My Path to Public Service–

The Graduate Center for Public Policy & Administration

The Chair of the public policy and administration program at Long Beach State sent me an email last week. It seems I’m to receive the “Distinguished Alumni Award” for 2025. Well, that’s out of the blue. It’s been years, but he and I once worked together on the reaccreditation of Master of Public Administration (MPA) programs. But since then, I’ve had minimal contact either with him or Long Beach State. Living 90 plus miles away didn’t help. As such, I was pleasantly surprised, and very much appreciative, of the recognition. But even more so, just for the outreach itself.

Yet, I am somewhat puzzled. It has been my experience that these recognitions tend to go to more recent grads especially those that have maintained contact with the campus. Their names and faces are still recognizable. Their accumulated accomplishments have been posted way before their parchments have begun to fade. That certainly is not the case with me. To my knowledge, there is not a single member of either the faculty, the staff, or the administration, that was at the University when I was a student. Beyond memory, stored folios like mine have long since yellowed. One would have to dig deep to find such a collection. Other than the very diligent and sincere efforts of the College of Health and Human Services development officer, there really hasn’t been any real outreach for nearly 30 years. Regardless, I am grateful for the contact. It made this “Lone Ranger” reflective. I’m back to those days of yesteryear finding my “Public Service” roots.

The period- 1975-1977. Looking back, I actually enjoyed being in grad school. It had a lot to do with being a Graduate Assistant (GA). This is when and where I began to finally come of age, as a student, and, as an adult. It was a time when the wave of too many grads were chasing to few jobs. For the three years prior, with a B.A. in Poli-Sci in hand, I could be found traipsing about the Grand Canyon State selling personal care products for Colgate Palmolive. It was the adult thing to do you know, get a full-time job with benefits. Still, what the hell was I thinking? Ah, now there’s the real question. I wasn’t thinking beyond a roof over my head and food in the frig. It was a job wasn’t it? Still, it was a step in the right direction. It was a deliberate shift from my heretofor adolescent behavior.

Previously, and on two other networks, things were rather scattered. For my first two years, I actually had been a college athlete. An injury put an end to my short-lived career running track. So went my assemblance of discipline with it. Now what? I was off to Westwood to inadvertently join the strikes and disruptions on the UCLA campus. Living under the shadow of the Vietnam war, those days were filled with distractions like drumming with rock bands, doing some studio back-up singing, racing my “H” production sports car, hanging on the “Strip,” living on the Hermosa Beach Strand, and oh yes, paying the rent by working part-time at Sears Credit Central. Beyond occasional couch surfing, no further details will be provided but somewhere in there, I was also supposed to be a student. That required focus, living a whole lot closer to campus, and fewer ants in the pants. Truly, I could blame it on my very transient low-income familial blue-collar roots, a dysfunctional mother, a PTSD, alcoholic, malaria ridden, sometime violent, decorated WWII Marine Corp father, and of course, the tried and true first in the family to go to college excuse. I was clearly the product of depressed depression era parents worrying how to pay the rent. Yes, all true but no, I owned this. After nine apartments, seven cities, and six schools in two states, I took on the responsibility of adulthood by beating it out the door at 17. Even though I had been contributing to the family piggy bank, eating and paying rent was now solely on me. I could do it, prove my independence, and obtain the accoutrements of what I knew of a working class lifestyle. I actually pulled it off even before I was old enough to vote. (That was 21 back then). Even though Dad had to cosign, I paid for everything including the wheels in the carport. I was sort of financially self-sufficient. Unfortunately, and until my stint with Colgate, being able to just pay the bills provided no sense of real security. All through the undergrad years, the weekly cash-flow was always a challenge. Was it a Swanson TV dinner night or not? Then came graduation. Degree in hand, I gave all that up to push personal care products along those Arizona highways. It was just a stable, well paying, job with benefits. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Then came the epiphany. It hit me in the 100 plus degree heat while motoring across the desert. I’m an order taker. I’m just selling volume and case packs. Really? Toothpaste, shaving cream, and razor blades? That’s it? This is it?? Maybe a solid paycheck and benefits isn’t everything. What did I go to college for? Didn’t I study political science, economics, history, and literature? Yup, and I enjoyed it but apparently not enough. From high school on, I just wasn’t a good student. I always had other priorities including having a continuous part-time job from the eighth grade on. Since working those summers on my grandmother’s farm in Fort Morgan Colorado, I was no stranger to manual labor. I was deligent, a hard worker, just not in the classroom. I didn’t read the assignments, study, or even write my term papers until the night before. I told myself I was too busy working while picking up a few paid gigs on the side. Well, how long can that last? No, I needed to rectify all of this, put on my big boy pants. My transcripts didn’t lie. I got out of it what I put into it. After kicking myself more than once, I realized I needed a second chance, academically that is. Driving those dark desert highways, (I heard that somewhere), gave me way too much to time to think. I had to go back. I had to give up my well-paid full-time position as a regional sales rep of a Fortune 500 company to return to the rank of a poverty-stricken student.

