The Nature Poet

A postwar Austrian poet — whose name you might not recognize but who was in his time a fairly important figure on the Viennese scene, a fixture of the literary circle at Café Raimund — struggled most of his career to free his poetry from the shadow of his father, a Nazi officer. No one suspected the son of any Nazi sympathies; he even married a Jewish woman. The problem, rather, was that all of his poetry was interpreted by critics as a meditation on his father’s crimes. In truth, he had no interest in his father, really no interest in the past at all. He cared about nature: mountains, creeks, ferns. He called himself, at various points, a creekpoet or fernpoet. Yet every creek, every fern, was construed by his critics — from his very first major review in Die Zeit in 1968 — as a “reckoning” with the actions of his father, who had once shot 150 Hungarian Jews in one day with his own pistol. The critic noted the total absence in the poet’s poems of people, history, politics, fathers, et cetera, and saw their absence as a sign that they were actually the poet’s primary concerns, the unspeakable void at the center of his ferns. (The review was extremely positive.) 

Of course the poet deplored his father’s actions. But his “primary concerns” were mountains, creeks, and, especially, ferns.

Over the next decade he published two more acclaimed volumes of nature poetry. Both were interpreted as oblique meditations on his father’s crimes.

His fourth volume of nature poetry came out in 1985. It, too, was interpreted as an oblique meditation on his father’s crimes, but the reviews were less rapturous than before. The critic for the Süddeutsche Zeitung wondered if the poet had anything else to write about, anything besides his father’s wartime crimes, now more than forty years old. “The highly circumscribed nature of his interests,” wrote the critic, “became apparent with his second volume and glaring with his third. Now, with his fourth consecutive collection of poems to ponder how one generation’s crimes burden the next, it has finally become a liability.”

For the next thirty years the poet published nothing at all.

His friends began to suspect he was dead, presumably by his own hand. Everyone else forgot about him altogether.

But we now know that he never stopped writing.

In fact, he had embarked on his most ambitious project.

Since every description of a fern had been interpreted as an oblique meditation on his father’s crimes, he would write an epic poem about his father’s brutal crimes that was actually, obliquely, a description of a single fern. He knew the fern he wanted to describe. It grew on the fringes of a clearing in the woods near his home. A lovely fern. To describe it was easy. By now, that was nothing. But to describe it without mentioning the woods, the clearing, or the fern, to use only words that told how his father executed 150 Hungarian Jews, and yet to implant in his reader’s mind, by the time he finished reading the poem, an accurate and even quite detailed image of this one particular fern near his home: that was hard. He wanted his reader to close the book, this exhausting, appalling, tragic, merciless book, and have nothing in his head — no ideas, no horrors, no faces, no place names, no characters, no concepts, no morals — nothing but the precise image of a specific fern. He wanted the reader to think to himself: “I just read about the Holocaust. Why am I picturing this fern? What is the matter with me?” Such was the literary effect he was aiming for.

When he told his wife his idea, she left him.

The composition of the poem occupied the last thirty years of the poet’s life. In the first decade he contemplated his dead father, reading his journals and researching his savage Hungarian campaign, with special attention to the atrocities of June 1, 1941. The subsequent decade was devoted to careful contemplation of the fern: sketching the plant, scribbling notes, often simply sitting there staring at it. In the final decade of his life, the nature poet tried to describe the fern through a narrative poem about his father’s June 1st depravity.

This year he finally published The Kistelek Massacre. He died the night before its publication, uncertain whether he had succeeded in his aim. He would have treasured this morning’s brief review in Die Zeit, which simply calls The Kistelek Massacre “an elegant evocation of a fern.”

The Chimney Sweep

When, in 1919, Henry Hobson Fowler, the only son of a London chimney sweep, was named Wykeham Professor of Logic at Oxford University, his colleagues marveled openly at his improbable escape from the chimneys of his fathers into the rarefied air of logic and language. And for a time in his early career it really did seem that Fowler had torn himself root and branch out of his own past, from that long line of chimney sweeps into which he had been born, extirpating even all traces of his working-class accent.

But either he was still held in the grip of a tenacious ancestral worldview, or the condescending awe of his colleagues awakened in him certain latent ancestral loyalties, or perhaps he simply came to see some symbolic value in his ancestral vocation, for he began around 1922 or 1923 to speak of his approach to philosophy “as a kind of logico-linguistic chimney sweeping,” and over time construed this metaphor in an increasingly literal fashion.

For a while it remained purely figurative. “Our task,” he told students on the first day of his fall 1923 seminar, according to notes taken by one of them, “is to shimmy up the flue of logic and language and clear it out.” In fall 1924, he specified: “We clear out the philosophical flue with, in one hand, our brush and, in the other hand, our scraper.” Fall 1925: “With our brush we sweep away the loose soot, and with our scraper we chip away at the solid soot.” According to the seminar notes, a student asked whether Fowler was referring to “a real chimney or a logico-linguistic chimney,” and Fowler replied: “A logico-linguistic chimney. The philosophical flue.” In a lecture that spring term, Fowler warned: “It’s extremely easy to get trapped in the flue and to suffocate from the soot. As you’re climbing, you must never jam your knees against your chest, in this position.” He showed them. “You’ll suffocate, and we may very well have to dismantle the chimney to retrieve your body.” Again a student asked, according to the lecture notes, whether he was referring to “an actual chimney or some kind of philosophical chimney,” and Fowler replied: “A philosophical chimney.”

Starting in the fall term of 1928, Fowler distributed to his seminar students a brush and a scraper and asked them to raise, whenever they were arguing a philosophical point, either the brush, if they were dislodging loose logico-linguistic soot, or the scraper, if they were chipping away at solid logico-linguistic soot. He himself brought to seminar every week a long, adjustable, articulated rod with a brush head affixed to one end. With your brushes and scrapers and this flexible mechanical brush, Fowler exhorted them, we shall clear out the philosophical flue.

“Having done so,” said Fowler, in one student’s notes, “we mustn’t expect the flue to remain clear ever after. Soon, with use, it will fill up with ash and soot once again and we shall have to climb up it once more with our brushes and scrapers, our adjustable rods. Such is the nature of chimneys.” He fielded from a student the usual question — are you talking about regular chimneys or logico-linguistic chimneys? — but replied this time that he did not understand the distinction the student was trying to draw.

“A chimney,” said Fowler, “is a chimney. We clear out the soot.” He gestured up and down with the long rod. “We clear out the soot.”

In late autumn of 1930, a number of Fowler’s students complained to the head of the department that most of their seminars were now spent clearing out chimneys around Oxford, work that was dirty, dangerous, and not conspicuously philosophical in nature. Yesterday he had sent them up a very treacherous chimney whose flue had both vertical and horizontal sections and multiple right angles. Two students had almost suffocated to death. The only sign that a logic seminar had been taking place was that Fowler had occasionally referred to the flue as “the philosophical flue.”

