted illegal conversion
of a San Francisco residential hotel to tourist use.
"Steve is a wonderful,
wonderful attorney," said his former San Francisco law partner,
Frances Pinnock. "He really put tenants law on the map in
San Francisco. When I first met him, his small law collective
-- they were like the real radicals. They were the first people
who were really fighting, and they were making no money. It was
Steve's inspiration and brilliance that started it. He's a visionary."
Schectman's last big case in
San Francisco was also the one that indirectly led him to Humboldt
County. He represented eight secretaries in a sex and age discrimination
case against the venerable law firm of Pillsbury Madison and
Sutro (now Pillsbury Winthrop LLP), which was settled in 1997
for an undisclosed amount that attorneys said was in the millions.
When Schectman later heard that
the same firm was representing Pacific Lumber in the case of
the marbled murrelet, he called the Environmental Protection
Information Center in Garberville, saying, you need some office
space, some phones? Use my San Francisco office.
That led, in 1998, to his move
to Humboldt County. Schectman and his wife, dancer Lizbeth Fuentes
Rosner, were caught in the city's housing crunch, and San Francisco
life held less allure for the couple, whose children were then
5 and 2. "It wasn't fun going to restaurants anymore,"
he quipped.
More important, he wanted to
fight Pacific Lumber against his adversary, Pillsbury Madison
and Sutro. "It was THE reason why we came," he says.
"I wanted to bring what I felt was my unique litigation
experiences to the issues here."
He worked with Eureka attorney
Bill Bertain on the Stafford landslide case, which resulted in
a $3.2 million settlement in favor of property owners who had
sued Pacific Lumber. Schectman also won a settlement in the case
of David "Gypsy" Chain, the protester who was killed
when a tree cut by a logger fell on him in 1998. The logger had
shouted obscenities and threats at the protesters in a confrontation
about an hour before Chain's death.
Now, Schectman says he does
mainly labor law, and currently has no major cases.
His motivation for fighting
the recall? He had the time and the background on PL, he said.
And he has the passion. "I was outraged that they would
do something as bold as this," to fund a recall campaign.
Though he has been one of Gallegos'
most vocal supporters, Schectman says that he and the DA are
not pals. "I don't really know him," he says. "I've
met him a couple times."
GLORIA
ALBIN SHEETS: Fiery 'Humboldt girl'
When she graduated from law
school in 1994, Gloria Sheets had no idea what kind of law she
wanted to practice. She had already spent 20 years working as
a receptionist, bookkeeper and paralegal in law offices, and
thought she would do civil law. Then a friend who was a public
defender invited her to sit in on a trial he was conducting.
"Maybe you'll get the bug," he told her.
Sheets spent a week listening
in on the case, which involved a young girl who was the victim
of a violent crime -- a case very similar to one she herself
had been involved in as a teenager. (She prefers to keep the
details private.) She identified with the victim, and felt as
if the world were giving her an irrefutable message. "I
totally got the bug," she said, but she didn't want to be
a defense attorney like her friend. "It was like -- whoa!
-- I want to be a prosecutor."
This self-described "Humboldt
girl" has been an outspoken opponent of Paul Gallegos throughout
the final weeks of the recall campaign. A registered Republican
and former deputy district attorney under Farmer and Gallegos,
Sheets has minced no words about the current DA, calling him
everything from incompetent to dishonest to "ridiculously
lenient" on criminals. She has exhorted voters to "look
at the files and look at the cases that have been handled."
The political polar opposite
of Schectman, Sheets says the recall has nothing to do with Pacific
Lumber and everything to do with crime.
"This is about lack of
experience of a prosecutor handling cases that the DA is not
equipped to handle," she says.
Like the other replacement candidates,
Sheets has no political experience, and says she is running now
to challenge Gallegos' record and make Humboldt County a safer
place.
"This election is about
little girls being raped forcibly and the perpetrator being allowed
to get out in about 13 1/2 years," she says, referring to
the case of Pedro Martinez-Hernandez, the Ferndale molester who
has become the poster child for Gallegos' alleged ineptitude.