At the time, I was platooning my life between Tucson and Huntington Beach, I could permanently move back to the OC, apply to UC Irvine for a second B.A., redeem my GPA, or take a chance and apply for an MPA at Long Beach State. I was accepted at both. Except this time, I had to put some effort into it, be pragmatic, be career focused. With the reality of being 26 and the old guy in the room, returning to the undergrad ranks just didn’t seem to fit. Yup. Grad school was the ticket. I just had to find something related to my education. Something about government that was still intellectually interesting but was also pragmatic in application. With the theory of “Poli-Sci” firmly encrypted in my brain, I needed a better understanding of the actual practice of governance. With that in mind, I had to get past the reality of the initial low pay associated with entry level governmental employment. Yet, this was the path. For those aspiring to navigate the floors of city hall, a master of public administration degree provided the compass. It was doable. After all, my GPA wasn’t that bad. Thus, it was onward and upward scaling the ramparts of the brand spanking new Graduate Center for Public Policy and Administration. At the time, and for those pursuing jobs in city management in Southern California, it was the place to go. Afterall, It was the brainchild of then President Stephen Horn and the Center’s first Dean, Mel Powell.

From the beginning, I was one lucky dude. I was appointed as a paid Graduate Assistant (GA) for the “Center.” At the time, I could be described as a pre-service outlier.  As was the case with most public administration graduate programs, the student body were part-time and in-service, i.e., already working in government. There was just a handful of us without prior government experience. Regardless, I was not a clueless student aide bored to tears while sitting at the front counter waiting for the phone to ring. No, I had responsibilities. Thanks to Dean Powell, I had real assignments, and they complimented my undergrad studies in political theory, the constitution and comparative government. Fortunately as an undergrad at UCLA, I had taken classes in local and state government from the iconic professor, John C. Bollens. (ASPA historians and Poli-Sci Bruins will know). He co-taught my California State Government course with retired Governor Edmund “Pat” Brown. I’m guessing that my reference to these experiences is what got me the GA position at Long Beach.

Although occupying the lowest rung on the departmental ladder, I got more than a glimpse of the form, structure, budget constraints, admission policies, and of course the politics associated with running an academic program. Between conducting research for the Director, serving as the assistant editor for the programs quarterly journal, and assisting with all that goes into putting on two annual conferences, I had a view of this world that the greater cadre of graduate students did not. Since President Horn himself held an MPA, he took a keen interest in the program. He would have regular lunches with the Dean. Occasionally, and it may have been at the last minute, the invite even included me.

This was my view of the “Center” in 1975. Ours was the new unorthodox upstart public administration program in Southern California. In addition to the core full-time faculty of six, the program boasted upwards of twenty practitioner adjuncts. All held senior, executive, or elective level positions in the most professionally run governmental agencies in the region. Through the two decades between the mid 1970’s and 1990’s, it was one of the largest and more respected PA programs in the country. The Center received more than its fair share of recognition from the national and L.A. chapter of the American Society for Public Administration (ASPA). The then Dean at USC made comments something to the effect–“If a student wants to go into city management, Long Beach State provided the pathway.” Years later the Dean of the School of Public Administration at the University of La Verne made similar comments.

From the Centers beginning, when it was free standing and not a part of any of the University’s colleges, there were only five core courses plus the required directed research requirement. Back then, the equivalent of the basic course in public administration was a prerequisite. The list of acceptable electives was much broader and could be taken from various programs around the university. By comparison, the major difference between then and now, were the comprehensive exams. We sat for two and half days taking three-hour comprehensive exams in each of the five core subject areas. It was the days of the Blue Book and PA’s version of the BAR. For each individual exam, two full-time faculty members served as readers. As they say, the pressure was on. The collective fifteen hours of “Comps” were exhausting and not even the end. Some 33 units later, 41 for me, students still had to write a capstone research paper. In reality, it was a thesis without an oral defense. Mine was somewhere around 60 pages not counting notes and references. I graduated by passing the “Comps” with distinction, making the Graduate Dean’s List of Scholars and Artists, and rectifying any doubts of my GPA. It’s amazing what happens when one actually tries.

For us pre-service types, we also had to participate in an obligatory internship in a local government agency. This was the time and age, especially for a program rich with CEO’s and city managers as adjuncts, that provided the best opportunity to land a spot in county or city government. Where else was a student going to have access to so many individuals that had the keys to the employee entrance? Even the internship coordinator, a volunteer retired city manager and an International City/County Management Association (ICMA) President Emeritus, made sure of our placement. He had all the contacts. People actually called him back. If I recall, of the eight interns in my cohort without direct governmental experience, all of us eventually became city managers. Almost unheard of today, I even started out with a six-month full-time paid internship. I just didn’t know where to spend that $600 monthly paycheck. This was a major pay cut from my time driving in the company owned 1972 Chevy Impala selling Rapid Shave. As it turned out, that internship turned into a full-time permanent administrative position. Even with three subsequent promotions over the next four years, I still did not make as much as I did as a traveling salesman.

