New director hopes to lead the Peninsula Humane Society out of the dog house New director hopes to lead the Peninsula Humane Society out of the dog house (April 03, 2002)

By Andrea Gemmet

Can Ken White rescue the Peninsula Humane Society?

Mr. White, 48, took the helm of the beleaguered organization in January, leaving his job as the president of the Arizona Humane Society to return to the Bay Area with his wife and daughter, small menagerie of pets and a seemingly unlimited supply of ideas and energy.

"I want PHS to be great again," says Mr. White from his office at the San Mateo animal shelter.

He remembers the Peninsula Humane Society the way it was in the late 1970s, when it was considered to be one of the premier organizations in its field. The prospect of becoming its executive director and helping it regain its former stature, he says, was too good to pass up.

Certainly, there have been some dark days at the Peninsula Humane Society.

The organization, which provides San Mateo County residents with a range of animal-control and pet-adoption services __ from wildlife rescue to spaying/neutering clinics, from educational programs to sheltering animals __ has struggled in recent years.

There was the former executive director who was accused of sexual discrimination and harassment. There was a high rate of turnover, and times when vacancies on the staff exceeded 30 percent.

New state legislation mandated costly changes, provoking a revolt among local governments in San Mateo County, particularly in Portola Valley and Woodside.

The aging facility, a ramshackle compound of buildings near Coyote Point in San Mateo, needs replacing. There was a lengthy stretch of time without an executive director, and when Mr. White was offered the position last year, there was a huge political and public outcry over the size of the $234,000 salary package offered. Although Mr. White's salary and benefits package was toned down, the scrutiny is still intense.

"Literally, the first day on the job, I had three newspaper reporters waiting for me, and I didn't even know where my office was," says Mr. White.

With less than three months since he arrived at PHS, Mr. White doesn't appear to be daunted by the enormity of the task at hand.

"I like challenges," Mr. White says. "It does seem that my karma is to step into a crisis and try to make sense out of it."

Among the first things he did was introduce programs to care for PHS's buildings. On Wednesdays, the one day of the week the shelter is closed to the public, all of the staff members who aren't directly involved in animal care, Mr. White included, roll up their sleeves and go to work on maintenance projects; cleaning, painting, spackling, whatever it takes, he says.

Although the animal shelter in Arizona he took over was roughly the same age as PHS, it had been lovingly managed and maintained over the years, Mr. White says. In contrast, PHS's facility showed signs of disregard and lack of pride, he says. In one room, the cobwebs were so thick that you couldn't even tell there was a window there, he says.

It's important to improve PHS, because even if someone donated 20 acres of land and $50 million today, if would still be several years before a new center could be built, says Mr. White.

When his wife came into PHS recently, he says, the first thing she told him was, "It doesn't smell anymore."

"It did when I first came here, and it doesn't today. It shouldn't, and it will not (again)," Mr. White declares.

It's true that on a recent visit, the dog kennels, cat cages and incubators for baby squirrels and birds at PHS are fragrance-free, although the bunny cages do smell like, well, bunnies. Curled-up cats watch visitors languidly from their perches, and dogs waiting for adoption press their noses through the fencing to greet anyone walking by.

In spite of all the problems, the good work at the shelter continued even during the troubled times, Mr. White points out. The Peninsula Humane Society's adoption numbers continued to grow __ virtually every healthy animal that comes into the shelter is able to find a home, he says.

Now, he says he wants to focus on sick and injured animals that can be rehabilitated through a foster care program that PHS is about to launch. Animals will be treated and then taken home with volunteers while they recuperate, "because everybody heals better at home."

His own dog, who was recently adopted after the White family dog died of cancer, arrived at PHS a snappish and fretful animal afraid of having its head touched. Thanks to the efforts of staff and volunteers, Archie, the dog that Mr. White hadn't even considered adopting, is now part of the family, he says.

"In the midst of all the crises, PHS continued to rescue animals, find them good homes and investigate instances of cruelty," Mr. White says. "While the politicians were screaming, the work went on and animals were helped. That's the story that hasn't been mentioned."
Towns abandon PHS?

Besides the hefty salary Mr. White was offered, a lot of the screaming that went on locally had to do with the annual bill for animal-control services. At the start of the last fiscal year, Woodside and Portola Valley town officials were on the verge of dropping out of the county's contract with PHS and finding another provider of animal-control services.

"The reason we threatened to withdraw from the contract is because the cost had gone up so markedly," says Susan George, Woodside's town manager.

