By Ryan Burns / Yesterday, 6:22 p.m.

CR One Step From Losing Accreditation

College of the Redwoods was notified Friday that it has been placed on “show cause” accreditation status by the Accrediting Commission for Junior and Community Colleges (ACCJC), due to deficiencies that date back to 1999. The “show cause” sanction is the final step before losing accreditation.

In a letter to Interim Superintendent/President Uptal Goswami, the ACCJC outlined nine recommendations for coming back into compliance with standards. Judging from the recommendations, the deficiencies at CR are serious and wide-ranging — from the measurement of student outcomes to distribution of course syllabi, insufficient employee evaluations and sub-par communication from the Board of Trustees.

The college will be required to submit a report documenting measures taken to address the deficiencies by October 15 of this year. If the college fails to demonstrate “consistent and reliable compliance” with ACCJC standards, it will lose its accreditation in January, 2013.

(MORE)

By Ryan Burns / Yesterday, 1:48 p.m.

Floyd and Betty Squires Ordered to Pay City of Eureka $26K

Humboldt County’s most infamous slumlords have been ordered to pay the City of Eureka more than $26,000 in attorneys’ fees. Floyd and Betty Squires unsuccessfully sued the City last year, arguing that they had been unfairly singled out for renting substandard hovels. 

If you’re unfamiliar with the Squireses track record, some highlights lowlights can be found here, here and here.

Here’s the press release from the City of Eureka:

The Humboldt County Superior Court has granted the City of Eureka’s motion for Attorneys’ Fees against Floyd and Betty Squires. The City was awarded the entire amount requested of $26,521.26. The City requested reimbursement of the fees it had incurred when it was forced to defend a lawsuit filed by the Squires against the City claiming that the City had no basis to enforce code violations for substandard housing at numerous properties owned by the Squires.

The City continues to move forward in its lawsuit against the Squires for substandard housing at numerous properties within the City of Eureka.

By Ryan Burns / Feb. 2, 3:48 p.m.

Former CR President On Verge of Dismissal

UPDATE 7:52 p.m.: Marsee has been placed on administrative leave.

It must feel like déjà vu for controversial former College of the Redwoods President/Superintendent Jeff Marsee.

Just eight months into his new job as president of San Joaquin Delta College, Marsee on Monday received overwhelming votes of “no confidence” from staff and faculty unions (whose complaints sound remarkably similar to those leveled against him by CR employees). Delta College’s Board of Trustees is meeting today to discuss the possible discipline or termination of Marsee.

Critics at Delta accuse Marsee of showing “blatant disregard” for policies and procedures, being “dictatorial,” failing to communicate transparently and employing “intimidation and fear tactics” — a litany that reflects local complaints nearly word for word.

One complaint we didn’t hear while Marsee was at CR? This one, as reported by the Lodi News Sentinel:

In one memorable presentation, a student stepped forward to say he had been a victim of harassment regarding his sexuality, and that requests for help from Marsee and others in the administration went unheeded.

“I went to Marsee’s office and told him what was happening,” said Jimmy Altes. “He looked at me and said, ‘If you don’t want to be harassed or bullied for being gay, don’t be gay.’”

Curiosities / By Heidi Walters / Feb. 2, 12:41 a.m.

Tristan and Zoltar

“Psst,” said Marty L’Herault, waving a hand from inside the velvety dark curve of his horse-drawn buggy parked on the side of F Street.

The setting sun had shellacked the fronts of the old-timey buildings around the plaza in gaudy gilded pinks, and the pigeons had all tucked in behind their spiny rain-gutter fortresses for the night. No rain. No gray. Big planets lining up with the half moon. Beauty and portent thick in the air.

L’Herault cradled a shiny new black ukulele, a cheapy but a goodie, and plucked a few lines. “Check out this guy,” he said, nodding at a young man in a gold ski hat standing in front of the jewelry store across the street. “He’s been there all afternoon. He’s the buy-local fortune teller.” L’Herault laughed.

Tristan Bangs was only barely local, a transplant from Portland. He stood ramrod straight, knees and feet together, inside a tiny white circle he’d chalked on the sidewalk a few feet from the genie Zoltar sitting inside a lighted box. In front of his circle he’d chalked in huge letters “Local Fortune Speller.” His outstretched arms supported a big old electric typewriter case, propped open. In rows of pockets on the inside of the lid he’d tucked little rolled up pieces of cash register paper with typed messages on them. In the bottom of the case were his earnings so far: a ten-buck coffee cash card, a dollar bill and some change. He glanced at Zoltar.