"Gallegos is supposed to be your DA. He's not supposed
to still be a defense attorney."
Born in Tacoma, Wash., Sheets,
58, grew up in Blue Lake, where her brother, Tom Sheets, later
served as mayor. She still has many relatives in the area and
describes her family as "very tight." Her father, a
logger for Walker Brothers Logging, was killed by a felled tree
in Redwood Valley, when she was 21. "It was devastating
to my family," she says.
Life was hard early on for Sheets,
who married young and had her first child, a son, at 18. A girl
came four years later, and her husband left when their son was
10. Forced to find a job, she began working in the first of several
law offices.
When she was 44, Sheets decided
to go to law school at Empire College School of Law in Santa
Rosa. Already a grandmother, she was undeterred by the idea of
starting a challenging career relatively late. "I thought,
in four years, I'll either have a law degree or I won't,"
she says. "I'll be 48 either way." Upon graduation,
she returned to Humboldt County, where she married Chet Albin,
a retired insurance broker in Eureka. They are now divorced.
(She declines to say how many times she has been wed.)
Despite her accomplishments,
Sheets is no feminist. "With women's lib, all we did was
liberate ourselves into work," she says. She blames today's
crime on absent parents. "Nobody's raising their kids."
Sheets was hired in 1994 to
be one of then-DA Terry Farmer's deputy district attorneys. She
has praised her former colleagues for their talent and professionalism,
though the admiration has not always been returned. Some in the
office have said that Sheets was not in the top tier of deputies,
and last May, Gallegos terminated her position.
The county's personnel office
says that her job was cut due to budget constraints and the loss
of a grant. Sheets maintains that the termination came on the
same day she filed a workers' compensation claim for a back condition.
She subsequently filed two administrative complaints with state
agencies regarding her dismissal, which are still pending. She
rejects the possibility that her attacks on Gallegos are fueled
by her personal history with him.
Since leaving the job, she has
refurbished the modest home she bought off Old Arcata Road, and
does not need to work, she says. "I own my house, I own
my car. I've got some resources." She still struggles with
her back problems, she says. "I have to ice it, I have to
take some medications. Be gentle with myself."
Along with campaigning, which
has consumed her life since December, Sheets says she often does
pro bono work for friends of friends -- mostly giving advice
about how the legal system works. "Attorneys almost act
like a barrier to the legal system. People are so intimidated
by the legal system. Nobody tells them [how it works]. It's like
this big secret. So I enjoy trying to bridge that gap. That's
one of the things I've been talking about in my campaign. I will
pick up the phone and talk to people."
Late last week, Sheets showed
a visitor around her home, which doubles as her campaign headquarters
and contains her lamp collection and evidence of her main hobby:
pieces of furniture she's refinished with patterns of ceramic
tiles. She would never tile a brand-new table, she says. "I
like to take broken things or old things and refurbish them or
repair them and make them new and beautiful." Her assistant,
Rachel Wilson, sat at a table, carefully assembling financial
information. The two met at the Faith Center church in Eureka,
where Sheets attends services and leads a group called "Celebrate
Recovery."
On Monday, she was feeling discouraged
about the race. She had missed a scheduled appearance at a spaghetti
feed in Orick because of car problems, and was not able to contact
the organizer. She was disgusted about reports that her signs
in Willow Creek were removed and replaced with Gallegos signs.
And she said she was tired of the "lies" swirling around,
such as her alleged ties to Pacific Lumber.
If she has been bought by the
company, she says, "the check must have gotten lost in the
mail because I haven't seen nickel one."
Former Pacific Lumber CEO John
Campbell did purchase $100 worth of raffle tickets for her fund-raiser,
Sheets said, but her campaign finance statements show no other
contributions from the company. She has raised just over $23,000
since Jan. 1 -- $18,000 of which consisted of loans from herself.
Her largest contribution from an individual was $500.
Despite the setbacks, Sheets
says she's "something of an idealist." Her father used
to say, What makes you think life is fair? "I'm still looking
for fairness," she says.
