Showing posts with label Award Winner. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Award Winner. Show all posts

Sunday

September 27, 2007 - County Libraries Will Reopen

Book lovers could see Jackson County's libraries open their doors before November after commissioners Wednesday unanimously approved a five-year contract to outsource the operation of all 15 branches.

Maryland-based Library Systems and Services LLC expects to hire 50 to 60 library workers by the end of next week for its initial startup, said Frank Pezzanite, president and chief executive officer for the company, known by the acronym LSSI.

"We've been through this before," said Pezzanite, who remembers hiring 101 workers in Riverside County, California, over a weekend. "It's nothing new for us."

Jackson County's libraries will become the second-largest system operated by LSSI, just behind Riverside, which has 32 branches.

The Medford library, at 83,000 square feet, is the largest single facility operated by LSSI, which operates a total of 65 libraries throughout the country.

The company began interviewing former county library employees and others this week. LSSI plans to open the libraries during the first week in November, but Pezzanite said it could be sooner if a quicker way can be found to reestablish Internet connections for all the branches.

"It will be exciting to get the libraries open for the community," said Pezzanite.

He predicted that library patrons should notice very little change in the way the libraries function, apart from reduced hours. "We put a lot of emphasis on public service," he said. "We try to get our people out of the back room to help the public."

The county's contract with LSSI is $3,048,948 for the first year of the agreement, but because the contract starts on Oct. 1 — three months into the budget year — the county will pay 75 percent, or $2,286,711. For fiscal year 2008-09, the LSSI contract is $3,140,416. Another $1.3 million will be spent by the county annually for utilities, facility maintenance, landscaping, telephones, custodial services and the computer system known as SOLIS.

The total amount to run the library system is about half what it was previously.

Pezzanite said salaries will be roughly comparable to what employees received from the county. He said the benefits also will be about the same except the retirement package will not have the Public Employees Retirement System benefits.

He said LSSI offers other benefits the county doesn't provide, such as tuition reimbursement and a bonus program.

Opening the Medford library for only about 24 hours a week isn't optimal, said Pezzanite, who said it would be preferable to have a big library like Medford's or Ashland's open for 60 or more hours a week.

The county's libraries closed April 6 after the loss of a federal timber safety-net funds. Since then the county received a one-year extension of about $23 million that will help pay for the libraries to reopen.

"This has been a fairly difficult process," said Commissioner C.W. Smith. "This has been a fairly painful process. We took a lot of criticism from the community."

Smith said the county will be working with various communities that might want to augment the hours of operation at their local branches. The county anticipates it will be able to fund the libraries for two-and-one-half years to three years.

"Is it perfect?," he said. "No it's not perfect, but it's a good beginning."

Commissioner Dave Gilmour said the county still must figure out a permanent solution to fund the libraries, possibly by creating a special library district.

Kathleen Davis, chair of the Library Advisory Board, said she reviewed the county's proposal with LSSI and applauded the effort in putting it together and reopening libraries.

"Thanks for taking this courageous step," she said.

Reach reporter Damian Mann at 776-4476 or dmann@mailtribune.com.

October 5, 2008 - Memories of The Fall

In the midst of the Great Depression, Dolores Schwalb's mother urged her and her sisters to put on their prettiest dresses and squeeze some fresh lemonade.

A man was coming to shut off the water at their Central Point home after they couldn't pay the bill. Her mother wanted the family to look its best and to be as polite as possible.

"We gave him the lemonade and he turned the water off," Schwalb recalled.

But he left something behind — a tool that allowed them to turn the water back on.

"People back then helped each other," she said.

Like many Americans, Schwalb has been nervously watching the news as banks close, real estate prices plunge, jobs are lost and the stock market tumbles.

It's a scene financial analysts have said is the worst economic crisis since the Great Depression that started when the stock market crashed 79 years ago on Oct. 29, 1929.

"It's pretty shocking for those of us who have been through it," the Medford resident said.

Schwalb and other members of the Medford Senior Center last week shared their reminiscences of the Great Depression, a time of both hardship and camaraderie among family and neighbors.

While they see similarities between then and now, they hope this generation will be smarter and prevent the country from sliding into further financial crisis.

