Media Training in San Benito County, California

Last year I was in the waiting room of a Denver veterinarian’s office when I got a call from work on my cell phone. A reporter from the Kansas City Star was urgently trying to reach me for a comment. It seems a couple of city aldermen from Riverside, Missouri, were volunteering to be publicly “tazed” by members of the local constabulary as a publicity stunt.

Their goal was to get 2000 community members to visit our blog and vote for Riverside’s entry in the recently inaugurated “All-America Stories” video contest. Ordinarily, I’m pretty good with words, but this was one of those rare times when I was literally speechless. “That’s crazy,” was the best I could offer. “Don’t quote me.”

It was then and only then that I began to appreciate the awesome, Oz-like power of video. Earlier that year, I had been assigned to work with the New Media Lab & Incubator project, a bold experiment to determine whether five nonprofit groups could be dragged kicking and screaming into the twenty first century.

Each nonprofit was assigned a couple of new media “producers.” In our case, it was documentary producer Mark Smolowitz and Huffington Post blogger Tanja Aitamurto. Together, they came up with the idea of starting a new blog to promote our annual All-America City Awards and of kicking it off with a contest in which communities would make their own videos and the public would vote for their favorites. Initially, I was skeptical. I was wrong.

Thankfully, the Riverside city attorney nixed the tazing idea, but even if the brave aldermen had been allowed to go forward, it wouldn’t have done any good. They were asking for two thousand votes. Try 5,000 votes, 10,000 votes, even 20,000 thousand votes. It still wouldn’t have been enough to win.

I think Acworth, Georgia, the winner, got something more like 25,000 votes. In all we got about 58,000 visits to and 126,000 page views of our blog in two weeks time, and it was all about the video contest. Blog traffic dropped like a rock as soon as the voting came to an end.

Recently, I’ve been working on an article for the National Civic Review on media access and training programs for youth, so I interviewed Kathy Bisbee, executive director of the Community Access Media Partnership in San Benito, California. She explained how CMAP had morphed from an ordinary public access cable channel into a technology and media resource for the community, especially for youth.

Ironically enough, given its proximity (60 miles) to the Silicon Valley, the county has remarkably low level of technology and media penetration. There some parts of San Benito County so inaccessible that broadband service isn’t available, not to mention the inconvenience of being too broke to afford a connection. The area has been hard hit by the Great Recession with some of the highest rates of unemployment and foreclosure in the country.

When CMAP started its youth training, it found that a majority of the kids in the program had never used a word processing program, much less owned a laptop. “When you haven’t learned Microsoft Word and you haven’t had access to a computer,” asks Bisbee, “how are you going to get those twenty first century jobs skills? The idea of working on a laptop at a coffee shop is just so foreign to them.”

But thanks to CMAP, and the San Francisco-based ZeroDivide, which is providing some of the funding, more and young people in the county are learning to use—not just laptops—but cameras, audio equipment, lighting and editing software to create and upload their own videos (like this one) telling stories about their communities. They even had their own video contest (or actually a video festival) to celebrate their cinematic efforts.

The funding, says Bisbee, has allowed CMAP, which is headquartered in Gilroy, the “Garlic Capital of the World,” to expand its technology and media training in places like Hollister, a depressed farm town where the only Starbucks is a counter at Safeway, and in the remote Panoche Valley, where kids literally attend a one-room school house.

It’s the power of video, and thanks to groups like CMAP and ZeroDivide, it’s coming to a community near you.

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Mike McGrath is senior editor and chief information officer for the National Civic League. A former newspaper reporter and magazine writer, he is editor of the quarterly National Civic Review, which will be beginning its centennial year of publishing this spring.

Mike’s posts will appear every Thursday on the State of the Re:Union website.

This was a piece written by SOTRU Radio Producer, Tina Antolini, about her time in the human-occupied tunnels running under Las Vegas. It’s an incredibly fascinating concept if you were to think of it as a diorama; tourists from all over the world in and out of the monstrous casinos and other celebrated spots that you associate with The Strip directly above people making their homes in the dark, wet, flash flood tunnels that run under the city. It feels more like something from a movie. The episode is fascinating and explores this underground world. You can listen here. Tina’s piece below, originally appeared on our website December 23rd, 2010.

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I’ve been thinking a lot about tunnels.

Entrances to an underground world, a place far away from sunlight, and, therefore, in our imaginations, they’re places that must incubate things that love the dark. Fearful things.

