Somewhere out there, a city council meeting is happening. And you're not watching it. But I am. Each week, I bring you the highlights, lowlights, and weirdlights from places you don't live.
It’s a new year, so we have a new installment of the “Best Thing, Worst Thing” project. Wow, another episode AND Betty White is still alive?! This year isn’t so bad after all! For an explanation of the project, check out the page here. If you like storytelling and municipal lore, consider this your birthday present.
If you’ve got the kids in bed and the bottle of gin opened, head over to the City Council Chronicles podcast and download the latest episode. Or you can play it below.
Episode 3: Rockville, Maryland
Photo source: City of Raymore
Rockville is 16 miles northwest of Washington, D.C. in Montgomery County, Maryland. The population is 64,000. It is the oldest community in this series–first settled around 1750. As the federal government expanded for each world war, the population of Rockville also grew because those workers wanted to live in a closeby suburb. The city is fairly ethnically diverse, with a large number of foreign-born residents. Rockville Town Square is a downtown commercial and retail hub–with an ice skating rink! In this episode, we hear from a political staffer, a scientist, an economic development specialist, and a college student.
For the last city council meeting of 2016, I couldn’t have picked a more beautiful council chamber: ornate chairs, delicate chandeliers, intricate woodwork. It looked more like the set of “Hamilton” than a municipal building.
But the room was also deeply, deeply confusing: the six council members were crowded into a single wooden desk–cafeteria style. The council president had her own luxurious dais in roughly the next ZIP code.
And then, there was the graphics department:
“Councilman Textbox Head has the floor.”
However, the phrase “lipstick on a pig” sprung to mind, as the beautiful room was consumed by a series of irate public commenters tearing each council member a new rectum and–occasionally–making sense.
“Regarding the Uber issue,” a woman in a baggy blazer slowly wound herself up. “What is an ‘Uber?’ Is it generic? Is it a brand name? Is it a transitive verb? Is it a modifying adverb? I’d like to know.”
I had absolutely zero read on whether she was kidding. My heart said she wasn’t, and my head said, “oh, god, this is gonna get worse.”
“I picked up some statistics. Our seven new electric motorcycles–” she continued.
“Okay, this is about Uber and Lyft,” cut in Council President Leesa Perazzo with some exasperation. “It’s NOT about electric vehicles.”
“Well,” the woman huffed, “these can be hooked up if it’s electric motorcycles. There are many acres of forestland being destroyed for motorcycle lanes!”
Uh, point…taken? I’m sure all of the Uber drivers with electric motorcycles are quaking in their helmets.
“Is it a house? Is it a mouse? Is it in a box? Is it with a fox?”
The next commenter was a tiny balding man in a sweater vest who spoke with a slight impediment and even slighter enthusiasm.
“I’d like to speak on what I call ‘my two cents’ on the smoking ordinance. When I found that this council had passed us a law, I went, ‘seriously? Did the council pass that without realizing some people are not gonna like it?'”
He was referring to a new ordinance banning people from smoking in cars when minors are present. Also, he was apparently new to the concept that city councils do things people don’t agree with.
He sagely added, “I don’t think anybody in the government has been using the brains or common sense…things.”
Well, this has been enlightening. And another anti-anti-smoking commenter stomped to the podium. “If you have custody of those children and you tend to be in a car that’s bought and paid for, that’s your personal property! You can do anything you want with your personal property!” he fumed.
Amen! That’s the same logic I use to run a dog-fighting ring in my basement and cook meth in my RV. Read the Constitution.
Basically my reaction
And if the comments from the public hadn’t soured the mood enough, Councilman Vincent Riggi stood up to seal the deal. “Just to clarify the vote on the smoking: YOU brought up that it’s our part to not abstain, Madam President. I don’t know WHY that left-handed shot had to come out. That’s certainly my prerogative to abstain,” he snapped.
“I thought we were beyond that, but I guess we’re not. And I thought YOU were beyond that, but apparently not.”
Pause.
“I won’t answer any of the other nonsense I heard tonight,” he slammed the microphone down.
Helen Rosenthal represents the Upper West Side on the New York City council and BOY, did she have some fun stories! From the candy in her desk to the Elmo and Batman characters at a council meeting, she gave us a peek inside the City [Council] That Never Sleeps!
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Q: With all the different groups on the 51-person city council, do they stick together in the council meetings? Like, do the progressives all wear armbands on one day, or does someone in the women’s caucus hand out candy, or–
A: Well, to be clear: I have the candy drawer. Definitely, I think candy gets you a long way with your colleagues.
Q: What kind of candy do you have in there?
A: Only York Peppermint Patties.
Q: Love those things! How do you decide where to sit?
A: Every two weeks approximately we get together as a chamber of the whole and we have assigned seating. And we have a little nameplate on our desks so we know just where we sit. And that way, again, no one really has access to my candy drawer, which is critical. The seating plan is determined by the speaker of the council. And it tends to be the same seating plan for the entire term of four years. Very rarely would someone’s seat get switched.
Q: Have you ever seen someone’s seat get moved?
A: I have. There were two of my colleagues who were having too good of a time sitting next to each other, so they were split up. So…that happened.
Q: WOW. Who do you sit next to?
A: I’m between Dr. Mathieu Eugene and Council Member Rosie Mendez. And if we went out to a bar and drank heavily for quite some time, I could tell you the reasons why I have that seat. But now, suffice to say, I love where I sit and–
Q: NO, IT DOESN’T SUFFICE TO SAY. TELL ME THE STORY, COUNCIL MEMBER.
A: That ain’t…that’s under lock and key!