"People are wise enough that it is never going to get that way," Schwalb said.

As unsettling as the current financial crisis is, it still pales in comparison to the 1930s, when the unemployment rate reached 25 percent. Oregon's unemployment rate today is 6.5 percent; nationally it's 6.1 percent.

Even if the world found itself plunged into another depression, Schwalb said she would survive.

"That training that we went through when we were children means that we know we could get what we need," she said. "Not what we wanted — what we needed."

Schwalb, who is writing her memoirs, said money dried up in the 1930s after the banks closed, so people resorted to bartering for goods. The mills closed in Jackson County and her father lost his job.

But everyone had their own gardens and made their own bread and butter, she said. And every woman had a sewing machine to darn socks and repair clothes.

After the Depression, Schwalb helped operate an egg farm for a few years in Pennsylvania and ran a training facility for handicapped children in Medford, eventually adopting two of the children.

Now an art restoration expert, Schwalb said she is not concerned about her own financial future. "I'm concerned about the young people and the business people," she said.

Hardship would be more difficult on a younger generation accustomed to owning so many gadgets and having so many conveniences, she said.

Martha Kaufman

For some survivors of the Depression, the current financial collapse is more than unsettling.

"It's a sad, sad time," said Martha Kaufman.

The 89-year-old who has lived in Medford since 1979 grew up in Kent, Ohio, and was 10 years old when the Depression began.

While the economic downturn hasn't affected her yet, Kaufman worries it could cause suffering for many if it continues.

She said her son bought a house a couple of years ago in Boulder, Colo., with a no-down-payment loan. He's doing fine, but needs roommates to pay the mortgage. "He'll do all right as long as he has a job," she said.

Running out of money is nothing new for Kaufman. In fact, it is one of her earliest memories.

Before the Depression, Kaufman had saved $300 from raising celery, a substantial sum in those days.

When the bank closed, she couldn't get her money out. When it reopened, it would only lend her the $300.

"I basically lost it," she said.

Because she lived on a farm, she had plenty of food. Kaufman remembered walking down the street one day and seeing apples selling for 5 cents apiece — a lot of money, she thought.

She said everything was traded or grown on the farm and few people received paychecks.

"We had food in our bellies, but no stuff called money," she said.

Occasionally men would knock on their door asking for a handout or a meal.

"There were lots of hungry people," she said. "My mother always had something for the vagabond to eat."

Stories of people jumping out of windows in New York after losing all they had remain vivid in her mind. As do the lean Christmases during the Depression.

"The main thing I remember was Santa Claus didn't bring any presents under the tree," she said.

With more people out of work and struggling to survive, she said, "I wonder what Santa Claus will bring this year.

"It does not look good."

Iris Glanzman

Iris Glanzman said she wasn't too aware of the Great Depression when it rolled through South Dakota.

"I don't think it affected me too much because everybody was in the same situation," said the 89-year-old Medford resident. "I remember the banker suddenly disappeared. I remember reading about all the suicides."

Her father was a teacher who was paid in warrants, which soon lost their value. Warrants were like checks, but they cleared only if the funds were available in the account.

The only place in town that would accept her father's warrants was the general store, where her family could get dry goods.

Neighbors all had big gardens and her mother canned the vegetables for winter. But her father sometimes found their situation difficult to bear.


"He said he would not be able to take care of his family," Glanzman said.

The financial troubles that have stricken the country today seem different to her, but are still worrisome, she said.

She said she receives regular calls from her financial adviser. She had some money in financially shaken AIG, but her adviser told her the principal is safe.

Even though she heard encouraging news about the rescue of the financial markets, she wondered how long the economy could survive with so many struggling companies.

"How safe is safe?" she said.

May Harrison

May Harrison recalled a time of sparseness and making do with what you had, when you couldn't buy just anything you wanted.

The 96-year-old Medford woman, who married at age 16, said she's not as concerned about her own survival during these tough economic times as she is for the younger generation.

"Teenagers now wouldn't be able to stand it," she said.

There are some similarities today with the Great Depression that give her pause.

"It borders on it, but it's not the real thing," she said.

When the Great Depression hit, her family had to move from the city to a farm to survive.

