First Person: One Man’s Road to Public Service Begins in Alameda
By Elliott Gorelick
Politics Editor
If a pharmacist is one of the most trusted professions and politician least trusted, then what does that make a pharmacist running for office? In Jeopardy! style, the question would be, “Who is Elliott Gorelick?” Of course, I’m not really a licensed pharmacist yet, but that is how the Alameda County Registrar of voters listed my profession on the ballot. (I’m not the only one who has been upgraded by the registrar. Kenneth Kahn, running for Mayor, is now an “independent entertainment consultant” rather than “clown”.)
Let me back up a bit and explain. In my small town of Alameda, surrounded on three sides by Oakland and one side by the Bay, we have a tiny community hospital supported by a special $298 property tax. The property tax was approved in 2002 and made the citizens of Alameda the owners of the Hospital. A five-member Board of Directors elected to staggered terms oversees the management of the facility. The problem is that the Hospital is only marginally viable from a financial point of view and is dangerously under-resourced from a health outcomes perspective.
Civic pride and provincialism led the town to vote to take over the Hospital eight years ago. The measure received the necessary 2/3 vote because of the fact that the Hospital has a rich history, founded in 1894. Also, a surprising number of Alamedans were born in the Hospital and still live on the Island. That’s right; Alameda is an island that, according to our civic leaders, could be totally cut off from the world in the event of a disaster (we are separated from Oakland by a 60-foot channel). Recommending to close any hospital, especially this one, is about as popular politically as Death Panels. The truth is that healthcare at the Hospital is below par and less efficient than three or four alternatives all within 15 minutes of the island.
Because the economist in me was offended by the paying-more-for-less aspect of Alameda Hospital and the would-be healthcare professional in me was appalled by the willful ignorance of the best practices for emergency treatment of strokes and ACS, I decided to run for the Alameda Healthcare District Board in the November 2 election. Of course, anyone who knows me, knows that running for office and I would have a tenuous relationship at best. The first problem was finding the time to file my paperwork with the Alameda County. Luckily, one of the incumbents decided to run for City Council instead of re-election to the Board so the filing period was extended by five days. I still waited until 3:00 p.m. on the last day to go to the Court House. The process was smooth and easy; since Board members receive no compensation, there was no filing fee. I chose not to spend the $1600 necessary to place a candidate’s statement in the official voter’s guide. The profession that would be listed on the ballot did cause some consternation on the part of the county staff when neither “intern pharmacist” or “student pharmacist” fit into the regulatory framework used to determine official titles. The concern was that the modifiers were titles which are not allowed. I left that day thinking that I would be listed as either “intern pharmacist” or “pharmacy intern”, but that changed sometime prior to the printing of the ballots.
The second problem was that my platform of closing the Hospital seemed unlikely to be popular with many. Even if the voters could be persuaded, the leadership of our community was not about to admit that one of their examples of their wonderfulness was a bust. (Three of the leading candidates for City Council all have served on the Hospital Board and tout this as an example of their stellar experience.) Nonetheless, I dutifully filled out each endorsement package and questionnaire explaining why I thought the Hospital needed to close.
Sometimes the ignorance or mendacity of my fellow candidates peeved me, but to my surprise, there was more support for my position than I imagined. The one candidate forum consisted of a contentious round of me making statements regarding the precarious financial position of the Hospital or the lack of up-to-date procedures for treatment followed by the other three candidates extolling the virtues of the Hospital and how, respectfully, they disagreed with me. The chief medical officer of the Hospital actually (in my opinion, fallaciously) suggested that people would die if I was elected and the Hospital closed. He had quite a conundrum at the end of the debate when I extended my hand, but ultimately decided to shake. Afterwards, one person commented that, if elected, Board meetings might be worth attending just to see the fireworks.
The third problem was that I was a reluctant candidate. My 90-year-old neighbor was baffled as to why my picture was on the front page of the local newspaper. She didn’t know that I was running much less why. After reading my statement, I got her vote because, “this town needs to get with the times.” One of my supporters (impressed with my debate performance) wanted to get some campaign material so she could hand it out, but I had none. My father-in-law only found out that I was running less than a week before the election because one of the other guys at our monthly poker game mentioned he voted for me. My wife (I think) is voting for me, but has been fairly outspoken as to what she thinks of the effort given the time commitment and the fact that I will be opposed in any attempts to change things by the four other Board members.
The race is a minor one far down a relatively long ballot so who knows what the ultimate result will be. In my favor is the healthcare related profession listed next to my name, the fact that there are three positions for four slots, (I may feel a slight sting of humiliation if I can’t win with those odds.) and that there may be more people who agree with me than I thought. After all, the owner of the local pizza place surprised me by telling me that she voted for me as she handed me my order for our street’s Halloween party. She told me that until she saw my name on the ballot she didn’t even know I was running. For me, it hadn’t occurred to me that anyone would notice.
This article appeared in the November 4, 2010 issue of Synapse.