Culturally, we’re fascinated with the prospect of a subterranean world. Be it the hiding place of Jean Valjean, the hero of Victor Hugo’s “Les Miserables” (“…Paris has another Paris under herself; a Paris of sewers; which has its streets, its crossings, its squares, its blind alleys, its arteries, and its circulation, which is slime, minus the human form.”) or the home of monsters in “C.H.U.D.” (that would be for Cannibalistic Humanoid Underground Dweller), a cult film about flesh-eating underground creatures who prey on the homeless, or, on the opposite end of the cinematic spectrum, the grain-hoarding raincoat-wearing vegans of “Delicatessen.”

The truth is less glamorous and/or frightening… but equally fascinating. Among the stories SOTRU is reporting on in Las Vegas is one of the underground world beneath the casinos, the miles of flood channels that lace their way under the Strip. These are home to hundreds of people.

Many of whom have surprisingly home-like homes.

But most of these tunnel residents are forced down here because of a variety of misfortunes, economic and otherwise. Usually, one does not choose to live 30+ feet underground for the heck of it.

We’ll tell you a lot more about life in the tunnels in our upcoming Las Vegas episode… But in the meantime, I wanted to know: what’s your favorite tunnel story, real or imagined?

Our politics are incredibly toxic, and at times, conditions only seem to be worsening. But look around and it’s possible to see the emergence of a competing set of conditions–what I’ll call the New Civility. I say it’s “new” because the old civility is about people holding hands and singing “Kumbayah.” We’re in need of something more potent and realistic.

One signal of this “New Civility” is Republican Jon Huntsman’s recent announcement that he was running for president. Huntsman has gone to great lengths in setting a decidedly productive tone for his candidacy. He is upfront and clear about his differences with President Obama, while pointing out that he doesn’t question the president’s love of country or commitment. They simply disagree on a host of issues and governing philosophy.

Of course, many Washington pundits and news media outlets have questioned the seriousness of Huntsman’s approach, saying he is running only on style and not substance, and that he will be eaten alive by his tougher, and nastier Republican opponents. Or put another way, those who were better equipped to play by the rules of toxic politics.

But Huntsman is not alone in his approach. One can feel any number of political leaders seeking to move toward a New Civility, including at times House Speaker John Boehner and Secretary of Defense Robert Gates. Just yesterday Republican presidential candidate Mitt Romney joined in, calling for political leaders to “work across the aisle.” For me, the latter example is a sign of Romney reacting to the pull of the new civility and hedging his bets. But it is telling that he feels pressure to do so, and suggests there is a growing power around the idea that we need a different way of working together.

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But, change comes about when there is an emergence of a competing narrative, which grows out of nascent pockets of change that point to the possibility of a different path.

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Now, I can hear many of my friends getting antsy, even downright uncomfortable with me saying these things. But, wait a moment, please! It’s clear to me that our dominant political narrative right now is one of division and acrimony, self-dealing, and self-promotion. I get that. Yesterday’s conviction of former Illinois governor Rod Blagojevich is Exhibit A in politics run amuck. But, change comes about when there is an emergence of a competing narrative, which grows out of nascent pockets of change that point to the possibility of a different path. We are seeing the early signs of such pockets, and the early emergence of the new, competing narrative that reflects them. I’m not naïve, I know these signs aren’t the dominant story, but to deny their existence is to enable the growth of further cynicism and to forfeit the opportunity to change course.

The substance of the New Civility is not reflective of the civility movement of the past ten or fifteen years, in which proponents adopted the oft-repeated Rodney King refrain: “Why can’t we all just get along!” The new civility is not about being friends, or “liking” each other.

Rather, it is about building respectful relationships so things can get done. It is where tough issues are put on the table, and where philosophical differences are not washed away or diminished, but understood and worked with. The New Civility is one where our opponents are not evil, but where there is a real battle to win the debate. It is where tough choices must be made, and where real trade-offs exist. It is where “progress” and “hope” are earned only over time, based on the hard-won renewal of belief that we as individuals and collectively have the ability to get things done.

Seizing on this new civility will require us never to lose sight that we are engaged in a competition between the old and new – and that we must strategically target opportunities where existing, nascent pockets can be strengthened, and new ones created. We must place a spotlight on emerging victories, and not lose spirit when current conditions prevail. And we must remind ourselves that amid toxicity and destruction there is the opportunity to grab hold of real hope.

*Image from Etsy by Orange Moon Toys

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A dynamic public speaker, Rich Harwood is a frequent keynote for foundations and national organizations. He is an expert contributor on national and syndicated media outlets including MSNBC, NPR, The Christian Science Monitor, CNN’s Inside Politics, The NewsHour with Jim Lehrer, Special Report with Brit Hume, C-SPAN, and many others. He is also the author of Hope Unraveled: The people’s retreat and our way back (2005), Make Hope Real: How we can accelerate change for the public good (2008) and numerous studies, articles and essays chronicling vital issues of our time. His most recent written work, Why We’re Here: The Powerful Impact of Public Broadcasters When They Turn Outward, is being published and distributed in Spring 2011. You can follow him on twitter @RichHarwood and facebook.com/richharwood.

