Jim Poulos led a successful campaign to have a barrier built on Highway 37 in Vallejo. His son, Frankie Poulos, was killed in a rollover accident on a stretch of Highway 37 in 1993. (Chris Nichols/News-Sentinel)

Tiburon man's crusade a model for Highway 12

Father of crash victim was key in Highway 37 barrier

Jim Poulos has a message for residents fed up with the carnage on Highway 12: Make yourselves heard loud and clear — it might be the only way to save a life.

The gray-haired Tiburon man knows too well about the subject. His youngest son, Frankie, was killed in 1993 in a rollover accident on Highway 37 near Vallejo. At the time, the road was an undivided two-lane stretch, very similar to Highway 12.

Frankie Poulos

It was even called "Blood Alley," just like Highway 12 is today. Fatal wrecks were common on its 10-mile San Pablo Bay section, which cuts across swaths of wetlands and connects Vallejo with the Marin peninsula.

Following Frankie's death, Poulos — a career salesman with a slight southern accent and a rapid-fire manner of speech — led a successful campaign to build a concrete barrier along that section. Poulos did it by rallying politicians, environmentalists, the media, the public, Caltrans bureaucrats and law enforcement officials — not by dividing them.

He stood for hours outside post offices and grocery stores collecting signatures — not for a piece of legislation, but just to prove that people cared about highway safety. And he didn't listen to detractors.

Plenty said he'd never see a barrier built. They said that Caltrans wouldn't take the project, and that environmentalists would sue to block any building plans along the bay. Following a public hearing on the highway, a senior Caltrans engineer even told him he was "wasting his time." The comment made Poulos livid.

"I told him, 'Sir, I've got nothing better to do with the rest of my life (but to lead this campaign),'" Poulos said, remembering the fixed gaze he gave the engineer. "Either get in line or get out of my way."

Before the barrier was built, an average of one person was killed along the 10-mile stretch nearly every other month, according to research Poulos and his attorney conducted. From 1990 to 1996, for example, 31 people were killed in head-on collisions on the highway, he said. Two were killed as the barrier was being built. But not a single head-on collision has taken place along the stretch since the barrier was completed, said Poulos.

"Zero," confirmed CHP Officer Willy Williford, whose Fairfield office patrols Highway 37.

In the meantime 66 lives have been claimed on Highway 12 from Lodi to Fairfield during the past eight years. Hundreds more have been injured.

(Marc Lutz/News-Sentinel)

Reflecting on his campaign, Poulos said there's no reason Highway 12 can't be fixed.

"There's all kinds of solutions," said Poulos, 63, seated in a restaurant in Vallejo. "(Caltrans) can engineer it — that's their job. That's why they have engineers, and they're good at what they do. But sometimes it takes some public pressure," he said, smacking his fist into the palm of his other hand. "There's got to be a public outcry."

A model for success

Jim Poulos' campaign took a little bit of luck and a lot of gumption.

"I had no idea how to do it," he said."It was a cause. (The lack of a barrier) was something that seemed totally unjust."

He contacted his state senator, at the time Mike Thompson. But like many others, Thompson had been convinced by Caltrans that a barrier wasn't feasible; that environmental groups would block any such plans.

Poulos was undeterred. He said the rejection spurred him on. He picked up the phone and called the head of the Bay Area's most powerful environmental coalition. The strategy paid off.

Moved by Poulos' story, Will Travis, director of the San Francisco Bay Conservation and Development Commission, latched onto the campaign. He helped organize meetings between the Bay Area's leading federal, state, regional and local environmental groups, along with citizens groups keeping a close watch on the bay.

The groups were concerned about numerous factors. They considered everything from access across the highway for the endangered salt marsh harvest mouse, to whether a larger-scale causeway might win approval. Such a road might affect tidal flows critical to the ecology of the bay, the groups argued.

In the end, compromises were struck. Tiny passageways were cut all along the base of the barrier, allowing the harvest mouse to cross through. And the causeway plans were shelved indefinitely. But the concrete barrier was built — with the credit going to Poulos, said Travis, who still heads the Bay Area coalition.

"(Jim Poulos) was a grassroots movement of one," he said."He was extremely powerful in knowing how to express his views and getting things done."

Since that time, cooperation between Caltrans and environmental groups has improved greatly, Travis said, allowing for projects to move forward in an environmentally sensitive manner.

More than just a model for residents along Highway 12, Poulos' work should be studied by communities across the nation, Travis said.

"I think Jim Poulos really demonstrates the power of democracy," he added.

Barrier a memorial to Frankie

Frankie Poulos was 18 years old when he lost his life on Highway 37. He and a buddy were headed to Lake Tahoe for a ski trip in early January, after Frankie's first semester at Santa Rosa Junior College. Their truck hit a patch of black ice near Skaggs Island Road, started spinning and crossed into oncoming traffic.

A car slammed into the front passenger side, where Frankie was sitting. The truck flipped over and landed upside-down in a slough. The driver, Frankie's friend Nick, was able to find a pocket of air near the pickup's floorboards. He rushed to help Frankie, but it was too late.

Frankie was likely unconscious when he drowned, his father was told by emergency responders.

In the months before Frankie's death, the often rebellious teenager had changed dramatically, Jim Poulos said. He showed a love for school, and a new closeness with his parents.

"It was like he had a whole new lease on life," Poulos said, driving his SUV not far from the stretch where Frankie was killed, past the yellow and green marshlands that flank Highway 37.

"The struggle was gone," he noted."Everything was going his way."

He thinks of his son frequently, but has moved on from campaigning for traffic safety. The barrier that divides Highway 37 is his memorial to Frankie. He said making a difference on Highway 12 will take persistence and a strong public outcry.

It will also take teamwork, he noted. Alienating Caltrans or other government groups won't work. Once the community settles on a solution, they need to"push, push, push," for it, he said.

Advocates for a fix on Highway 12 will hit similar walls he did, Poulos said. They can't be deterred when they're told there's no money, or that there's no way to engineer it. There's always a way, he said. It's just a matter of fighting for it.

"It's a worthwhile cause," Poulos said."It could well save a lot of lives, as well as a lot of damage to a lot of lives."

Poulos knows too well about that damage.

Contact reporter Chris Nichols at chrisn@lodinews.com.

First published Oct. 29, 2007