He became, after this, quite a controversial figure. Half the university persisted in thinking him a genius, a refugee from poverty who had not only escaped his past but now wielded it as a metaphor to demolish our old beliefs about logic and language. They looked on with wonder as he crossed the quadrangle covered in soot, carrying his long adjustable rod with the brush head affixed to one end. The other half thought his escape attempt had, belatedly, failed. He was, in the end, still a chimney sweep. He was not so much wielding his past as being wielded by it, less seizing upon a metaphor than being seized upon by it, they said, and he would, in due course, cause a number of students to die of suffocation.

From our modern vantage point we understand both perspectives on Fowler. Both were right. He did sweep out some 19th-century nonsense from our understanding of logic and language, and he did cause the death by suffocation of numerous undergraduates and graduate students. Both were right; but these days, if Fowler is remembered at all, it’s as a chimney sweep, the last of a breed, not as the first of a new kind of logician. His own body was found wedged in his own particularly narrow flue in the winter of 1953. A bricklayer had to be summoned to gain access to the corpse.

The Worker’s Fist

In 1902 the rubber-goods mogul Moses Frenkel gave his son a large sum of money to produce the company catalog. Unbeknownst to his father, Isaac Frenkel was a nascent anarchist whose feelings toward his father — an arch-capitalist who was nevertheless a humane, compassionate man, beloved by his factory workers — were ambivalent in the extreme. Isaac embezzled the money and produced an anarchist broadsheet called The Worker’s Fist. Isaac’s ambivalent feelings, however, must have bled over into the text, for his father studied The Worker’s Fist carefully and then congratulated him on an “outstanding rubber-goods catalog” with a “pungent, poetic title. Bravo, bravo.”

The Inverted Pyramid

In January, the Stupendous Bosches, a family of acrobats celebrated for their “inverted pyramid” trick, collapsed while performing the inverted pyramid at a circus in Bremen. Six Bosches across three generations were killed.

Only the bottom Bosch, the tip of the inverted pyramid, survived.

This happened on the very same day, at the same hour, that Professor Pasternak, the distinguished mathematician whose family had long ago formulated the Pasternak Problem in combinatorics, leaped to his death from the top of St. Isaac’s Cathedral in St. Petersburg.

Professor Pasternak was survived by his son, a fellow mathematician.

There was, of course, no reason to suspect a link between these two tragedies. But when Bremen police spoke to the bottom Bosch, and Petersburg police spoke to Professor Pasternak’s son, they made an unlikely discovery: the bottom Bosch was a Pasternak, and the last Pasternak was a Bosch. Police in both cities were stumped, and neither Bosch nor Pasternak would say another word.

Berlin’s best detectives were sent to Bremen. How had a Russian mathematician infiltrated their nation’s most beloved upside-down acrobatic configuration? Moscow dispatched its best detectives to Petersburg. How had a German acrobat infiltrated their nation’s most esteemed mathematics department?

Eventually it emerged that Bosch, the youngest son of the Bosch acrobatic clan, and Pasternak, the youngest son of the Pasternak mathematical dynasty, had met by chance on a riverboat cruise of the Daugava River in Riga, where one (Bosch) had come to perform with his family circus act, and the other (Pasternak) had come to speak on his family’s problem at a combinatorics conference.

According to a Latvian computer programmer who was also on the cruise, the two men were initially amused by their physical resemblance, which was striking, Bosch’s beard notwithstanding. They started talking, comparing their respective responsibilities as the most recent offshoots of two legendary families.

The conversation grew heated. Evidently, each believed his burden was the more onerous.

In the inverted-pyramid formation Bosch had to physically support three generations of male Bosches on his shoulders. His father stood on his right shoulder, his brother on his left shoulder. On his father’s shoulders stood his paternal grandfather and his great-uncle, and on his brother’s shoulders stood his maternal grandfather and a first cousin twice removed. All this a hundred feet in the air, on a high wire. One wobble and his entire family fell to their doom, shouted Bosch. And they weren’t just standing there, they were juggling, a stream of machetes flying back and forth between the grandfathers, not to mention the great-uncle’s five flaming torches, et cetera!

Pasternak merely laughed, the Latvian programmer recalled.

So Bosch had six living Bosches standing once a night on his back, is that right? asked Pasternak. That’s nothing. He had twelve generations of Pasternaks, both living and dead, standing at all times on the surface of his brain, in a treacherous variant of the inverted pyramid you might call a vertical column formation. Twelve generations ago, in 1744, his ancestor presented the Pasternak Problem to the Imperial Russian Academy of Sciences. He spent the rest of his life thinking about the problem, but he failed to solve it. So did the next ten generations. So did Pasternak’s father. And now it fell to him. He had been given every resource, every advantage. His father had even cut short his own mathematical career to provide his son with a top-notch mathematical upbringing. All the best schools, the best teachers. Training in Germany, France, and America. He had nearly three hundred years of past Pasternak thinking to draw on. It was, as his father put it almost every morning, time to solve this thing.

That, said Pasternak, is what I call a burden. Twelve dead men standing in a column on my brain. I would kill to have six live family members juggling on my back! I would feel as light as a feather!

My God, said Bosch the acrobat, what I would give to feel nothing but the purely symbolic weight of your dead ancestors.

It’s heavy, said Pasternak.

I bet it’s not actually so heavy, said Bosch. What’s heavy is six physical jugglers.

The deal was struck then and there, the Latvian programmer told authorities. Pasternak would grow a beard and pretend to be Bosch; Bosch would shave his beard and pretend to be Pasternak. The first to capitulate to the pressure of the other’s family had to buy a round of beer.

Bosch taught Pasternak — who luckily spoke fluent German from his studies — the rudiments of acrobatics, and Pasternak taught Bosch — who spoke fluent Russian from his travels — the rudiments of combinatorics. Then Pasternak went with the circus to Bremen, and Bosch went with Professor Pasternak back to Petersburg.

Disaster struck both families immediately. In Bremen, six Bosches climbed onto Pasternak’s back, his knee wobbled, and they all fell to their deaths. In St. Petersburg, Bosch bungled a simple mathematical operation, and Professor Pasternak realized that his son would never solve the Pasternak Problem. He went straight to St. Isaac’s and flung himself from its golden dome.

Presented with the evidence, Pasternak and Bosch confessed.

The Germans wanted Pasternak to pay, and the Russians wanted Bosch to suffer, but the best lawyers in both countries could not find a German or Russian law that they’d actually violated. Reluctantly, the police released them. They met up three days later in a Riga bar, where they split the cost of the round of beer. Freed from their acrobatic and mathematical obligations, each planned, exuberantly, to spend the rest of his life pursuing his actual passion: birding for Bosch and backgammon for Pasternak. But at that moment, Riga police burst in and hauled them off. It seems Latvia has an old, seldom-enforced law on its books forbidding the sale or barter of one’s dynastic duties. The penalty is death.

