Gimme an “A”

LBJ took the IRT

Down to 4th Street USA

When he got there

What did he see?

The youth of America on LSD

        -- Hair, 1967

The lecture was “Alphabet Soup.” We met on the mezzanine of the Oxford Hotel, a block from Union Station in downtown Denver. As Vista Volunteers, we were to serve as liaisons between people needing help and government agencies. The agencies and programs were usually identified by acronyms. By lecture’s end, I was up to my ears in letters.

VISTA itself is an acronym for Volunteers in Service to America. We were under the OEO (Office of Economic Opportunity) and I was eventually assigned to a CAA (Community Action Agency) in southern Colorado. My most valuable resource was the “Catalog of Domestic Assistance Programs” – a thick book listing all kinds of funding sources controlled by many different agencies.

Ten years later, I was still immersed in acronyms. I encountered more of them each year as I completed my training and began work in community recreation. I became familiar with the NRPA (National Recreation and Park Association), CPRS (California Parks and Recreation Association AND Colorado Parks and Recreation Association). And I learned about the BOR (Bureau of Outdoor Recreation) and the LWCF (Land and Water Conservation Fund).

The latter was a federal program that provided money for a host of recreation projects, including parks, playgrounds and amenities such as lighting, restrooms and parking. I inherited a LCWF project when I began my first job as a recreation director in Colorado.

It’s about 270 miles from Page, Arizona to Phoenix. I drove the first 135 and hitched a ride with a couple of other fellows from Flagstaff. When we arrived in Phoenix at mid-day, it was well over 100 degrees and the car we took from the airport to our meeting was like an oven. Seated in the back, I wondered whether the A/C (acronym for Air Conditioning) would kick in before I expired from the heat.

Two new acronyms came to my attention in Arizona. Like VISTA and some others, these were pronounced – even though they weren’t real words. One was NACOG, pronounced NAY-cog, which was the Northern Arizona Council of Governments; the other was AORCC, or AY-ork, the Arizona Outdoor Recreation Coordinating Commission.

AORCC controlled the allocation of LWCF money in Arizona. My experience in Colorado, coupled with some research and advice from contacts at NACOG, convinced me that my community was likely to be approved for just about any reasonable project.

Since Page was a new city, it had never received LWCF funds before. My read of AORCC history and tradition convinced me to go for broke with an aggressive and ambitious proposal for funding.

I had everything with me on that trip to Phoenix and, despite the heat, felt unusually calm and confident. I was about to request $250,000 for construction of a tennis and basketball complex, including a large, fully equipped playground, with lighting, fencing restrooms and parking. And I was about 95 percent sure I would gain approval.

That kind of money was pretty darned impressive in those days. It was more than I would earn in a decade at my then-current rate of pay. And it represented more than $25 in “free money” for every resident of Page.

Obviously, it’s a good thing I learned my alphabet.