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Employee Nam Vong moves a tray of cookies to the packaging machine at Uncle Jer's.

Jerry Johnson reminisces about the south Sacramento bakery that made 36 million cookies and raised $25 million for schools. Johnson says the state's "healthy snacks" law was killing his business, but now he has a deal to sell his 15,000-square-foot building to a catering company.

Uncle Jer's founder Jerry Johnson, 60, is preparing to close the business he began 20 years ago. He says he may do some public relations work for Hannibal's Catering, which is buying the building. Hannibal's owner, Philip Paw, says the south Sacramento plant will house his 78-employee company.

Sacramento's cookie king may be calling it quits.

Jerry "Uncle Jer" Johnson says he has a handshake deal to sell his south Sac factory and end a 20-year career of making quarter-pound chocolate chip, peanut butter, oatmeal and M&M-studded "monster" cookies.

Is he another victim of the economy? Nope. Was he just ready for retirement? Absolutely not, says the 60-year-old.

"We went broke because they changed the law," he says.

He's referring to "healthy snacks" legislation that went into effect last year.

Before that, Jerry and his wife, Ellen, had a "wonderful gig" selling cookies to schools. The schools then marked up the goodies and sold them to students and their families to raise money for extracurricular activities.

At its peak, Johnson's kitchen turned out about 2 million cookies a year and employed 25 people.

But the business crumbled after the nutrition law blocking such sales during school hours was enacted.

As he puts it, "We were a one-horse company." When the horse went away, "Uncle Jer's just went south."

Johnson says he thinks legislators had good intentions in trying to improve students' diets. But he suspects the bill didn't accomplish much.

"The reality is, (kids) just brought more junk food from home," he says. And schools ended up missing out on the revenues they got from selling Uncle Jer's wares.

How much did schools raise in those sales?

About $25 million, he figures. For arts and music programs. For clubs and other underfunded activities.

"I'm proud of that," says Johnson, who hopes to complete the sale of his 15,000-square-foot building next week to Hannibal's Catering, and then perhaps do some marketing work and public speaking for the new owners.

Hannibal's owner, Philip Paw, says the sale is "a go" and that the new facility will serve as a kitchen and administrative center for his 78-employee company.

Johnson says the close of Uncle Jer's doesn't leave him sad. "We had a lot of fun," he says. "And I think we made a difference."

Getting bullish

One of the area's most conservative investors is getting, well, just a tad more aggressive.

We're talking about Cyril Shah, who manages the tiny California Boxers Pension Fund, which provides retirement income for prizefighters.

As we reported recently, his $4.5 million portfolio dropped just 4.2 percent for the year's first nine months – a lot better than the 20 percent decline registered by the S&P 500.

October was tougher; his fund fell 7.95 percent, but that was still way better than S&P – thanks to investments Shah has concentrated in government and corporate bonds.

But now the fund manager thinks stock prices may be a bargain. He recently shifted 10 percent of his portfolio from income-producing investments like bonds and cash to stocks.

He's not abandoning his cautious ways. But, he notes, "I am taking advantage of lower prices for stocks."

Casino's 'playcation' pitch

You've heard the term "staycation."

How about "playcation?"

The folks at Thunder Valley Casino near Lincoln have just copyrighted that word and plan to use it in a big ad blitz set to start next month and run at least through the end of January.

"The idea is we want people to stay in the Sacramento region for their vacations … and play at Thunder Valley," says Doug Elmets, the casino's PR rep.

He says the "playcation" concept emerged from a brainstorming session a month ago involving himself, Valley staff and members of the casino's ad agency, Seraphein Beyn.

The wordplay works at one obvious level. And perhaps a subtle one as well, Elmets suggests.

Some Thunder Valley customers may view the campaign – which also promises enhanced cash gifts to visitors – as a commitment to "placate" them while the casino completes a 23-story hotel and parking garage.