The Furniture Store Owner’s Son

In Vilnius, around the turn of the 20th century, an assimilated Jewish businessman who owned a thriving furniture store was stunned and profoundly disturbed to learn that his relationship with his son, which was tense in the usual ways but by no means unloving, had been converted — by the son — into a theory of history, society, eschatology, art, the novel, and politics. This was, of course, the period during which artistic and intellectual Jews all across Europe were busily converting the particulars of their relationships with their recently assimilated businessman fathers into art of supposedly universal significance and ideas of supposedly universal application. But the furniture-store owner was unfamiliar with these works. When he came across his son’s book, in which he and his sofas, beds, and hardwood chairs and his (always well-meaning) efforts to introduce his son to the furniture trade were made to represent more or less the whole cosmos, the march of human history, and the form of the bourgeois novel, he was devastated.

He summoned his son to the furniture store.

“Is this,” he asked, holding up the book, which he had hardly understood, “really what you think of me?”

Yet the son was already transposing the particulars of this conversation, their last of any substance, into a universal key.

Strassberg & Strassberg

The Strassberg brothers, though easily among the most talented of the Brill Building songwriters, were never able to reproduce the success of their late-1950s hits “Good Girl (I Need You Bad)” and “Lookin’ for a Woman,” both recorded by Big Jim Harrison and the High Flyers, in part, according to a recent biography of the brothers, because Harrison and other Brill Building singers grew concerned about the lyrical direction their love songs seemed to be taking. In 1958’s “Good Girl (I Need You Bad)” the Strassbergs wrote of a “girl in Kansas City, standing five foot three / I feel a million miles tall, when she’s standing next to me.” By 1959, in “Lookin’ for a Woman,” they were writing about a “San Francisco baby, ’bout five foot five / toolin’ round the city, she’s gonna teach me how to drive.” Despite the success of these songs, which reached number three and number eight on the charts, respectively, Harrison declined to record their 1960 song “Drown You in Kisses,” featuring the lyric “Love me a woman, almost six feet tall / big ol’ beard, she tossin’ me a ball / Yeah, gonna drown you in kisses, but don’t you fear / I’m gonna toss you a life raft, you and your beard.” That same year they approached an up-and-coming doo-wop group called the Sliders with a love song called “Bristly, Big, and Black,” which began: “Long Island baby, Hungarian-American Jew / Six feet tall, taciturn, big ol’ beard too / Tuck me in, baby, the way you did way back / Her beard ticklin’ my cheek, bristly, big, and black / Oh yeah / Her beard was bristly, big, and black.”

The song failed to make the charts.

After the fiasco of “Bristly, Big, and Black,” the Strassbergs went into seclusion, as the biography recounts. Their music publisher, Brill Building legend Al Kushner, tracked them down eventually to a dilapidated trailer in the woods of Maine. They lived knee-deep in sheet music: hundreds of love songs about this tall, resolute, very reserved, 60-year-old Hungarian-American “woman,” almost metaphysically lonely, sporadically emotive but for the most part inscrutable, with her big scratchy black beard. Kushner told them: “Boys, I know exactly where you’re coming from. I come from there, too. These are my kind of love songs, but they’re not the kind my singers wanna sing or America wants to hear. If you can write me one of those, though, if you can somehow harness this source of inspiration of yours and use it to produce a regular little love song, a song about romantic love, set to one of your snappy Strassberg melodies, I promise you I’ll make it a number one hit.”

The Strassberg brothers worked through the winter and spring, and in June of ’62 they marched into the Brill Building with the music and lyrics for “Come Home in Your Woman’s Dress, Baby” (“Been leavin’ the door unlocked for you, baby / Last night I dreamed you appeared / So beautiful, so short, such a woman / A woman’s face, no beard / Tell me you love me, baby / Wearin’ that dress I can’t hardly bear / Tuck me in like you used to / Wearin’ your dress like a woman would wear / Come home in your woman’s dress, baby / I’ve been missin’ you, missin’ your nearness / Come home in your woman’s dress, baby / Been missin’ your face, completely beardless”). Lee Richards & The Robots took it to number thirty-nine on the Billboard Hot 100, a comeback of sorts, but not the comeback they’d hoped for.

Al Kushner summoned the Strassberg brothers to his office. I can do a whole helluva lot, he said, but one thing I cannot do is take a song about your father’s beard and turn it into a top ten hit.

The song is about romantic love, insisted the older Strassberg. The romantic love a man feels for a regular woman, no beard.

No beard, said the younger Strassberg.

I have to let you boys go, said Kushner. I wish you the best.

The biography loses sight of the Strassberg brothers not long afterward. They’re heading out of Manhattan in a Volkswagen van, the younger driving, the older strumming a guitar in the passenger seat. Jim Harrison of the High Flyers saw them last. They waved to him at a stoplight up at 79th and Riverside, rolled down the window, sang him a couple of lines about an Austro-Hungarian immigrant with his Austro-Hungarian beard, his Jewish-American convictions and his Jewish-American fears, and then rolled up the window and turned onto the Henry Hudson Parkway, heading north. They were smiling, Harrison recalled some fifty years later. They seemed happy.

The Flemish Engraver’s Son

A seer whose prophecies had never failed foretold that the artistic fame of the great Flemish engraver Dierckx would one day be eclipsed by that of his infant son. Dierckx immediately built a small stone tower behind his home and locked up his son in it. The boy never learned to speak. He never learned to draw, never held an artistic tool, never encountered paint, clay, or wood. Twice a day he received through a slot in the wall a meal of bread and water, and as he ate his father watched from a peephole to ensure that nothing artistic was made of it. He had no medium with which to express himself; even his excretions were promptly removed. Nor, to the father, did he seem to possess an artistic sensibility at all. He ate, drank, urinated, shat. In winter he sat huddled in his rags. In summer he pressed his forehead to the cool stone floor. He moaned, he howled, he quaked. Often he dashed his head against the wall.

But none of this reassured the engraver. Just the opposite, in fact. He’d surpassed his own masters not by engraving better what they engraved well, but by engraving what they had not even thought to engrave. Likewise, the way in which his son surpassed him artistically, he would probably not even recognize as art.

Any of this might be the art! The moaning, the howling, the quaking. The art of rag huddling, the art of pressing against stone. How he ate, how he shat: was it art? The head-dashing: art? What aspect of his son’s evident insanity would one day be regarded as genius, while his own lucid engravings were left to rot? On the son’s 19th birthday, the elderly engraver rushed into the stone tower, appeared before his son for the first and last time, and stabbed him to death with his largest chisel. The son’s name is not recorded. Dierckx is still considered the high-water mark of late Renaissance Flemish engraving.

