Sheriff John Duffy v. Mike Aguirre

Thirty Years Ago COUSINS MICHAEL and Andrea, met you 22 September Mission Playhouse, please contact Mickey, PO Box 1093, San Diego 92112.

KEARNY HIGH is number 1 and we know it. We're the best! Eat your hearts out unfortunate people who don't go to Kearny.

CRAIG at Der Wienerschnitzel: I sure wish we could get together! You are really a babe. Answer back here. Love, Mess. -- CLASSIFIEDS, October 27, 1977

Twenty-Five Years Ago When the three crewmen aboard the albacore jig boat Teresa F heard that the selling price of their catch had dropped from $1425 a ton to about $1100 a ton, they weren't exactly in a position to protest. "We're 2000 miles from San Diego and 1500 miles north of Hawaii, and they tell you you ain't got $100,000 worth of fish, you only got $80,000," says 21-year-old Jack Webster, skipper of the Teresa F. "What the hell you gonna do? It's really demoralizing." Webster is relating this in the galley of his boat, which is tied at the Shelter Island commercial landing, across North Harbor Drive from Sambo's restaurant. The decision he made at sea was to stay out and keep fishing, and he could not know at the time (late August) that it was a decision that would land him here, selling all 75 tons of his albacore -- one fish at a time -- from the stern. He's been dockside with his crew two weeks, selling the frozen fish for one dollar a pound (the fish weigh between nine and twelve pounds apiece), and he's still got about 40 tons left. About 30 other albacore boats, sprinkled in ports spanning the West Coast, are likewise selling their catches directly to the public, something they haven't had to do in decades. -- CITY LIGHTS: "DOCKED FISHERMEN WANT OFF HOOK," Neal Matthews, October 28, 1982

Twenty Years Ago The long-standing animosity between Sheriff John Duffy and attorney Mike Aguirre was bound to taint Aguirre's current city council campaign. Though much of the Duffy/Aguirre political warfare hasn't yet worked its way into the newspapers, it's not for lack of effort on either man's part. Several sources say Duffy has made available to Union and Tribune politics reporters information and public records showing that tax liens have been filed against Northern California properties supposedly owned by Aguirre.... At least two reporters checked out Duffy's leads, and Aguirre says a Union reporter confronted him on October 16 with details of the potentially embarrassing tax liens. But Aguirre told the reporter he's never owned any property in the San Francisco Bay Area, and he and another source familiar with the lien information say his Social Security number is different from that of the "Michael Aguirre" who owns the encumbered Bay Area properties. -- THE INSIDE STORY, Paul Krueger, October 29, 1987

Fifteen Years Ago On a quiet street in suburban Escondido, in a neighborhood dominated by warehouses and light industrial factories just off Auto Park Way, the inertia of an empty provincial evening is suddenly shattered by a burst of muffled semiautomatic gunfire. Everything in the nervous system of the casual passerby will tell him that this sound is not simulated; a sixth sense makes him know that real shells are being fired somewhere. It creates an instant unease, an acceleration of the heart's systole-diastole that comes only from an irrational intuition of danger. Except that in this case, no lone madman armed with a Kalashnikov is robbing the local McDonald's and knocking off the cowering customers as they desperately try to hide themselves under plastic tables and chairs (an image now burned into the collective American mind). This is the Shooters Emporium ("Your family shooting center"), and the people blasting away on the other side of that plain white wall are not psychopaths or criminals, but ordinary citizens exercising their Second Amendment right to carry a weapon and defend their lives and property. -- "KISS OF LEAD," Lawrence Osborne, October 29, 1992

Ten Years Ago Four months. Four months since I left the Kaiser Permanente Medical Center, a little surprised that they were letting me just leave with this newborn, half expecting some sort of institutional monitor to be sent home with us. ("I've got a child here! I've never done this before! Isn't anybody concerned about this?") The death of privacy and the growth of tension between culture and family (What if the village it takes to raise your child tells him his dad's a dope?) notwithstanding, my son was in large part still mine to raise. Here I was, stepping into the bright blue day, toting Finian in his car seat/throne, and feeling relatively autonomous. I found this both comforting and frightening. -- "MY DARLING DROOLBUCKET," Matthew Lickona, October 30, 1997

Five Years Ago I figured Bill knew what needed to be done before a deer could be brought to the butcher, but I wanted to check anyway. "It should be shot, bled, and gutted. That's done by slitting the throat and belly. The deer is hung upside-down by its back tendons to get all the blood out of the muscle. The other thing that should be done immediately is icing the deer down. You should put bags of ice inside the carcass. If the deer is shot at higher altitude, or if it's more into the winter season," you can forgo icing right away. "But during the early hunts, which start in late September, it's still pretty hot -- especially around here." -- BEST BUYS, Eve Kelly, October 24, 2002

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