“He charges dollars; I just want cents,” Bangs said. “I even give them away.”

Sure, he’d zoomed in on Zoltar’s game. But Zoltar got back at him.

“When he speaks, he makes me laugh,” Bangs said. “Every time.” Which is bad, you know. A man offering fortunes should be somewhat serious.

On cue, Zoltar dropped his favorite guilt-tripping come-on line: “I see you over there. Yes you. Come on over to Zoltar and let me tell you your fortune.”

Bangs grinned, then forced his mouth closed into a crooked line.

He’d sold and given away about 50 fortunes in the past two days, first in Arcata and now here next to Zoltar. One lady, today, had been really grouchy when she’d got her fortune — “positive experiences are something everyone can relate to” — and she’d come back to rip on him about how crappy the world is. She asked if he really wanted to hear all that, and he said yeah, sure, lay it on me.

“And then she started smiling,” said Bangs.

A woman came out of the jewelery shop, not smiling, unplugged Zoltar before he could sound off again, and rolled him into the shop for the night.

A fortune seeker dropped 75 cents into the typewriter case. Reached for a rolled-up fortune. Unfurled it and read the faint type:

“sound off    to show

off    to get back”

Uh?

Zoltarrrr! Come back out here. Let me give you my money and you tell me my fortune.

h/t Marty L’Herault:

obits / By Heidi Walters / Jan. 27, 7:49 p.m.

Danny Ray’s Last Days

Back on Jan. 5, when I wandered into the marsh near the Bayshore Mall to interview some homeless campers, most everyone was still talking about the big flood that blew out some of their camps one early Saturday morning a couple months before. A water pipe had bust somewhere nearby — crash and roar and then here came the water, four-inches-deep of it rushing in like the Russian River, said camper William Dean Hermann. Like a lot of others, he and his wife, Cassie, had had to up-stakes in a hurry.

“I said, ‘Honey, put on your boots, put on your coat, grab your pack, just be ready,’” Hermann said. “I put on my boots, coat, pack. I looked up again — now the water’s six inches. Didn’t stop for hours.”

A kinda scrawny but fairly clean-cut man stood nearby, listening. He wore a fuzzy red-and-blue plaid flannel shirt, blue jeans and crisp white sneakers. When Hermann finished talking, he took a turn.

“I woke up in eight inches of water,” the man said in a steeply pitched hill twang.

His name was Danny Ray Jones. And, now, most everyone in that part of the marsh might be talking about him, because sometime between late night Sunday, Jan. 23, and early Monday morning the 24th, Danny Ray Jones died just outside his tent.

Deputy Coroner Roy Horton said Jones, who was 51, most likely died from a prescription drug overdose possibly complicated by alcohol. “He had a prescription of oxycodone just three days old that was supposed to last a month, and the bottle was empty,” said Horton, adding that people he interviewed in the marsh said Jones might have had a drinking problem.

It will be a few weeks before the drug screen comes back, Horton said.

Horton has spoken with Jones’ family, including a brother who’s a long-haul trucker and who had stopped a couple of times on his way through town to check on Danny Ray at his tent behind the mall.

That day I met Danny Ray, he told me he’d lived in Eureka about seven years but had only been sleeping in the marsh for a month — ever since he got kicked out of his house.

“I’ve never been homeless in my life,” he said, his voice choking up and his eyes watering. “I’m a working fool. But I got hurt on the job — fell off a ladder and shattered my hip, building a house. They put in a new hip, but now they want me to do it again.”

He was waiting for an insurance settlement to come through. And he’d had some financial problems, he said, with some family back in Tennessee. Although, he was really proud of his son, he said, and walked to his tent to bring out a walking stick his son had carved for him. When he got that settlement, maybe he and his long-time friend, Hobo, would get a place in town. He spoke with a poignant formality. He seemed angry to be where he was, and at what people might think of him.

“I’m clean,” he said, defiantly, gesturing at his tidy campsite. “I get my garbage out of here every day.”

Homeless advocate John Shelter, who has worked with homeless campers for years, said for someone like Danny Ray Jones — in pain and facing another surgery and who knows when that might be — it can be easy to lose hope out in the marsh.

“He was in a lot of pain and the cold wetness just made things worse,” Shelter said. “He ate too many pain pills and washed them down with some wine.”

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