The seer’s failed prophecy was little noticed, but it became a source of fascination and skepticism for the seer’s son, an apprentice to his father. Whenever his father averred the perfect certainty of his prophecies, or regaled another dinner party with his impeccable predictions about the King’s Duck, the Bookbinder’s Goiter, or the French Merchant’s Fortune, the son would inquire, with an air of naive curiosity, “What about the Flemish Engraver’s Son?”

A Memorial on the River Havel

On the River Havel, near Wannsee, a talented young lawyer who was also a promising Expressionist poet fell through the ice and drowned. His inconsolable father and his very anguished friends both agreed that a statue ought to be erected on the banks of the Havel in his memory, but they could not agree on its design. Should the statue represent him in his capacity as a lawyer, as his father wished, or in his capacity as an Expressionist poet, as his friends wanted? In the end, they compromised. They commissioned and erected a statue of the young man — Heym — holding forth over the Havel; whether he was reciting a poem or presenting a legal argument was left to the spectator.

When, however, the friends convened at that tragic bend in the Havel on the second anniversary of Heym’s death they found that his father had installed, fifteen feet in front of the statue, in the middle of the river, a second statue, of a judge on his bench. This effectively closed off the possibility that the Heym statue was reciting a poem, and left no doubt that he was presenting a legal argument.

The friends, all of them Expressionist poets, were outraged. They rowed into the river and tried to topple the judge statue, then to vandalize it, but the thing was made of granite and virtually indestructible. Finally, they decided to pool their meager funds and commission three new statues: two figures seated six feet from the Heym statue, clearly poetry fans, listening raptly, and immediately behind them, back-to-back with them, an elderly lawyer addressing the statue of the judge. Now it appeared the Heym statue was reciting a poem to a small but avid audience, while nearby, in the shallows of the Havel, some lawyer was addressing a judge about an unrelated legal matter.

These granite statues were similarly unmovable and unbreakable. All the father could do now was install a statue of a poet between the first statue and the two seated poetry fans, so the poetry fans seemed to be listening to that poet, not to his son, as well as a statue of a stout woman and a dog between the new lawyer sculpture and the judge, so the lawyer seemed to be addressing not the judge but his stout wife and his loyal dog. On the pedestal of the judge’s statue he had an engraver chisel, “Order in the courtroom! Counselor Heym, please proceed” — thus implying that the son’s oral argument had been interrupted by the impromptu poetry reading and the sudden meeting-up of the elderly lawyer with his wife and dog.

After much deliberation, the friends commissioned a statue of a courtroom functionary looking at the judge while pointing at Heym with one hand and the elderly lawyer with the other hand, with an engraving on his pedestal reading: “Which Heym? They’re both named Heym.” But almost instantly Heym’s father installed a statue of a second functionary pointing at the elderly lawyer, with an engraving reading, “No, his name is Wurmbacher.” With that, the now-penniless Expressionist poets had to accept defeat. Heym’s father’s wealth was inexhaustible, they realized. And he was willing to spend all of it to determine his son’s legacy.

Everyone involved in this story died and was more or less forgotten. But in the 1970s a circle of conceptual artists in Berlin — of which David Bowie was for a time on the periphery — rediscovered this emotional, illogical assemblage of granite statuary. It became a site of pilgrimage. When, in 1992, the German government announced that it would be razed to make way for a bridge over the Havel that would ultimately connect Berlin and Hannover by high-speed rail, a number of artists protested. These ten senseless and unsightly statues were part of the legacy of German Modernism, they said. But the statues were torn down nevertheless, and today one can reach Hannover from Berlin in an hour and a half, a fact for which even the artists are grateful.

Unrest

One winter evening in 1905, on a street corner in Moscow, a radical who was carrying a bomb toward his tsarist father’s home happened to bump into an acquaintance, a painter who was carrying a Symbolist painting toward his realist father’s studio. On the far corner they spotted, purely by chance, a philosopher friend who was carrying an idealist manifesto toward his materialist father’s office. The radical planned to kill his father, the Symbolist to surpass his father, and the idealist to refute his father. But when the radical, kneeling in his father’s bathroom, armed his bomb, it went off prematurely and he killed himself instead. What happened to the other two is unknown.

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Technical and professional excellence are the driving forces behind the outstanding work Arup does every day in our company. Arup Journal celebrates a curated selection of our projects, showcasing where we’ve applied imagination, technology and rigor to create a better world.

In the latest issue, find out more about two major transport projects Arup has designed over decades: the Elizabeth Line will add 10% to central London’s rail capacity and Admiralty Station will become Hong Kong’s first four-track transport hub.

Read about the Lou Reed Listening Room, our one-of-a-kind installation in New York that was part of the first major exhibition of the influential music artist’s work, and how circular economy principles were used to carefully restore Glasgow’s Burrell Collection.

Learn more about how the Silicon Valley Clean Water Gravity Pipeline is helping protect the San Francisco Bay Area while being designed to withstand the risks of earthquakes and climate change.

Discover the design of HAUT, the tallest timber-hybrid dwelling in the Netherlands, and read about our work on a new approach to Singapore’s food production to contribute to its sustainable future.

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Sean Manaea of ​​the San Francisco Giants plays the Kansas City Royals in the second inning on Saturday, April 8, 2023 at Oracle Park in San Francisco, Calif. (Karl Mondon/Bay Area News Group)

SAN FRANCISCO — Left-handed pitcher Sean Manaea recalls starting for the Oakland A’s in the 2019 American League wild card game against the Tampa Bay Rays, looking around and seeing the Coliseum with a rabid crowd of 54,005 almost to the capacity limit was filled.

“That’s the crazy thing,” Manaea said. “It’s usually never crowded, but when it is, it’s one of the coolest places in sport.”

That’s what made the A’s announcement earlier this week that they had landed a Las Vegas land deal as a precursor to a possible move to that city so heartbreaking for Manaea, who spent six mostly successful years in Oakland before being sold to the US San Diego Padres last April.

The A’s could be out of town by the end of next season when their lease at the Coliseum expires.

“It’s very unfortunate,” said Manaea, who is now in his first full season with the San Francisco Giants. “The thought of them moving to Vegas makes me sad. I mean, I love Oakland.”

The Giants issued a brief statement Friday to NBC Bay Area regarding the A’s Las Vegas real estate deal, saying, “The A’s are such a big part of the baseball history of the Bay Area, the East Bay and the greater community. If that happens, it’s not just a loss for the fans of A, it’s a loss for all baseball fans.”

NEW: #SFGiants response to #Athletics’ proposed move to #LasVegas. “The A’s are such a big part of the baseball history of the Bay Area, the East Bay and the greater community. When this happens, it will be a loss not just for A’s fans but for all baseball fans.” @NBCSAthletics

— Raj Mathai (@rajmathai) April 22, 2023

The statement mirrored what Giants CEO Larry Baer told KNBR on Thursday afternoon.

Baer said his first job in baseball was with the A’s during Charlie Finley’s tenure as owner, and noted that some Giants employees also have ties to the franchise.