You can read Rich’s posts every Tuesday on State of the Re:Union’s website.

As a parent, streets are way up on my list of neuroses inducing kid hazards. Even in neighborhoods, I constantly see people roaring down the road as if they are in the heated throws of a drag race. And yes, I’ve become the old man shaking his fist and yelling, “Slow down!” It’s a good thing I don’t have a lawn. Ironically, in some communities, the very roads that were constructed to make a town accessible, turned out to make them more of a thoroughfare dominated by zooming vehicles passing through for convenience and not stopping. Even more detrimental in these cases, it has made it impractical and dangerous for residents to patronize businesses and areas directly on these roads.

I understand the logic of small town road turned highway. Re-route drivers to places they wouldn’t normally venture. But as the Daily Yonder piece, “When Main Street Is a Highway” points out, it can have the opposite effect. In my own realm, I don’t walk around my neighborhood nearly as much as I would like to with my daughter, which results in me kind of adding to the problem; getting in the car and going instead. This choice has numerous unfortunate outcomes. That may border on hyperbole, but think about it. If we had walked, one less car zipping down the road, less fuel being used, less pollution and a good chance that we will be stopping in at less businesses. Who wants to get in the car for mere minutes to have to find another parking space, get the kid out of the car seat, etc.?

The Daily Yonder piece highlights Willow Creek, California, where the town’s main strip was made into a highway where vehicles would come through at speeds as high as 80 mph. But instead of letting their community become something of a past relic, a trivial wonderment for drivers passing through, they slowed things down. And as the article, written by Laura Tillman, points out, it had wildly successful results:

“But in 2001 things started to change. Those five lanes were reduced to three, with bike lanes added to either side of the road. Two years later, continuous sidewalks were added to allow pedestrians to move between downtown shops. Sycamore trees were planted to show cars this was a neighborhood, not merely the intersection of Highways 299 and 96. Traffic slowed further, which legally allowed the speed limit to be lowered to 35 miles per hour. Pedestrian crosswalks were drawn.

A community downtown was created.”

The piece goes on the chronicle the journey that the community took in improving the road, the many effects that it’s had and the roadblocks that other communities may face in trying to do the same. It seems that not only did the changes made in Willow Creek make it more desirable for travelers to stop and enjoy the town’s offerings, but provided a geographic nucleus for their community.

We Want to Know:

• Do you live in or know of a community that is in the place where Willow Creek once was?
• Do you think trees, bike lanes and sidewalks are the best way to remedy this issue? What other suggestions do you have?

Start the discussion below, look both ways before you cross the street and ease up on the gas pedal . . . you may see something you haven’t noticed before.

I’m a coffee snob. It’s my only addiction. My co-workers have a Caffè Americano to thank each and every day for ushering me through my metamorphosis from curmudgeonly troll man to moderately friendly human being. The coffeehouse culture is also near and dear to my heart. I ran a coffeehouse a little more than ten years ago and made some extremely significant connections that I still enjoy. It was a tremendous place for building meaningful community. The employees knew the customers, the customers knew each other . . . it became a cultural hub where local musicians played and artists displayed their work. And while the technology over the last decade has changed the game and made wireless internet just about omnipresent, people did bring their laptops and work in. But I can’t recall it creating an environment of silent silos. Everyone regularly interacted. I miss that place.

That experience more than ten years ago, is pretty much the antithesis to my experience now. While I’m sure those community building coffeehouses still exist throughout the country, it seems the steady flow of traffic that I encounter on a daily basis is in one of two camps, the grab and go folks or the cordoned off lost in the laptop crowd. It’s really quiet with the only sounds coming from the cash register and espresso machine. Don’t get me wrong, quiet and peaceful is never a bad thing, but I think about how I see a lot of the same faces on both sides of the counter, but don’t know anybody’s name or see any of the regulars interacting.

As I stopped to pick up my morning life blood today, I started thinking about this concept and wondered if there were coffeehouses that decided they simply weren’t going to cater to either of the aforementioned camps. A simple Google search turned up Tazza Bakery Enoteca in Brooklyn, New York. Their website is a simple, one-page explanation of who they are that includes a downloadable menu, but more importantly, laying out what they offer, what you can expect. There is one section in particular that caught my attention:

“No cell phones. No wireless DSL. You come to Tazza to relax and relax you will. These are The Heights, after all… The heights of having your own little place: Tazza.”