Harrison remembered her sister's surprise when they arrived at a farm 30 miles outside Muskogee, Okla., and it didn't have all the conveniences they were used to.

"She said, 'Where is the bathroom?' " Harrison said. "It was funny now, but it wasn't funny then."

Being a worker all her life, Harrison developed a good memory for prices. When she was young, a gallon of gas cost 9 cents, a dozen eggs 10 cents.

Trouble was, no one had the money to buy anything. "You didn't have the 9 cents," she said.

Harrison had to leave school as a teenager so she could work, but she eventually graduated in 1960 in Medford.

She credited the government programs during the 1930s with helping bring the country out of its financial crisis. She also said the leadership of the president was extremely important for her.

"Franklin Roosevelt — I would vote for him again," she said.

Her memories of the Great Depression have had a strong impact on her through her adult years.

"It stays with you all your life," she said.

Edgar Lupton Sr.

Even though Edgar Lupton Sr. survived the Depression, he is dismayed by the current financial crisis.

"I think it stinks," said the 94-year-old Medford resident.

He's not sure the $700 billion bailout, signed by President Bush on Friday, will be enough to prevent the country's economy from sliding further.

Born in 1914, Lupton said times were particularly tough in New Jersey, and he remembered his father always working to make sure food was on the table.

His family was among the lucky ones.

"I would see a lot of people walking on the street looking for something to eat," he said. "You couldn't get a cent, though."

He tried to join a government work program but didn't qualify because his father was working at the time.

Lupton comes five days a week to the Medford Senior Center for what he describes as the best meal of the day. He said there was nothing like the food he gets for lunch available for elderly people during the Depression.

Now, as he hears about more layoffs, he hopes there won't be a repeat of the 1930s and the deprivation that ensued.

"I'm just wondering about my Social Security," he said.

Marcia Skinner

The current financial crisis is all too familiar to Marcia Skinner, who lived through the Depression.

Born in Central Point, she has lived in Medford all her life. Her father lost his savings when the financial institutions collapsed in 1929, but a garden, a cow and a lot of perseverance helped her family survive without too much suffering or wanting for food.

With memories of her father's savings still in her mind, she wonders about the security of her own retirement account.

"Now it's scary," she said. "Most of us have worked hard to take care of our old age."

Apart from her few memories of the Great Depression, Skinner said, "In my lifetime I have never seen such fear."

She said it is dismaying to watch Washington lawmakers handle the crisis.

"It doesn't seem like we have any solid statesmen," she said. "It's a crazy time. It makes you sick because it can go downhill in such a short time."

Even though the financial institutions have been reckless in recent years, so have individuals who took on risky investments or signed no-interest loans.

"It seems we brought it on ourselves," Skinner said.

Reach reporter Damian Mann at 776-4476 or dmann@mailtribune.com.

May 15, 2005 - A Tough Road

By Damian Mann
Mail Tribune

Eddie Esquivel spent much of his adult life behind bars, his upper body covered with prison tattoos proclaiming his former allegiance to the Surenos gang in Southern California.

His wife Sholo’s skin is scarred from years of heroin addiction that have left a broken needle still lodged in an arm she almost lost to gangrene.

"We would have never gotten out of that life if we hadn’t moved to Oregon," she says.

The Gold Hill couple, both 44, say they are alarmed at a rise in gang activity locally. Law enforcement has identified roughly 300 people who have affiliations with gangs, 75 of them core members.

"We’ve seen it growing slowly here," says Sholo. "It is getting more serious."

"This is like virgin land for a gang member," adds Eddie, also a recovering heroin addict who works as a tree trimmer.

The Esquivels applaud efforts by local authorities to get a handle on gang activity before it gets out of control. And though they have some misgivings about revealing their story, they hope recounting their experiences will serve as a warning to the community and its youth about the devastating effects of gangs.

Eddie came from a troubled home and spent years in foster care. At age 12 or 13, he joined a gang while living in the Santa Barbara area.

He was nicknamed "Big Oso," or Big Bear. He once had to fight a rival gang member just because he had the same nickname.

Eddie eventually became hooked on heroin, feeding his addiction even though he would vomit three or four times a day after shooting up. The stomach acids eventually ate the enamel of his teeth, rotting some of them away.

