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How a woman in a leopard-print mini-skirt brought down the Kansas attorney general.
What to do when your friends become rock 'n' roll stars? Go along for the ride.
But the Fishers' share sell-off is actually of limited use in predicting the company's possible ill fortunes because of the highly public, systematic manner in which it has been performed. During the past two years the company has made public a series of Fisher-family share repurchase agreements, and has followed up with a press release announcing the family's sale of shares.
"If [Gap Inc.] were about to shit the bed, this isn't how you'd get out," noted one Wall Street analyst who didn't wish to be identified because he cursed.The company, for its part, calls the sell-off "normal investor diversification."
So the question becomes not what the founding-family share bailout means for Gap Inc., but what the Fishers' increased liquidity means for San Francisco.
Will they use this money to underwrite more baseball drug abuse? Figure out some other way to hold down low-and middle-income families with preschool-age children, as they did when they helped defeat the 2006 preschool-for-all initiative? Or will they grow the empire of Fisher-backed charter schools until they finally bust the Fisher-despised California Teachers' Association?
Perhaps. Or they could experience a Scroogelike moment of atonement, and use their $408 million for truly worthy causes, such as undoing the damage they've already done.
The ethos of San Francisco's homegrown "progressive" movement is concerned less with traditional left-wing issues such as poverty, the environment, and racism more than with fighting against changes in the local physical environment. San Francisco's best days are behind it, this rearview-mirror-gazing sensibility says. So don't alter anything.
During the 1980s, these residents fought to stop the construction of skyscrapers. In the 1990s, they rose up to battle live-work lofts. Currently they're strategizing and propagandizing to prevent the construction of apartments in areas of the Mission, Potrero, and SOMA neighborhoods, citing a mysterious need for a midtown "industrial preservation zone."
In their efforts to freeze San Francisco in time, this group has a potential patron saint — an S.F. Mumia Abu-Jamal, if you will — in local real estate investor Luke Brugnara. This great man is currently facing charges of tax evasion and endangered-species poaching. If local progressives truly believe in the preserve-it-in-amber ethos they profess, they should join the incipient popular movement, launched this very moment right here, to prevent the IRS and government wildlife officials from throwing Brugnara in jail.
Brugnara was no idle S.F. progressive. He backed his heroic dreams for a fully-preserved city by risking more than $32 million. Brugnara put his personal prestige on the line, and, according to a new IRS indictment, he now risks going to prison for three years as punishment for the way he supported the cause.
In 2002, Brugnara laid out his vision of a San Francisco–themed casino in Las Vegas for SF Weekly's Jeremy Mulman: "You'd enter over the Golden Gate Bridge with water running under you," he enthused. "You'd have a cable car going up through a mock skyline, past Victorian homes and everything. I mean, it would be like one of those things you'd see in a snow globe, a condensed version of the entire city, with Coit Tower and the [Transamerica] Pyramid if we could get rights on the Pyramid. ... You could have a Chinatown full of slot machines. You could have the Castro District ..."
Like the current preserved San Francisco, where rents and property values continue upward because new buildings rarely get built, Brugnara's San Francisco in Las Vegas would have been exclusively for the rich and totally kitschy and annoying. It would have been, in other words, a monument to the San Francisco that progressives have so far built.
Tragically, Brugnara's erstwhile plans to turn his $32 million purchase of a decrepit Vegas Strip casino into a grandiose San Francisco–themed resort crapped out. The Nevada Gaming Commission determined he was not fit to hold a casino license, thanks to a past that included alleged threats of violence, medical-waste dumping, and other perceived slights. In 2002 he sold most of his Vegas lot, earning a profit of $8,458,399, according to an IRS indictment, which earlier this month charged him with failing to report income on his tax returns. If convicted, Brugnara could face three years in prison. That doesn't include recent charges he's facing for allegedly poaching endangered trout on a 200-acre property he bought near Gilroy with cash earned selling properties at the start of this century.
San Francisco progressives: Keep Luke Brugnara free.