But Can He Walk On Water?

Times may be tight for Squid, pinching pennies here, substituting artificial crab meat for the real thing there, holding off on four new pair of shoes and the like. But apparently the Monterey Peninsula Water Management District is rolling in dough. Last week the Board of Directors decided to hire East Bay engineer Ernesto Avila to assume the role of district general manager, and in so doing made him one of the highest paid government officials in Monterey County. Avila will start at $132,000 a year, plus benefits--including a 30-day vacation--totaling another $37,600.

It isn't the late 1990s anymore, when Caribbean cruises and daily massages were part of the sign-on package, which makes Squid wonder: Is the gig that bad? Could it be that directing an agency almost universally maligned as ineffective and paralyzed by politics has become a job that no one wants unless gobs of public money are involved?

Perhaps. And who best to answer that question than now-lame-duck general manager of five years Darby Fuerst? Fuerst enjoyed his job so much that a year ago he asked to step down from his $108,000-a-year position as top dog. Come July 1, he'll take a pay cut and a self-inflicted demotion, hang up his Big Boss hat and the "Kick Me" sign that goes with it, and return to his old digs as the district's senior hydrologist.

But alas, Fuerst refuses to talk smack about his old job. "I would liken it to a university setting," he says, "and being the dean for a while before wanting to go back to being a professor, and doing more what I was trained to do."

How diplomatic. But given the pay raise, the perks and the month off, would Fuerst reconsider? Even if we threw in a pair of government-issued swim trunks?

His answer: Nope--not even if we paid him. "I made my decision a year ago," he says. "It's been 'that time' for a while."

Scents and Sensibility

Call Squid vulgar, but in accounts of both Great Bear Capers that enlivened Monterey County in the last two weeks, bear-tracking officials have mentioned the same intriguing and vile detail: the ursine stench (not to be confused with a urine stench). Two weeks ago, as the ill-fated Black Bear No. 1 rambled into Carmel on his hapless way to a rendezvous with Death, police followed his atrocious smell to the Pine Tree of Infamy. Last Friday morning, Black Bear No. 2's stink gave him away as he huddled inside the Hertz Equipment Rental building in Salinas amid stacks of sheetrock.

"I kept saying, 'I smell him in there! He's right here!'" recalls Fish and Game vet Dave Jessup, who followed his nose to the trespassing bruin. So what exactly does a bear smell like? "It's not as sharp or repulsive as skunk," Jessup explains, "but it's a very musky, deep animal smell."

Hmm. Kind of like some of the decisions issuing from the county building these days? Squid knows that smell. It's rank.

Now That's Recycling

Here's a creative way to reuse your newspaper after you've voraciously read it cover to cover: Squid notes with amusement that a pinata (which bore an uncanny resemblance to one of our editors and was recently demolished at a company party) was discovered to be lined with--what else--the Weekly. And you guys thought we were only good for lining the bird cage.

Wrap Squid in last week: squid@coastweekly.com>squid@coastweekly.com