He spent much of his 20s in and out of prison, mostly for burglaries to pay for his addiction.

That’s when he received the tattoos over his upper body to let other prisoners know his gang affiliation. On his right shoulder, he has a tattoo with "SUR," standing for Surenos, a Southern California gang. On his stomach in big letters it says "Santa Bruto," slang for Santa Barbara.

Embarrassed now to show his tattoos, he says, "I don’t like other people to see them."

Sholo came from a more stable family and though she ran around with gangs, she didn’t become a permanent member. She, too, became addicted to heroin, as did one of her brothers. Another brother became an alcoholic and is now in rehabilitation.

Despite all her troubles, Sholo says, "My family never turned their back on me."

Sholo says she got hooked on heroin after caving into peer pressure to use the drug, even though she knew it was the wrong choice to make.

"In my heart, I knew I really didn’t want to do it," says Sholo. "That’s why I think it was so hard on my body."

She occasionally rubs the needle under her skin that broke off when another addict was shooting her up with heroin. Doctors told her it would do more damage to the surrounding muscle tissue to remove it.

The effects of gang activity and drug abuse have taken a toll not only on Sholo, but on loved ones as well.

"I’ve lost friend after friend after friend," she says.

"I’m not stupid, but I’ve done a lot of stupid things," says Sholo, who adds she has shot up heroin in every part of her body, from her neck to her feet.

"Once you’re hooked, it owns you and not the other way around," she says.

When the couple first met at a library about 16 years ago, they quickly figured out that they were both recovering addicts and knew the odds were against them.

"People kept telling us: ‘One dope fiend is another dope fiend’s nightmare,’" says Eddie.

He remembers feeling fearful the first time he went to meet Sholo’s family members, who weren’t gang members themselves but lived in a neighborhood run by the Nortenos gang. Eddie avoided wearing any telltale colors and made sure he wore clothing that covered up his tattoos.

They hoped that by moving to Oregon it would help lick their habit for good.

Eddie says he spent most of his 30s avoiding trouble and prison. But six years ago, temptation led them both back into heroin.

They remember being shocked when they heard of a Portland couple addicted to heroin who committed suicide together.

"It just as easily could have been us," says Sholo.

Eddie remembers being agonized at their situation. "We were on our knees asking God for help," he says.

Their problems culminated in a 1998 arrest in a drug deal gone bad in Klamath Falls.

Eddie got a year in prison for possession and Sholo spent four years behind bars for delivery of the drug, getting out in 2002.

Eddie went through a six-month rehabilitation program that he says finally made him turn the corner in 2000.

Eddie realized that the gangs and colors had lost their significance when a pastor he hadn’t seen for a while asked him for a hug.

"The pastor says, ‘You gave me a hug and I’m wearing red,’" Eddie remembered him saying. "That opened the door and I realized it wasn’t just about colors."

Sholo says their battles with addiction have been tough on them both, almost ending their marriage.

She adds with conviction, "We’re not going back to that."

Sholo and Eddie would like to get more involved in the community to share their story with others, hoping to spare some children from the life they’ve led.

At this point, they don’t see gangs overrunning the valley, but the potential is there and they want to keep as many youngsters as possible away from older, seasoned gang members.

"Right now it is not together, but it will get that way anyway," predicted Sholo. "Still you want to save a chunk of them."

Eddie says he saw two youths each wearing the color of a rival gang walking down a street recently. In certain California communities that would be unthinkable. "They’re wannabe gangsters," says Eddie.

The Esquivels remain vigilant about who they associate with, avoiding anyone they suspect of using drugs.

They try to lead a quiet life in a trailer they own in Gold Hill, staying clear of any drug, including alcohol.

The couple dream of one day owning their own business, and possibly working with children who are in danger of falling prey to gangs.

Sholo, who is looking for a job, says she wants to one day own a home and says she can’t get enough of the home improvement shows on television.

In the meantime, the Esquivels have vowed to be careful.

"Right now in my life I have to pick and choose my friends," says Eddie. "I want, for once in my life, to have a true friend."

Reach reporter Damian Mann at 776-4476, or e-mail dmann@mailtribune.com