Play-by-play voice Jon Miller was the announcer for the A’s in 1974 when they won their third straight World Series, and Farhan Zaidi, president of baseball operations, served in the Oakland front office from 2005-2014.

“The whole thing with the (A’s) franchise, if it all comes together, it’s really, really sad,” Baer said. “Because the franchise itself is so strong and has long been such a big part of the East Bay community and the community at large.”

Of course, the A’s could already have a long-term home in the Bay Area if the Giants had allowed their Cross-Bay rival to move to San Jose over the past decade.

The A’s showed serious interest in moving to the South Bay, securing a site for a new ballpark, and passing an environmental impact report about 10 years ago. However, the move was opposed by then-MLB commissioner Bud Selig because the Giants did not want to give up their territorial rights to Santa Clara County.

In June 2013, San Jose sued MLB, challenging its longstanding antitrust exemption. But the lawsuit failed, as did an appeal.

“I feel like I’m kind of desensitized to all the news that comes out,” said New York Mets outfielder Mark Canha, a San Jose native who played for the A’s from 2015-2021.

“Probably just because I was with the A’s and lived in the Bay Area while I was with the A’s and they’ve been talking about it for years. So I think I have a unique perspective of being really inundated with this information.”

Canha said he never met John Fisher, the owner of A, but spent time with his family at a benefit bowling event.

“I feel for the fans,” Canha said. “Those fans, those lifeguards, those people that come out every day and are sitting in the right field or behind the dugout. I know some of these people personally and they’re always so good to themselves and so good to the players and they’re so devoted to the team. I feel with you.

“It’s hard to grapple with the fact that Oakland — I don’t know if it’s a fact yet — but the idea that Oakland might not have a sports team in a few years, it’s a tough pill to swallow.”

Manaea said he came to appreciate the run-down Coliseum, where the A’s have played since 1968.

“It’s not the prettiest ballpark. It’s not the cleanest or anything,” Manaea said. “But it has a lot of love, a lot of character and it’s a very homey place. I loved every aspect of it. The cramped quarters and not so nice facilities but for me that makes it cool and special.

“When you’re surrounded by cool people, you don’t really need much of anything else.”

The A’s made the playoffs three times from 2018-2020 when both Canha and Manaea were on the roster.

“It was fun to be part of these teams,” said Manaea. “A lot of lows, a lot of highs, but that was incredible. It kind of felt like a high school team, but at the big league level. Nobody ever expected us to do anything cool, the stuff we did, and I think that appeals to (Bob Melvin), David (Forst) and Billy (Beane). That’s a kind of culture that we’ve built. It was fantastic.”

“I just liked the atmosphere in the Colosseum,” Canha said, “even though there were only 5,000 people in the stands.”

The post San Francisco Giants problem assertion on Oakland A’s doable transfer appeared first on DAILY SAN FRANCISCO BAY NEWS.

Sean Manaea of ​​the San Francisco Giants plays the Kansas City Royals in the second inning on Saturday, April 8, 2023 at Oracle Park in San Francisco, Calif. (Karl Mondon/Bay Area News Group)

SAN FRANCISCO — Left-handed pitcher Sean Manaea recalls starting for the Oakland A’s in the 2019 American League wild card game against the Tampa Bay Rays, looking around and seeing the Coliseum with a rabid crowd of 54,005 almost to the capacity limit was filled.

“That’s the crazy thing,” Manaea said. “It’s usually never crowded, but when it is, it’s one of the coolest places in sport.”

That’s what made the A’s announcement earlier this week that they had landed a Las Vegas land deal as a precursor to a possible move to that city so heartbreaking for Manaea, who spent six mostly successful years in Oakland before being sold to the US San Diego Padres last April.

The A’s could be out of town by the end of next season when their lease at the Coliseum expires.

“It’s very unfortunate,” said Manaea, who is now in his first full season with the San Francisco Giants. “The thought of them moving to Vegas makes me sad. I mean, I love Oakland.”

The Giants issued a brief statement Friday to NBC Bay Area regarding the A’s Las Vegas real estate deal, saying, “The A’s are such a big part of the baseball history of the Bay Area, the East Bay and the greater community. If that happens, it’s not just a loss for the fans of A, it’s a loss for all baseball fans.”

NEW: #SFGiants response to #Athletics’ proposed move to #LasVegas. “The A’s are such a big part of the baseball history of the Bay Area, the East Bay and the greater community. When this happens, it will be a loss not just for A’s fans but for all baseball fans.” @NBCSAthletics

— Raj Mathai (@rajmathai) April 22, 2023

The statement mirrored what Giants CEO Larry Baer told KNBR on Thursday afternoon.

Baer said his first job in baseball was with the A’s during Charlie Finley’s tenure as owner, and noted that some Giants employees also have ties to the franchise.

Play-by-play voice Jon Miller was the announcer for the A’s in 1974 when they won their third straight World Series, and Farhan Zaidi, president of baseball operations, served in the Oakland front office from 2005-2014.

“The whole thing with the (A’s) franchise, if it all comes together, it’s really, really sad,” Baer said. “Because the franchise itself is so strong and has long been such a big part of the East Bay community and the community at large.”

Of course, the A’s could already have a long-term home in the Bay Area if the Giants had allowed their Cross-Bay rival to move to San Jose over the past decade.

The A’s showed serious interest in moving to the South Bay, securing a site for a new ballpark, and passing an environmental impact report about 10 years ago. However, the move was opposed by then-MLB commissioner Bud Selig because the Giants did not want to give up their territorial rights to Santa Clara County.

In June 2013, San Jose sued MLB, challenging its longstanding antitrust exemption. But the lawsuit failed, as did an appeal.

“I feel like I’m kind of desensitized to all the news that comes out,” said New York Mets outfielder Mark Canha, a San Jose native who played for the A’s from 2015-2021.

“Probably just because I was with the A’s and lived in the Bay Area while I was with the A’s and they’ve been talking about it for years. So I think I have a unique perspective of being really inundated with this information.”

Canha said he never met John Fisher, the owner of A, but spent time with his family at a benefit bowling event.

“I feel for the fans,” Canha said. “Those fans, those lifeguards, those people that come out every day and are sitting in the right field or behind the dugout. I know some of these people personally and they’re always so good to themselves and so good to the players and they’re so devoted to the team. I feel with you.

“It’s hard to grapple with the fact that Oakland — I don’t know if it’s a fact yet — but the idea that Oakland might not have a sports team in a few years, it’s a tough pill to swallow.”

Manaea said he came to appreciate the run-down Coliseum, where the A’s have played since 1968.

“It’s not the prettiest ballpark. It’s not the cleanest or anything,” Manaea said. “But it has a lot of love, a lot of character and it’s a very homey place. I loved every aspect of it. The cramped quarters and not so nice facilities but for me that makes it cool and special.

“When you’re surrounded by cool people, you don’t really need much of anything else.”

