Skip to comments.WHO IS PAUL PELOSI-NANCY'S HUSBAND? WHO IS NANCY PELOSI HERSELF?
Posted on 11/09/2002 10:04:31 PM PST by I_Love_My_Husband
Who is Paul Pelosi? I've been trying to research this family the only thing I get about PP is a vague/shadowy "businessman", or "wealthy businessman".
I keep googling this "Paul Pelosi" and I think he is a business lawyer who was born in San Francisco, but let's get the DIRT on this family NOW!!!!!!
Senator Pardek found out that her family has mafia ties. Let's have MORE research going on here!!!
DIRT, let's dig it UP FReeper Researchers!
Pelosi's 1996 stock purchases included Compurad Inc., Fritz Companies Inc., Fusion Medical Tech Inc., Hambrecht and Quist Group, Getty Communications, Odwalla Inc., and Vanguard Airlines Inc. Her spouse cashed in more than $50 million worth of common stock in Container Programs Inc., an equipment leasing company. Her husband owns a cable TV services operating company, a restaurant operating company, and much, much more. She reports joint holdings of at least $10.6 million.
You forgot, "eunuch."
Nothing juicy but hope it helps.
"The Party of the little people", yeah!
Andrea Pelosi has created a kind of homemade, guerrilla journalism, perfectly suited for the digital age. Pelosi, 31, recently released a video documentary that offers a revealing look at George W. Bush's campaign for the White House, titled "Journeys With George."
She calls it a combination home movie and Rorschach test. It's really an antidote to the usual television coverage of pre-packaged candidates and staged events.
All Pelosi had was a Sony mini-digital camcorder, a Mac computer and access to the candidate.
Like Theodore White, who changed the nature of print coverage of presidential campaigns with his behind-the-scenes book, "The Making of the President, 1960," Pelosi has changed the traditional notion of video reporting.
"I didn't set out to do a "Making of the President, 2000,'" Pelosi said this week in a telephone interview from San Francisco, where her documentary was shown at a film festival. "I was on a campaign and I wanted to show people what Bush was like. I think it shows him as a real person."
Bush, in fact, comes across as part aging frat boy, part regular, friendly guy.Pelosi films Bush eating Cheetos, munching bologna sandwiches, bowling, cracking jokes, schmoozing reporters and hustling from one campaign stop to another.
"Stop filming me, you're like a head cold," Bush jokingly tells Pelosi at one point. "I started out as a cowboy, I'm now a statesman," he says.
One time Pelosi jokes with Bush by asking him: "If you were a tree, what tree would you be?" He replies: "I'm not a tree, I'm a bush."Pelosi shoots Bush making faces at the camera, rolling oranges down an airplane aisle, drinking non-alcoholic beer and waltzing around wearing sunglasses and cowboy boots.Remember, this was 1999, a year before the general election. Pelosi, the daughter of House Democratic Whip Nancy Pelosi, D-Calif., was a producer at NBC News who eventually quit her day job to work on the film.The 77-minute documentary has been shown at film festivals around the country to rave reviews. HBO recently purchased the rights to broadcast it later this year.
Some White House sources have publicly complained that the film violates campaign coverage ground rules because Bush's "back-of-the-plane comments and antics" were off the record.
"I had a camera rolling in Bush's face for a year and a half," Pelosi said. "It's hard for them to say now that they didn't know it was going to be shown to the public."
Pelosi's film "is that rare breed of documentary that could forever alter public perception of its high-profile subject," Joe Leydon wrote in Variety.
Pelosi and Bush are "kindred spirits of sorts," wrote Anthony York on the Salon Web site. "You get the sense from the film that (irreverent) Pelosi is the person Bush would be if he were allowed to come a little unhinged publicly."
Reporters are also caught off-guard on film, as on one snowy day in Iowa when a crowd of shivering journalists wait for Bush. "The only reason we are out here is in case Bush comes out and slips on the ice and falls down," says one wag, adding, "we're vicious predators."
Audience reaction to the Bush they see in the documentary has been divided, said Pelosi, who now runs her own production company in New York City.
"Most of my friends don't like Bush," she said. "When they see the film, about half of them think he's goofy, but the other half really like him as a human being."
The film is the journalistic highlight of Pelosi's career.
"I worked as a television news producer for eight years, and this is the first act of journalism I ever committed," she said.
"Most of the stuff in the film is the kind of stuff that never made the nightly news. With this project, I got to sit in my living room every night and tell a story without 20 other people at NBC putting their hands on it.
Pelosi's biggest break may have been the controversial vote in Florida, which gave the election to Bush.
"He's president of the United States, so everybody wants to see this film," Pelosi said. "But even if he had lost, it would have been worth it for me. I wanted to show how the media works, how campaigns are run and how we elect our presidents."