Wives and colleagues
by EMILY
GURNON and KEITH EASTHOUSE
Paul Gallegos and Worth Dikeman
have at least one thing in common: They're both married to lawyers.
What follows are quick looks at the women, and professionals,
behind these two very public figures.
Geri Anne Johnson leaned forward at her desk in the well-appointed
offices of the Harland Law Firm in Eureka, where she is a partner.
An animated woman with long, strawberry blond hair and an easy
laugh, she talked about her reaction to being the wife of a suddenly
famous person -- DA recall candidate Worth Dikeman. "Do
you know how weird it is to see your husband's name on a bumper?"
she said.
Johnson said she does not exactly
relish being thrust into the public eye since Dikeman announced
his candidacy. She knew it might happen, she said, when she noted
her husband's reaction to the announcement by Steve Schectman
that he would run. "Worth was very upset. Very upset,"
Johnson, 51, said. "Everyone there was. He kept saying,
`Someone's got to do something about this!'" No one in the
DA's office wanted to have a civil litigator, with no experience
as a prosecutor, as their boss.
Still, Johnson said she was
"shocked, astonished" when Dikeman told her he wanted
to join the race. He called her just after talking to Gallegos
about it, and she understands his decision, she said. But Dikeman
had never before expressed any desire to run for public office,
never had political aspirations.
The couple's daughter, 23-year-old
Bonny Johnson, an HSU journalism major, sometimes accompanies
her father to campaign events. Their son, Adam Dikeman, a CR
student, tends to resist the limelight -- like she does, Johnson
said.
"It's like being in a cartoon
when you don't want to be," she said, laughing. "Author
-- write me out!"
There's an affectionate family
joke about Dikeman, Johnson said, that he's a "one-trick
pony," like the one described in the Paul Simon song. He's
a one-trick pony He makes it look so easy, he looks so clean,
he moves like God's immaculate machine. He makes me think about
all of these extra movements I make and all this herky-jerky
motion and the bag of tricks it takes to get me through my working
day. Dikeman is a prosecutor, Johnson said. It's his life.
Along with a little reading and gardening, it's all he does.
And next to being at home, a courtroom is his most comfortable
space, she said.
What happens if her husband
is driven from the District Attorney's Office? Joan Gallegos
didn't hesitate.
"We'll still be here. We'll
be fine, regardless. The question is whether this community will
be fine."
Gallegos, talking recently to
a reporter at a downtown restaurant, paused as if to order her
thoughts.
"We're at such a crossroads
as to where this community wants to head," she said. "This
is a huge litmus test. Either we'll remain tied up in medieval
times, with the old boy network, backroom deals and justice for
the privileged few that have access to the [DA's] office. Or
we'll have equal enforcement of the laws and an independent [top]
prosecutor."
Many have spoken of the chilling
effect on future Humboldt County DAs if the recall is successful.
But Gallegos emphasized the chilling effect on another group:
judges. "If the recall goes through, they'll know that if
they rule against a corporation, they can count on having a heavily
funded opponent in the next election."
A sandy-haired woman with a
relaxed air, Gallegos, who is 38, met her husband when the two
were law students at the University of Laverne in Los Angeles.
"It was like love at first sight, at least for me,"
Gallegos recalled, saying that the two met at a gathering of
law students at a pizza and beer joint.
After practicing law for a while
in southern California, and wearying of spending most of their
time either in court or in their cars going to and from court,
the two, a married couple now, moved to Humboldt after falling
in love with the area during a weekend getaway.
Arriving on New Year's Eve 1993,
they spent a couple of years living in a rental in Old Town before
buying the Cutten home they live in today. Along the way they
had three children, two boys and a girl. Oh, and they ran a successful
law practice, with her husband doing mostly criminal defense
work while she did what she continues to do today -- family law.
She joked that she gets more
death threats through her work than through her husband's. But
she turned serious when asked about the recent break-ins at the
home in Cutten.
"I am pissed. Can I say
it was Palco? No. But I find the timing very suspicious."
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