The A’s made the playoffs three times from 2018-2020 when both Canha and Manaea were on the roster.

“It was fun to be part of these teams,” said Manaea. “A lot of lows, a lot of highs, but that was incredible. It kind of felt like a high school team, but at the big league level. Nobody ever expected us to do anything cool, the stuff we did, and I think that appeals to (Bob Melvin), David (Forst) and Billy (Beane). That’s a kind of culture that we’ve built. It was fantastic.”

“I just liked the atmosphere in the Colosseum,” Canha said, “even though there were only 5,000 people in the stands.”

The post San Francisco Giants challenge assertion on Oakland A’s attainable transfer appeared first on DAILY SAN FRANCISCO BAY NEWS.

March 27 – Greensburg police are looking for help locating a plumber who allegedly took $13,900 from a townsman and failed to replace a sewer line.

Investigators said in a Facebook post that Unity’s Mark Loughran, 52, who runs ML Plumbing, has an arrest warrant out for home improvement fraud.

“Loughran is aware of his warrant and has not responded to our attempts to contact him,” police said.

The Westminster Avenue resident told police she hired Loughran in June to remove and replace a clay sewer line. The original estimate was about $9,900, and Loughran charged an additional $4,000, authorities said.

In December, sewage was backing up in the home’s basement, and another contractor confirmed clay pipes had not been replaced, according to court records. A bid for the other contractor’s job was $7,500.

A warrant for Loughran’s arrest was issued in February when the charges were brought.

According to online court records, Loughran has a criminal history dating back to the 1990s. A bank order

The letter was sent to him in mid-February after he appeared to fail to show up for a preliminary hearing in a separate home improvement fraud case in Hempfield, according to online court filings. Previously he was in prison for theft and

Home improvement fraud allegations.

ML Plumbing has an F rating from the Better Business Bureau. A warning on its website in September says consumers have filed complaints and the company hasn’t acted on them.

Anyone with information on Loughran’s whereabouts is asked to call the Greensburg Police Department at 724-834-3800.

Renatta Signorini is a contributor to the Tribune-Review. You can contact Renatta via email at rsignorini@triblive.com or via Twitter.

The post Greensburg police subject arrest warrant for Unity plumber appeared first on DAILY SAN FRANCISCO BAY NEWS.

Although a plethora of people wished me the merriest of Christmases, their wishes were in vain. We did not have a completely satisfactory Christmas because we did not have our usual complement of folks and friends.

The Justin Dooley family did not make it to the ranch this year for Christmas. What happened?

Maralyn, our youngest daughter, her husband Justin, and their boys Wyatt and Cole, were about to go to the airport and fly to the ranch from their home in the south when their plumbing blew up in some fashion and engulfed their whole house in many inches of water. As no plumber was available, they had to cancel their flight to the ranch.

Anyhow, we missed that part of our extended family but had otherwise adequate companionship and presents galore. With an otherwise bountiful life, we have it very good indeed. However, 3,100 airplane flights were canceled on Christmas day… and the telly showed long lines of would-be flyers stranded in airports all around the country… so maybe our no-shows were just a drop in the bucket .. and not all that unique .

***

Don’t spend two dollars to have your shirt dry-cleaned. Just give it to the Salvation Army. They will have it cleaned and put on a rack for sale and you can buy it for 75 cents.

***

As a sidebar, the DN is full of articles about folks not so fortunate as ourselves who have been provided food, drink, clothing and presents and being looked after by service clubs and the like. Years ago, B. Cornelius, one of our fellow columnists, was bereft of an apparent feckless father… but benefitted from an industrious mother who waited tables in the old Tremont Hotel and managed to have, for her brood, a Christmas package or two and some food on their table.

***

About this time of the year I reprint my father’s account of a Christmas back in New Jersey on the snowy Minch Farm years ago…and his industrious not-to-be-denied mother.

“1915 was a bad winter in New Jersey; Roads closed for a good part of the time with snow drifts and water pipes frozen most of the time. About two weeks before Christmas my father came down with “La Grippe” which, as usual, turned into pneumonia. A day or two later the first of us six children broke out with the measles.

Mother had been able to go to town just before father was taken sick, and had purchased our Christmas presents, that is, one apiece, also some brazil nuts and California navel oranges to fill the stockings that we hung up under the mantelpiece Christmas eve.

But until Christmas day itself, no one could get a tree for her. By then all of us were down either getting over or breaking out with the measles. The hired man who did the chores didn’t feel so good and didn’t want to get her a tree. Mother was keeping house with no outside help and with cooking and nursing us children sick her time was well taken up. However, she never gave up and if she could not have gotten a tree any other way, she would have taken a hammer and nails and built one.

As it was, she put on boots and heavy clothes and went out into the swirling snow. She walked to the house of an (African-American) family and finally, by offering him a dollar, persuaded him to get us a tree. He cut a small cedar about six feet high and dragged it back to the house. While we sat or lay around, we watched our mother saw off the base of the tree to make it square, and trimmed off the bottom limbs. She stood the tree up in a specially constructed box that after two weeks of holding up the Christmas tree, which was consigned to a loft over the wagon shed until the next Christmas. For imitation snow, she got rolls of cotton batting that was saved year after year along with the boxes of fragile Christmas ornaments.

Then, taking long strings of freshly popped and strung popcorn, she wound them around and around the tree. After carefully placing the ornaments, the last touch was the miniature candy animals that were made of yellow and red candy, each one tied to the end of a bough. Next morning, when we were allowed to get up, it was still snowing and the outdoors looked dark and dreamy. But inside, the tree in the light of the kerosene lamps looked beautiful, and the packages of games spread out at its feet, and the mantle with the full stockings completed the picture of another happy Christmas for us children.”

Dave Minch 1900-1964

***

Worth a repeat:

A guy has a talking parrot with strings on both ankles. A visitor asks, “What happens if I pull one string?” The owner says, “He will sing the Star Spangled Banner.

The visitor says, “ Really? What if I pull the other string? The owner says, “He will recite the Boy Scout Oath.” “Really? And if I pull both strings at once?”

The parrot squawks and says, “I will fall on my ass!”

The post Plumbing situation denies my daughter a go to to the ranch appeared first on DAILY SAN FRANCISCO BAY NEWS.

Although a plethora of people wished me the merriest of Christmases, their wishes were in vain. We did not have a completely satisfactory Christmas because we did not have our usual complement of folks and friends.

The Justin Dooley family did not make it to the ranch this year for Christmas. What happened?

Maralyn, our youngest daughter, her husband Justin, and their boys Wyatt and Cole, were about to go to the airport and fly to the ranch from their home in the south when their plumbing blew up in some fashion and engulfed their whole house in many inches of water. As no plumber was available, they had to cancel their flight to the ranch.

