Column: Li'l Abner and the Albany Waterfront

About 33 years ago, Mr. Dusty Helsabeck, ’s esteemed choral and drama director, cast me into the role of Senator Jack S. Phogbound in the school musical, Broadway's Li'l Abner. Probably not to be considered much more than a “bit part,” the role nonetheless served to paint the ominous, political backdrop for the plot’s dramatic tension. 

The setting of Li'l Abner, if you’re unfamiliar with Al Capp’s classic comic strip of the 1930s, is Dogpatch, a small boondock of a town, known for very little other than the annual Sadie Hawkins Day race where the town maidens, Daisy Mae in particular, sprinted in hot pursuit of a mate among a limited supply of bachelors.  

It’s Dogpatch’s wallflower status that makes it vulnerable to the charms of the southern Senator who pays a visit with intriguing news: The federal government, after extensive research, has just declared Dogpatch “the most unnecessary place in the country,” making it the perfect location for an atomic weapons site. 

At first, the announcement is received with much fanfare, as it’s the first time Dogpatch has been put on the map for anything. Before long, however, the townsfolk realize they are being hoodwinked, for the real beneficiaries behind the deal are gambling interests, and a business tycoon who sees dollar signs. The plot thickens and things get really zany.

I found the parallels between Li'l Abner and the recent Lawrence Berkeley Laboratory and Golden Gate Fields debacle, as uncanny as they were tempting to indulge. Indeed, such parallels might be considered offensive and rightfully unfair. My aim in writing this piece, however, is hopefully more constructive.

For me, the prospect of the U.S. Department of Energy (charged with managing the nation’s nuclear weapons stockpile) setting up shop in my beloved hometown made me think about the soul of small towns. What does it mean for a community to steward its soul when enticed by outside interests powerful enough to transform a waterfront, let alone a city’s culture, if only because of sheer size?

Again, while the reader may sense my relief (and perhaps my Christian, pacifist proclivities) that the labs , it is not my intent to pick a bone with the military-academic complex. And, as the reminded me, there were no explicitly-stated plans to include, within the 6 million square footprint, space for weapons research and development (although we’d likely never know for sure). 

On the other hand, large and secretive government research institutions possess their own unique culture, a mystique that can envelope small cities, particularly if a given town lacks a collective and robust sense of its own identity and mission.  

Soon after my short-lived stage debut, I had the privilege of serving for a term on Albany’s . As a young U.C. Berkeley student, I don’t recall having very much to contribute. I was privy, however, to an interesting plan to develop the waterfront around an attractive suite of restaurants and other retail establishments, in the vein of San Francisco’s Pier 39. The preservation of natural elements, and careful consideration of the overall environmental impact, was emphasized.

I can’t recall for sure if a hotel was involved, but I do remember appreciating the potential the plan had to enhance Albany’s attractiveness as a destination spot…a place to enjoy the bay, stroll, shop and dine. Such a plan, combined with the artistic, culinary, cultural and café richness of Solano Avenue, could go a long way to establish hospitality as the heart and soul of Albany, it seems to me.

Questions that push against a city’s sense of identity and mission (regardless of how formed or coherent) invariably get raised when the Phogbounds of the world come knocking. Under such pressure, it is our human nature to jump to the immediate, e.g. concerns about traffic congestion, our favorite species, or our child’s enrichment opportunities.

Not to diminish such concerns, but I wonder what might be possible if time and energy were given, collectively, to the question of soul. Although the case is closed on the Berkeley Labs question, and a Measure C vote is no longer imminent, it’s only a matter of time before another player arrives with grand designs for what can be.

Now may be an important moment to come together and ask, “What do we want Albany to be?”

Craig Wong is a former Albany resident, having lived the first 22 years of his life on Santa Fe Avenue near Marin Avenue. He and his wife, Tina, raise four children in San Francisco, where he serves as the executive director of a congregation-based, community nonprofit, Grace Urban Ministries (www.gum.org). He regularly finds respite among Solano Avenue Internet cafés when he comes across the bay to visit his Mom.