RADIO
ACTIVE
At 5:30 pm last Friday, commercial radio in
Portland turned on to something the rest of the country
has been listening to for years: rap.
"Jammin' 95.5" was born when struggling KXL-FM canned
the Stings and Celines of its adult-contemporary format
in favor of a playlist that will be "80 percent R&B
and 20 percent hip-hop," according to general manager
Tim McNamara.
"I've got my cargo pants on and my baseball hat turned
backwards," says the 47-year-old GM.
One need look no further than this week's Billboard 200
to understand McNamara's enthusiasm: Four of the five
top-selling albums--by TLC, Eminem, Lauryn Hill and Ginuwine--are
either R&B,
hip-hop or both.
"We're interested in opportunity and ratings," McNamara
says simply.
KXL's switch to a format dominated by popular black artists
would seem a no-brainer in cities like Los Angeles, New
York and Seattle, where McNamara says similarly formatted
stations have the highest ratings. But Portland has been
slow to embrace hip-hop's rise. "People get hung up on
the ethnic side rather than looking at the entertainment
side," he says.
While it tests the new format, KXL is operating commercial-free,
with occasional plugs from high-selling performers such
as Will Smith and Jay-Z. McNamara expects to sign DJs,
a new program director and advertisers in the next several
weeks.
Already a sense of excitement is swelling in the city.
One Northeast gym had the Paul Allen-owned station pumping
from its sound system earlier this week. And McNamara
said he was greeted by five people looking for work when
he showed up at the office on Monday--at 6 a.m.--Mac
Montandon
PEDAL
PUSHER
He calls himself the Jolly Dodger, but his pitch is quite
serious. Under the new medical-marijauna law, people with
a debilitating illness can qualify to use or grow pot without
being charged with a crime. But because of their conditions,
Jolly says, many are too ill to get supplies. That's where
his "cannabis courier service" comes in.
Bike messenger Jolly says he delivers doses of the wacky
weed straight to the doorsteps of 15 medical-marijuana
users he met through word of mouth. For this service,
he says, he charges a $10 delivery fee--the pot, he explains,
is free.
"I want to make it so cheap that I'll have every debilitated
person downtown calling me," he told WW. "I don't
want to make money off pot.... This is really just a religious
cause of ending suffering."
Because his supplies are limited, Jolly can now give
each client only two joints per delivery. He's hoping
to set up a non-profit organization to raise funds for
a "valid, full-scale production facility." That way he
and other bike messengers can deliver up to an ounce for
the same low fee.
In his press releases, Jolly calls his plan an "unassuming"
proposal. Unlawful might be more accurate. Deputy District
Attorney Mark McDonnell says the medical-marijuana law
doesn't allow any money to change hands--whether the fee
is to cover the pot or the delivery.
Even Geoff Sugerman, who headed the medical-marijuana
campaign, is a little nervous about the idea. "I don't
know if they're well-intentioned or if they're trying
to figure out a way to sell pot," he says, "but sales
are explicitly forbidden in the law." At the same time,
Sugerman says the cannabis courier proves that the federal
government needs to get involved in developing a regulated
distribution system.
Jolly, for his part, isn't worried. He notes that another
notorious bike courier managed to evade authorities for
a long time. "I know Ted Kaczynski didn't get caught for
a few years delivering packages on his bicycle," he says. --Maureen
O'Hagan
Car
262, WHERE ARE YOU?
The wages of sin may be death, but the pay over at Metro
isn't much better. Which must explain why Metro Councilor
David Bragdon has been moonlighting as a taxi driver for
Broadway Cab three nights a week. Apparently, Bragdon,
39, is feeling the pinch of relinquishing a full-time
job at the Port of Portland (salary: $64,000) for the
part-time Metro post (salary: $28,000).
Hacking seems an odd choice for an elected official,
especially the Harvard-educated Bragdon, who by his own
admission didn't even know how to check the oil before
he started cruising the streets in December. But the job
fulfills a lifetime ambition. "It's something I've always
wanted to do," says Bragdon, who drives Car 262. "Those
12 hours [on the road] go by faster than a three-hour
Metro meeting."
An ardent mass-transit advocate who doesn't even own
a car, Bragdon brings in about $120-$150 on a typical
12-hour shift. Most of his fares have no idea they are
being chauffeured by a public representative. "I don't
think most people wouldn't know their Metro councilor
if they ran over them," Bragdon says. One passenger, however,
asked if he was aware that there was a councilor with
the same name.
Twelve hours is a long shift, but the stop-and-go nature
of the job leaves Bragdon plenty of time to peruse potboilers
such as the Regional Framework Plan and the Metropolitan
Greenspaces Master Plan and to indulge in idle chatter
with his late-night clients, one of whom congratulated
him on his command of English. "I really like it," Bragdon
says. "There are witnesses at Metro who are far, far scarier
than most of my passengers."
--Chris Lydgate
THE
Y95 BUG
The City of Portland may have its millennium computer
problem under control, but it recently discovered another
possible software glitch that could raise questions about
four years of promotions in the Portland Police Bureau and
elsewhere. Call it the Y95 bug.
Police promotions are based on scores from a written
test and a lengthy oral exam. The written portion of the
test is supposed to account for 40 percent of an applicant's
final score, and the oral exam is supposed to account
for 60 percent. Since 1995, the weighting and scoring
have been calculated by a computer program that crunches
the numbers and spits out an eligibility list, from which
candidates are selected.
The process went along without question until a few months
ago, after the most recent sergeants exam. Several officers
were puzzled by their rankings on the list. One, for example,
scored far ahead all of the other applicants on the written
portion of the promotions test. But when the scores were
tabulated, he wound up near the bottom of the eligibility
list. The police union thought something didn't seem right,
so it enlisted Portland State University statistician
Brad Crain to find out what happened.
Crain discovered that the scores on the written portion
of the test were essentially left out of the process:
Instead of 40 percent, the computer program weighted them
at 12 percent of the final score, making the oral exam
account for a whopping 88 percent.
"The Portland Police Association is concerned with the
integrity of the process and is carefully examining this,"
says Will Aitchison, the union's attorney.
If Crain is right, the city has even more cause for concern.
It has used the same program for many of its other promotional
decisions. At this point, city officials are not convinced
there is a problem, but they won't discuss the details,
citing potential litigation concerns. A squad of statisticians
is currently trying to figure out if there is, in fact,
a problem.
--Maureen O'Hagan