Anyhow, we missed that part of our extended family but had otherwise adequate companionship and presents galore. With an otherwise bountiful life, we have it very good indeed. However, 3,100 airplane flights were canceled on Christmas day… and the telly showed long lines of would-be flyers stranded in airports all around the country… so maybe our no-shows were just a drop in the bucket .. and not all that unique .

***

Don’t spend two dollars to have your shirt dry-cleaned. Just give it to the Salvation Army. They will have it cleaned and put on a rack for sale and you can buy it for 75 cents.

***

As a sidebar, the DN is full of articles about folks not so fortunate as ourselves who have been provided food, drink, clothing and presents and being looked after by service clubs and the like. Years ago, B. Cornelius, one of our fellow columnists, was bereft of an apparent feckless father… but benefitted from an industrious mother who waited tables in the old Tremont Hotel and managed to have, for her brood, a Christmas package or two and some food on their table.

***

About this time of the year I reprint my father’s account of a Christmas back in New Jersey on the snowy Minch Farm years ago…and his industrious not-to-be-denied mother.

“1915 was a bad winter in New Jersey; Roads closed for a good part of the time with snow drifts and water pipes frozen most of the time. About two weeks before Christmas my father came down with “La Grippe” which, as usual, turned into pneumonia. A day or two later the first of us six children broke out with the measles.

Mother had been able to go to town just before father was taken sick, and had purchased our Christmas presents, that is, one apiece, also some brazil nuts and California navel oranges to fill the stockings that we hung up under the mantelpiece Christmas eve.

But until Christmas day itself, no one could get a tree for her. By then all of us were down either getting over or breaking out with the measles. The hired man who did the chores didn’t feel so good and didn’t want to get her a tree. Mother was keeping house with no outside help and with cooking and nursing us children sick her time was well taken up. However, she never gave up and if she could not have gotten a tree any other way, she would have taken a hammer and nails and built one.

As it was, she put on boots and heavy clothes and went out into the swirling snow. She walked to the house of an (African-American) family and finally, by offering him a dollar, persuaded him to get us a tree. He cut a small cedar about six feet high and dragged it back to the house. While we sat or lay around, we watched our mother saw off the base of the tree to make it square, and trimmed off the bottom limbs. She stood the tree up in a specially constructed box that after two weeks of holding up the Christmas tree, which was consigned to a loft over the wagon shed until the next Christmas. For imitation snow, she got rolls of cotton batting that was saved year after year along with the boxes of fragile Christmas ornaments.

Then, taking long strings of freshly popped and strung popcorn, she wound them around and around the tree. After carefully placing the ornaments, the last touch was the miniature candy animals that were made of yellow and red candy, each one tied to the end of a bough. Next morning, when we were allowed to get up, it was still snowing and the outdoors looked dark and dreamy. But inside, the tree in the light of the kerosene lamps looked beautiful, and the packages of games spread out at its feet, and the mantle with the full stockings completed the picture of another happy Christmas for us children.”

Dave Minch 1900-1964

***

Worth a repeat:

A guy has a talking parrot with strings on both ankles. A visitor asks, “What happens if I pull one string?” The owner says, “He will sing the Star Spangled Banner.

The visitor says, “ Really? What if I pull the other string? The owner says, “He will recite the Boy Scout Oath.” “Really? And if I pull both strings at once?”

The parrot squawks and says, “I will fall on my ass!”

The post Plumbing concern denies my daughter a go to to the ranch appeared first on DAILY SAN FRANCISCO BAY NEWS.

Health officials in Alameda, Contra Costa, Marin, San Francisco, San Mateo, Santa Clara, Sonoma and the city of Berkeley announced a mask mandate on Monday afternoon that requires every resident to wear a face mask in public spaces regardless of vaccination status.

The health ordinance comes into effect on Tuesday at midnight.

The mandate aims to reduce the spread of COVID-19 amid a surge in cases and the delta variant.

RELATED: San Francisco Could Impose An Indoor Mask Mandate This Week Amid The 4th COVID-19 Surge

“We are seeing an increase in COVID-19 cases across the Bay Area and hospital admissions are on the rise again, especially among the unvaccinated. In Contra Costa County, we are alarmed at the rate at which COVID-19 patients are filling our community hospital beds. “Said Dr. Chris Farnitano, Contra Costa County Health Officer.

He said the number of patients hospitalized in the Contra Costa district had doubled in the past 10 days, increasing by more than 400% in July.

“While there may be slight differences between the ordinances issued today in each jurisdiction, they all have one thing in common. An easy step, wearing a mask indoors to give everyone another layer of protection, ”he said.

Each county stressed how the virus is increasingly spreading among the Bay Area’s unvaccinated population.

“In Sonoma County, our case rate for unvaccinated people is nearly six times higher than our vaccinated population,” said Dr. Sundari Mase, Sonoma County Health Officer. “This is not the same virus that we fought last year, just a few months ago. The Delta variant is 60% more transmissible than previous versions of the coronavirus, and (we have) an increase in the number of people vaccinated who are now testing will.” positive.”

VIDEO: Bay Area health officials address mask requirement, Delta variant, COVID-19 tests

Health officials from the seven counties that implement the mask mandate emphasized the effectiveness of masks, especially indoors.

“The virus doesn’t care what indoor area you are in, whether in a public building or at someone’s home. Anytime you go indoors with other people you don’t live with, there is a risk of contracting the virus that causes COVID-19, “said Santa Clara Assistant Health Officer Dr. George Faucet.

As cases rise, several Bay Area counties said they have also seen a surge in demand for COVID-19 testing.

“In Contra Costa County, we have seen increased demand for tests and have been working with our local laboratories and contracting additional laboratories to ensure we have the laboratory capacity for these tests as well as an exam.” Site capacity, “said Dr. Farnitano

The Bay Area isn’t the only area in California that requires a mask.

Los Angeles County reintroduced its mask requirement in July.

RELATED: These 5 Bay Area cities may be most at risk for new COVID-19 infections, data shows

Napa and Solano counties are now the only two counties in the Bay Area not included in the latest mandate for interior masks.

In a statement to ABC7, a Solano County spokesman said, “Solano County Public Health and the state are monitoring the spread of COVID-19 in our community. We will continue to follow the recommendations of the state. We will adjust our approach as necessary. “

Solano County said the “vast majority” of cases will carry over to parties, barbecues, picnics and other gatherings, mostly among the unvaccinated and residents between the ages of 20 and 40.

“The addition of restrictions on businesses does not match our data, as the virus spreads predominantly at home and in private social facilities rather than in businesses,” the district’s statement said.

The Bay Area health ordinance comes less than a week after California advised all residents to wear a mask indoors, including those who have been vaccinated.

The state’s recommendation last Tuesday followed similar guidelines from the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, recommending that even those vaccinated should wear masks in areas where the virus is spreading faster.

According to the California Department of Health, more than 90% of the California population lives in areas with “significant or high transmission” of the Delta variant.