Although the Peninsula Humane Society has little to do with the way San Mateo County officials divided up the cost of animal control service between itself and the county's 20 cities, the organization found itself beset on yet another front last year. New state laws increasing the length of time animals must be kept at the shelter before being euthanized or offered for adoption and that required all animals be altered before adoption greatly increased the Humane Society's operating costs, says Donna Spillane, the program services manager who acts as the shelter's liaison with the county.

Municipal governments protested the county's formula for dividing up costs __ 50 percent of a town's bill is based on its population, and 50 percent on the assessed valuation of its real estate. A new formula for figuring out a town's bill is based on the amount of services PHS provides. If approved, it could go into effect in the next fiscal year, which begins July 1.

The new formula represents a big benefit to towns with pricey real estate and few animal control problems. Ms. George says Woodside's annual costs would drop from $53,000 to $36,000. Portola Valley would see a similar savings, says Town Administrator Angela Howard. Atherton's bill would go from $82,000 to about $48,000, says City Manager Jim Robinson.

Of course, one town's savings means another town is seeing bigger bills. David Boesch, Menlo Park's city manager, said his city's bill would increase from about $185,000 to close to $215,000. Other cities, such as East Palo Alto and San Mateo would see far bigger increases, he says.

"There is some question about the reliability of the data used to assess each community's demand, but we're willing to go with the new formula," Mr. Boesch says. "Now, with Ken White at the helm, he can make sure that there is better tracking of the services that are used, and also be looking for ways to improve the service."

Mr. Boesch says he is impressed with Mr. White so far, and says he appears to be up to the task of leading PHS. Ms. Howard, who also met recently with Mr. White, gave a similar assessment.

"I hope he brings his professionalism to an organization that has really needed it," she said. "There was an awful lot of discussion about his salary, but if we give him a chance, I think he could do really good things for PHS and the rest of us."

She adds: "I've got to hand it to the man. A lesser person would have packed up his bags and said 'I don't need this.'" Overhauling PHS

Besides soothing irate city managers and overhauling the way PHS keeps records, Mr. White immediately set about overhauling the Peninsula Humane Society's organizational structure from top to bottom.

"It was not the best structure, and I think a lot of it was because there had not been an executive director for a long period of time, and there had been a lot of tumult during the time the last (director) was here," he says.

The job of restructuring the division of tasks and who reports to whom, as well as breaking down arbitrary barriers, is nearly finished now, he says.

"There are many talented people, but not all of them were being asked to do the right things," Mr. White says.

Shortly after he arrived, he resurrected the practice of having animal inspectors go to circuses, rodeos and zoos. At some point in the past, he says, PHS officials had decided to abandon the practice because the county contract was not paying them to do it. He found out about it from an angry citizen who called, he says.

"It's not that we are anxious to shut down Ringling Bros. or rodeos, but we are the organization that has the Cow Palace and San Mateo County Fairgrounds in our community, and as such, I think we're ethically obligated to have officers present" if an animal injures someone or is mistreated, he says.

One of his next goals is to increase the number of volunteers and donations to PHS, he says. The Arizona Humane Society is funded entirely by charitable donations and fees for its services, he says. When he first took the job, AHS had a $2.8 million annual budget, and by the time he left, it had grown to $8.3 million, he says. In May, he is flying back to Arizona for the grand opening of a new 20-acre facility, the result of the successful $14 million capital campaign. The Arizona Humane Society now has a nearly $8 million endowment, he says.

He thinks there's good potential for a similar level of philanthropy and volunteerism on the Peninsula, he says, but at the moment, PHS has nowhere near the support that the Arizona Humane Society has. Fees and donations represent about $2 million of the annual PHS budget, which is $6.6 million this year, and it has roughly 350 volunteers, compared with about 900 in Arizona, he says.

"I'm hopeful that we will not only see more people (volunteering), but that some of those people will be able to be very generous in terms of the kind of support they can lend to us," Mr. White says.

Although he is new to the job, Mr. White looks like he is settling into the Peninsula Humane Society. Archie's dog bed and chew toy occupy a corner of his office, and a terrarium that houses his Australian blue-tongued skink, rescued from a neglectful pet store in Arizona, lines one wall.

Mr. White says part of the reason he took the job was the lure of the Bay Area, a place he left nine years ago to go work for the U.S. Humane Society, and the only place that has ever felt like home to him.

"I'd like to end my career here, and end it in an organization that I've helped build to greatness," he says.