As Burton had hoped, the base was marked for closure at the end of the Cold War in 1989, and the Sixth Army formally left in 1994. The closure unleashed the city's energy. The Sierra Club's Michael Alexander organized a walking tour for 35 people; ten times that many showed up. San Francisco, as it does, held meetings. The famous, devoted, and accomplished, like director Francis Ford Coppola, the late Transamerica CEO James Harvey, and architect Maya Lin, worked on a plan. Studies were conducted, models studied, butcher paper filled and distilled and emailed to graphic designers. The Presidio was assigned a grand new vision that, if somewhat cloudy in detail, still reached for the sky: "to become a global center for exchanging ideas on critical societal challenges and environmental sustainability."
Idealism bubbled in San Francisco, but in Washington, trouble boiled. Newt Gingrich's revolution swept the elections of 1994, trumpeting the virtues of austerity and limited government. John Duncan Jr. of Tennessee stood in the House holding a sign with a picture of the Presidio's pet cemetery: "Is this your idea of a national park?" it asked. Duncan made hay of the kookier ideas that surfaced for the park, like bungee jumping off the Golden Gate and an extraterrestrial communications center at Crissy Field.
Pelosi employed the Presidio as its own spokesperson. She brought key representatives, including Duncan, to the park to show off its biological and historical riches. The land is home to several threatened and endangered species, including the only wild Raven's manzanita in the world, and rare eco-niches: porous serpentine rock areas and the remnants of dunes that once covered the Peninsula, surrounded by resilient plant survivors of the violent sea winds. The Presidio's forest of eucalyptus and Monterey cypress curves back against the Golden Gate, the buena vista mailed on postcards to families back home in Des Moines and Shanghai and a backdrop for countless newscasts and car ads. Thousands of locals and tourists hike or bike the park's many trails, play on its fields, comb its beaches.
The legislators were impressed by the land and by its military history, dating back to 1776, when Spanish captain Juan Bautista de Anza first scouted the land and successor José Moraga ordered the first dwellings built in what is now San Francisco. On this foggy, windswept tongue of land, where the mouth of the magnificent bay meets the sea, the Spanish army built a fort, El Presidio, to subjugate the native peoples and intimidate Russian or English challengers to the prize. Mexico, liberated from Spain in 1821, held the Presidio until Captain John C. Frémont's Bear Flaggers seized it for the United States in 1846.
However impressed Pelosi's colleagues were, the real problem was money. With its battalion of buildings, the Presidio would cost the National Park Service more to maintain than any other national park. "There were definitely people in Congress who wanted to sell this puppy," said Elizabeth Goldstein, the former regional director of the National Trust for Historic Preservation who's now a city parks executive. "That didn't rise to the level of an idea," Pelosi said.
The buildings would have to provide the solution. More than 400 were designated as historic--meaning they must be renovated according to strict standards. Many were in bad shape, and none were up to code. Despite its gorgeous setting, the post was more sprawl than park, and rotting underneath. The repair cost was a cool half billion. But if by leasing some buildings, enough revenues could be generated to fix even more, headway could be made without huge federal subsidies. The trick was in the execution: The more buildings that were fixed for the least amount of money, the more could be leased, and the more that were leased, the more could be fixed-and onward in a kind of virtuous circle of restoration. Eventually, the real estate revenues could fund nearly all the park's operations.
Pelosi believed the National Park Service had neither the entre preneurial culture nor the expertise to pull off the task. It could do wonders with the shoreline areas, including Crissy Field and Baker Beach, but for the buildings a new agency was needed. She called the Trust "a very sophisticated financial tool, a creative and imaginative solution" that would save the park without burdening taxpayers. Even people now critical of the Trust supported the bill. Urban Habitat's Carl Anthony said, "The National Park Service didn't have the competence to pull it off. And the Bay Guardian and other critics of the Trust idea didn't have any real program for the situation in Congress."
President Bill Clinton appointed the board, and it began looking for an executive director. Each of its members had slogged through late-night city-planning meetings, where big ideas meet fear and loathing; they knew the dull, grinding cynicism that often haunts public development in San Francisco, the love of process in service of delay. The Presidio, with its deadline, couldn't wait. "For us to reach 2013, we need stuff up and running and generating revenue. We have five to seven years," said Trust board chair Rosenblatt. Meadows, fresh from the conversion of Denver's Lowry Air Force Base, was an "easy choice," according to former board member and urban planning expert Ed Blakely. Meadows was bright and tenacious. Board members would handle the politics; Meadows would charge ahead. The happy ending would have extraordinary energy and beauty: one part 21st-century eco-development, one part raw nature. In January 1998, Meadows thus succeeded two centuries of generals who had commanded the Presidio, and in many ways he embodied the uneasy tension that has always separated the bohemian city from the fort and its military culture. San Francisco has known, hated, and loved many flamboyant mayors, but with a few exceptions--like General Frederick Funston, who built tent cities for refugees of the 1906 earthquake and fire--most San Franciscans don't know the names of the Presidio's generals. Few know Meadows' name, either. Yet Meadows, like the generals, wields great power, and with an impunity the mayor can only dream about.
Paul Pelosi, Nancy's husband is the President of Financial Leasing Services, Inc.
Hmmmm, a real estate deal, leasing, her husband, and Bill Clinton.....
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