Four counties in the Bay Area have “high” transmission rates. These include the counties of Alameda, Contra Costa, San Francisco, and Solano.

The five other counties in the Bay Area have what is considered to be “significant” broadcast.

CDC COVID-19 Transmission Categories to California County

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VACCINE TRACKER: How California is doing when you can get a coronavirus vaccine

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RELATED STORIES & VIDEOS:

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OAKLAND (KPIX 5) – A poll by CBS News found that most Californians consider crime a major state issue, including more than two in three who they consider very important.

Crime is often a hot political issue, but how people see it often depends on their individual life experience. And now there are numbers to prove it.

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CBS News commissioned a survey of 1,800+ Californians on major problems facing the state. Forest fires and the coronavirus topped the list with 77% and 72%, respectively.

“But crime is at the top, very close to the Californian hot topics at 68%,” said Anthony Salvanto, CBS News Elections and Surveys director.

Oakland is often in the news about crime problems, but even there there are differences in how people view the scale of the problem.

“I wouldn’t say crime is a bigger problem here than anywhere I’ve ever been,” said Aidan Thompson-McTaggart, a college student from Oakland. “That doesn’t bother me much.”

• MORE RESULTS: CBS News YouGov Poll – THE CALIFORNIA DREAM

Shawn Granberry is a lifetime resident of Oakland. “Crime is definitely an issue in Oakland,” Granberry told KPIX 5. “Anyone who says crime is not an issue in Oakland doesn’t live in Oakland.”

Granberry said Oakland has become a city of the haves and the dispossessed, and young blacks don’t feel they have a great economic future. At 72%, this feeling is strongly reflected in the survey results on crime prevention.

CONTINUE READING: A’s fall to White Sox, drop 4th straight

“The most important thing many Californians are saying is that more economic opportunities for people would help reduce crime,” said Salvanto. “Similarly, many Californians said that more mental health services could help.”

Mental health services scored 68% in response to crime prevention. Collin Vaughan agrees, saying it made a huge difference to him and likely saved his life.

“Because mental health treatment has changed my life,” said the 23-year-old. “Without the drugs, the therapists, everything … I would be dead now.”

About half of the survey said fewer guns would help, and the other half would like more money for the police. But the relationship between the police and the Oakland black community has not always been good.

“They don’t live here, they don’t go through church. They just drive their cars and show up when something happens, ”Granberry said. “You don’t know the community.”

The survey shows that 50% of those questioned feel “protected” by the police and 8% feel “threatened”. But 31% feel a mixture of both, like Tara Jones, who, as an African American, is not afraid of the police, but rather for the safety of her teenage son.

“When you live it, it changes the way you move, how you act, how you can actually enjoy the world,” said Jones. “Someone from a gated community probably enjoys the world very differently than my 6’8” and 18-year-old son. “

MORE NEWS: San Jose Reid-Hillview Airport will be closed due to lead levels following the vote by district regulators

Jones said there is no escaping the threat in her neighborhood. Crime seems to be a universal problem, but with individual implications.

The post 68% Of Californians Say Crime A Very Necessary Situation, CBS Information Ballot Finds – CBS San Francisco appeared first on DAILY SAN FRANCISCO BAY NEWS.

Health officials in five counties in the San Francisco Bay Area issued a new stay at home order on Friday as the number of Coronavirus cases Surges and hospitals fill. The changes will take effect for most of the area on Sunday at 10 p.m. and will last until January 4th.

The majority of counties have not yet reached Governor Gavin Newsom’s threshold announced on Thursday that requires such an order if 85% of ICU beds in regional hospitals are full, but officials said hospitals in the region would be overwhelmed in the coming weeks would be if Newsom’s order were to apply.

“We don’t think we can wait for the state’s new restrictions to take effect. This is an emergency, “said Chris Farnitano, Contra Costa health officer.

The order came the same day the state had another record daily number of 22,018 cases and hospital admissions topped 9,000 for the first time.

Restaurants have to close indoor and outdoor catering, bars and wineries have to close, as well as hairdressing and nail salons and playgrounds. Retail stores and shopping centers can operate with only 20% customer capacity. Gatherings of any size with people outside a household are prohibited.

Berkeley health officer Lisa Hernandez said people shouldn’t meet in person with someone they don’t live with, “even in a small group and even outdoors with precautions.”

More

“If you’ve got a social bubble, now it’s gone,” said Hernandez. “Don’t let this be the last vacation with your family.”

The new home stay order will severely cut the most profitable shopping season and threaten financial ruin for companies struggling after just 10 months of constant restrictions and slow sales due to the pandemic.

The new restrictions have been imposed in San Francisco, Santa Clara, Marin, Alameda, and Contra Costa counties. These counties, along with San Mateo County, were the first region in the country to order a lockdown on March 17, when the area of ​​7 million people had fewer than 280 cases and only three deaths. This time around, San Mateo County chose to wait for the threshold set by the governor, despite officials saying it would continue to share hospital beds with others in the area.

The Bay Area counties are so closely connected that it was much easier to implement a regional ordinance, officials said.

In Santa Clara County, the headquarters of Apple and Google, officials previously banned all high school, college and professional sports and placed a quarantine on people traveling to the area from areas more than 250 miles away, according to officials in cases Thanksgiving rose. Compliance officers were scattered across the county on Thanksgiving Day and continued to visit companies to make sure they were complying with capacity rules and other precautions.

Dr. Sara Cody, Santa Clara County’s health officer, said the number of intensive care beds filled with COVID-19 patients has tripled in the last month and continues to increase. 67 new COVID-19 patients were admitted to hospitals on Thursday – a record.

As of Friday, the county of 2 million had 14% of ICU bed capacity left, which is less than the minimum of 15% required under rules set by Newsom, Cody said.

Frontline workers ask for help amid COVID-1 …

02:15

San Francisco Health Officer Dr. Grant Colfax, estimates the city, which is also a county, has a week to stabilize the spread of the virus. If hospital stays continue at the same pace, the nine hospital systems are expected to run out of intensive care beds on Dec. 27, he said. “The problem will be that no one can help because of the nationwide shortage of hospital beds,” he said.

All counties, with the exception of Marin, are on the most restrictive purple tier in the state’s pandemic plan for the economy, which has already forced most non-essential indoor activities to stop and a daily curfew from 10 p.m. to 5 a.m.

Public health officials have warned that the number of Thanksgiving gatherings by Christmas could inundate hospitals.

Over the past month, the state has imposed restrictions on 52 of the state’s 58 counties, including notifying people not to leave the state and putting an overnight curfew on all but essential travel, e.g.

But it didn’t work because data shows people are ignoring the rules, admitted Dr. Mark Ghaly, the state’s chief public health officer, entered Thursday.

The post San Francisco Bay Space counties difficulty stay-at-home order: “That is an emergency” appeared first on DAILY SAN FRANCISCO BAY NEWS.