Yet I stayed the course. I added Governor “Moonbeams” signature to my collection. I already had the “Gippers.” As they say, the rest is history. Over the next 39 years, I would go on to serve a combination of 60 public, private, and academic institutions. My only regret was not pursuing a Doctor of Public Administration (DPA) at USC when I had the chance and the time. The twists and turns of life, economic downturns, family responsibilities, and the expanding time demands of each promotion seemed to always make this decision problematic. There was always a rationalization. There will always be time. I just really enjoyed the classroom yet had no interest is being an academic. That would have meant pursing a Ph.D. It was way too late for all of that. Besides, I had become accustomed to eating. All in all, there were just too many bricks in the wall! (My God-I heard that somewhere too.) As it turned out:

“The majority of purchasers of my professional services were local governments. Universities, real estate developers, retailers, and non-profits made up the balance. Having worked in public, private, and university settings, I had accumulated the full array of skill sets and responsibilities appurtenant to multiple career ladders: city manager, director (executive and otherwise), managing principal, vice president, senior consultant, advisor; I had even been president of a municipal 504 (c) (4) economic development corporation for “America’s Finest City.” The populations of my local government agencies ranged in size from a few thousand too over a million. Whether in inner-city, suburban, or agriculturally based rural environments, I didn’t miss much of California’s political, socio-economic, and ethnic topography.“

It was just ten years after graduation that I found myself directly serving both a nine member board of directors and the nine members of the San Diego City Council. Who would have thunk it? Much, much, later, a good friend with a CV far more impressive than mine, would later define me as a policy wonk. Ironically, he meant it as a compliment. Yet to prove his point, I never really got the Center out of my system. In 1991, and at the recommendation of Dean Powell, the next President of Long Beach State, Curtis L. McCray, asked me to come back to the Center as a member of the MPA’s Community Board of Advisors. Still serving a student body of over 350 FTEs, the Board was a veritable mix of “Who’s Who” of Southern California public servants. Thirty-three in all, it included members of the board of supervisors from both LA and Orange counties. The mayors of LA, Anaheim, and Santa Ana. Representatives from Congress, the State Senate, State Assembly, and of course, a complete cadre of executive level managers from city, county, and regional governmental agencies. Where else would I have the opportunity to chit-chat with Tom Bradley? At the time, I had wandered back to the private sector serving as Vice President of the Larwin Company, the largest privately owned residential development company in the nation. Just the same, the next recession necessitated my return to the public side of the counter. I was back doing good and fighting evil.

Not counting my first time teaching an extension course at UC Riverside, I started my avocation as an adjunct instructor in the MPA program at the University of La Verne some 26 years after those days in grad school. That was in 2004. Later to be appointed to the adjunct faculties at Northwestern University and Cal-State Northridge, my time at the podium would complement and, for fourteen years, overlap that 39-year career in and around government. Ironically it produced a sense of permanence as my day job caused me to go up, down, and back up multiple corporate ladders. By 2014, I decided to vocationally call it a day. Although my vertical and horizontal nomadic tendencies are over, my time at the lectern continues to this day. I’ve just traded grad students for the lifelong learners at UC Riverside.

As was my good fortune so many years ago, it was my pleasure to pay it forward, to serve the next generation of public servants. I presented on average between three and four graduate courses per year. Some 54 classes and 1,000+ students later, it was just time to do a little reflection, appreciate those times, the lunches, and the meetings with Dean Powell, President Horn, and the likes of professors Pete Shaw and Steve Bloomberg. Over the years, each of them would still send me congratulatory letters for most of my promotions. The memory of those times is indelible. The return to grad school, and a whole lot of luck, had more than paid off. It pointed me in the right direction. Even after all this time, this recent contact with the Center rekindled those memories. The path was set. On one side, I eventually served the municipal bastions of Los Angeles, San Diego, Santa Ana and Pasadena. On the other, my time went to pouring the footings for such upstarts as Murrieta, Jurupa Valley, and Menifee. As it turned out, there were a whole lot more downtown exits in between.

The only question now: What does a guy that started the program 50 years ago say to all of those newly minted MPA recipients of today? I’m expected to be profound while not putting them to sleep. Note to self: None of that “Back in My Day” schtick. After all: I’m Younger Than That Now.

By the way, and on occasion, I’m still in contact with Mel. He has long since retired and is back home in Maryland. When he does speak of those early days of the Center he often laments what an opportunity it was. Paraphrasing his comments: “It was the right product, at the right time. We’ll never see the like of it again.”