An account of my indirect dealings with the governor of this state:

Years ago, my dad was a Democratic Party activist in California, closely associated with Jesse Unruh, the legendary Speaker of the Assembly during the Pat Brown and Ronald Reagan governorships. He ran campaigns back before there was big money to be had in that field, and in non-election years, he would support his family by doing odd jobs for the legislature (in particular, he helped draw the lines during the "one man/one vote" redistricting in 1964). During that time, he became very close to future lieutenant governor Mervyn Dymally, who appointed him to a government commission in the mid-70's and generally made sure that any patronage that was his to offer went my father's way.

Another benefactor was Ken Cory, who for years had the distinction of being the only elected Democrat from Orange County, and who served several terms as State Controller. Among the plums at his disposal was a position called "Inheritance Tax Referee". I still have no idea what that position did, but after the first Steve Smith passed the bar in 1977 (when he was the age I turned today, 40), his friend Ken Cory appointed him to a twelve-month term. For a struggling lawyer with a wife and four mouths to feed, it was a lucrative plum. My dad, being a paragon of virtue, actually took the position seriously, and spent a great deal of time administering the estates he was assigned; it later led to his appointment as a Chapter 7 bankruptcy trustee.

Anyways, Unruh wins reelection to a fourth term as State Treasurer in 1986, but by this time, years of wine, women and song are beginning to catch up with him. Gray Davis is elected State Controller that same year. Davis and Unruh had never been exactly close, since the future governor had made his bones in a futile run against him for State Treasurer, but he clearly knew that Unruh remained a powerful figure in the state, and that he needed to kiss up to him. My father, who had been one of Dymally's men in state government, loathed Davis, reflecting the general disdain Unruh's people had for Jerry Brown and his people.

Well, the story goes that on his deathbed, Unruh got Davis' agreement to continue reappointing my father to the aforementioned Referee position. Actually, the state controller had two options: he could simply rollover the term for another twelve months, or he could make a six-month appointment, which was a subtle way of telling the appointee that he should not depend on this source of income in the future.

Unruh dies in 1987. Sometime in 1993, I'm working for my dad when he receives his notification of reappointment. For a six month term. In fact, the "six" was typed over a white-out mark on the certificate, with the number "twelve" having clearly been expunged, right above Gray Davis' freshly-inked signature. No doubt, Davis, after having discovered that with Unruh dead, he no longer had to be nice to my old man, had not only decided to terminate my father's position, but had done so in a way that it would be noticed by him (he probably had flung an ashtray at his assistant when he realized what he had been doing the previous six years). My father always thought it was funny that someone could be such an a-hole, and he always had a good laugh about it. I, on the other hand, have never forgotten the incident.