18th Street Coffee House in Santa Monica, California, and Virgil’s House in Saratoga Springs, New York, are others that I’ve found that seem to have similar no laptop, no cell phone policies. Coffeehouses, can make an ideal work environment and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that, but I wonder how much more sequestered we can possibly become. Some may say it’s a time and place for everything type of thing, but it seems that the nose in a laptop is far more prevalent than a face-to-face conversation.

We Want to Know:

• Is there a coffeehouse in your life that you stop by regularly? Do you know the staff and the other regulars?
• What do you think about the places with no laptop or cell phone policies? Do you know of other places like that?

Start the conversation below!

*Top photo from Wikimedia Commons by Arria Belli
*Home page featured photo from Flickr Commons by Toshihiro Oimatsu

Last week I was in Kansas City doing social/new media work for the All-America City Awards, the 62-year-old civic recognition program of 117-year-old National Civic League. About 700 people from all over the country showed up in Kansas City for the annual confab.

A youth contingent from Dedham, Massachusetts, drove all the way from New England in the van, stopping off along the way to do community service. Dedham was not named one of the 2011 All-America Cities, but their youth delegation really exemplified the spirit of community and civic responsibility at the heart of the award.

It was a tough decision for the jury of civic experts that chose the ten winners. They were in deliberation for several hours, but eventually they narrowed down the 23 finalists to a list of ten. Not being on the jury or being privy to their deliberations, I have no influence over the selection, but over the course of the three-day event I tend to develop personal favorites. Dedham was one of them, and so was Fort Worth, Texas, which did end up on the list of ten winners.

Why Fort Worth? Frankly, I’ve always had a certain fascination for the place, so different and yet so close to Dallas, where I was raised. The Dallas of my youth was a glitzy shopping center of a town of leafy estates, gleaming high rises, exclusive country clubs and famous department stories like Neiman Marcus. Fort Worth was a rail yard town, a grittier, funkier, working class place. Dallas was the Cotton Mart. Forth Worth was Panther Hall and Cowtown Jamboree.

This duality was always a simplistic way of looking at things, and much has changed since those days. Fort Worth today is known for its high tech industries and excellent art museums. It is one of the fastest growing major cities in the country. To judge from its All-America City projects, it is also a city with a beating heart.

And this gets to the other reason I was secretly rooting for Fort Worth was that two of its three All-America City projects were focused on—how shall we put this?—“underserved communities.” For instance, the city has taken a “no wrong door” approach to mental health services, meaning that all the public, private and nonprofit service agencies work together to ensure that people who have mental health needs don’t fall in between the cracks.

Forth Worth has also adopted a similarly comprehensive approach to the homeless problem with “Directions Home,” a successful ten year plan to address the problem of chronic homelessness. The initiative was started by Fort Worth Mayor Mike Moncrief, a former state senator who is about to end his eight-year tenure as mayor.

Some mayors like to point to a new sports arena or business park as their legacy. Moncrief has Directions Home.  The scion of a famous Texas oil family, Moncrief remembers a visit to skid row Los Angeles and gazing out upon a “sea” of homeless people. It was one of the most emotional moments I’ve had in my 40 years of public service,” recalls the mayor, “seeing that sea of homelessness—of hopelessness.”

Forth Worth, by contrast had a homeless population of 4000. “We could get a rope around that,” said the mayor. Borrowing from the best ideas they encountered on a tour of homeless programs across the country, the task force learned three things, the mayor told me. “Just giving people a house without services doesn’t work,” says Mayor Moncrief. “Providing services without housing doesn’t work, either. Finally, the most important lesson of all, doing nothing doesn’t work.”

The emphasis of the program has been to provide housing with services wrapped around it—social services, law enforcement, health care and employment services. Project WISH, for example, a collaboration of nonprofits, local government, homeless shelters and employers, has trained and placed 650 people into viable jobs at above minimum wages.

Directions Home does seems to be working, as attested by the fact that the chronic homelessness in Fort Worth has been reduced by about 20 percent during the past couple of years, a period of sever economic hardship nationwide.

The ten All-America City Award winners are Kenai, Alaska; Dublin, California; Lakewood, Colorado; Belleville, Illinois; South Bend, Indiana; Scott City, Kansas; Tupelo, Mississippi; Fayetteville, North Carolina; Eden, North Carolina and Fort Worth, Texas

You can read about these community and their civic engagement efforts—and watch some video—on our blog.

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Mike McGrath is senior editor and chief information officer for the National Civic League. A former newspaper reporter and magazine writer, he is editor of the quarterly National Civic Review, which will be beginning its centennial year of publishing this spring.

Mike’s posts will appear every Thursday on the State of the Re:Union website.