New York City Council Member Helen Rosenthal
Q: Any interesting moments in the council meetings that you can think of?
A: There was one hearing where we were debating a law as it has to do with the costumed characters in Times Square. You have Elmo, you have Minnie Mouse, you have the Naked Cowboy. Indeed, the costumed characters showed up in their full costumed regalia.
Q: Nice!
A: I more found it amusing that someone would come to a city council hearing dressed up as Batman and the person who was the sponsor of the legislation would want their picture next to Batman. I’m very careful not to be standing next to Batman when a picture is taken.
Q: Batman is an American hero, ma’am. What do you have against heroes?
A: Nothing! I was really traumatized by Dukakis’s moment when he put on that helmet and was swallowed up in it. I try not to wear hats.
Q: I should mention that my researchers found a tweet of yours…it’s a picture of you wearing a Big Apple Circus hard hat, and behind you is a clown wearing face paint and very bright overalls.
What do you have to say for yourself?
A: Busted. Busted….I love the Big Apple Circus!
Follow Council Member Helen Rosenthal on Twitter: @HelenRosenthal
It’s the holiday season, so you know what that means: the eggnog is flowing, the mistletoe is hanging, and city council members are bragging about how THEIR winter festivities are the best thing since sliced gingerbread.
“I’d like to welcome everyone back from the Thanksgiving holiday. I hope it was a healthy one,” Councilmember Frederick Smalls warmly greeted the room. “I will say, however, that I did try a new recipe. It’s Brussels sprouts with Gruyère cheese.”
He added a lackluster, “Mmmm,” as he glanced sideways down the dais.
Councilmember Donna Crary picked up on the signal.
“I will disagree,” she pursed her lips, “with Mr. Smalls. That Brussels sprouts recipe was given to me at the same time. It’s not healthy.” Councilmember Smalls loudly guffawed as the sign language interpreter mimed laughter.
“Do you know what’s healthy? That weak-ass tea you’re serving.”
But enough about Thanksgiving. It’s almost Christmas! Your Honor, when will we all get to meet Santa?!
“On December the 10th at 9 a.m. sharp, Partnership Hall will be holding the Breakfast with Santa,” Mayor Craig Moe read from his notes in a non-festive monotone. “Any tickets left?”
“Sold out!” someone yelled from the audience.
Mayor Moe looked into the camera–right into my disappointed eye holes. “Cancel that. We’re sold out.”
Whatever. I’m not disappointed. I’m not crying. These tears are just me being allergic to PEOPLE WHO GET MY HOPES UP.
“The holiday decorating contest will take place as well,” the mayor tried to reassure me. “If you’d like to nominate somebody or yourself, you can dial 301-725-7800. Or you can let my office know. We encourage you to get your decorations up and submit your nominations.”
Hey, mayor: stay in your lane. Laurelites, if YOU have a nomination for best holiday decoration, send it to City Council Chronicles. I’LL be the arbiter of taste around here.
This is my nomination for deadliest stare.
That wraps up the yuletide news: it was time to do the People’s Business. “Ordinance number 1894,” announced Council President Michael Leszcz. “An ordinance amending the Laurel city code Chapter 17, ‘Traffic,’ Article III: ‘Stopping, standing, and parking.'”
He looked to either side. “Any discussion?” Nope. “Call the roll.”
As the clerk went down the list, something bizarre unfolded. Mayor Moe leaned back in his chair and caught the eye of Councilmember H. Edward Ricks at the far end of the dais.
NO. VOTE NO, mouthed the mayor.
All of the other council members were glancing at their papers, completely unaware of this not-so-secret communication.
“Mr. Ricks?” the clerk called out.
Ricks gave a pause. “Yes,” he slowly said, sounding beleaguered.
The mayor stared daggers at Ricks.
How is she going to translate this?
“Mayor Moe?” the clerk said.
He did not respond. Council Member Ricks stonily eyeballed the mayor. The pause was so pregnant, some of the other council members stopped shuffling their papers and glanced at Moe.
“Concur,” muttered the mayor at last.
“That concludes the normal agenda,” President Leszcz continued, blissfully clueless about what transpired.
At this point, His Honor broke into a grin and chuckled. I have no idea if this was a playful joke or if the mayor was genuinely pissed. He’s a more wily character than I gave him credit for.
All I know is this: Santa better watch his back in Laurel.
Vermont is the land of maple syrup and Bernie Sanders. But it’s also home to some spicy city council happenings. I talked to Burlington Councilor Selene Colburn, who has some interesting connections to famous Vermonters and is also a dancer/choreographer!
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Q: What’s the turnout like at city council meetings?
A: We have pretty packed meetings from time to time. Right now, we’re debating whether to change our zoning to allow a 14-story mall. Which doesn’t sound very tall, but it would be the tallest building in the state of Vermont.
Q: Fourteen stories?
A: Fourteen. And it would cause us to lose our distinction of being the state with the smallest tallest building. I think that honor will go to Maine!
Q: You have 12 council members. Four are Democrats, four are Progressive, three are independent, and one is a Republican. That sounds messy. Is it?
A: We make it work. It is pretty wild to have one Republican on a city council of 12 in a city of 40,000 people.
Q: Is this guy more of a build-the-wall Republican or an urbane, rational Republican?
A: He is not a build-the-wall Republican. He also serves dually as a state legislator and city councilor simultaneously. He’s what we call a “Vermont Republican.”
Q: In addition to being a city councilor, you are a dancer and a choreographer. If you could take the city council meetings and toss them aside and choreograph them to make them really pop, what would you change?
A: The public forum part is really frustrating for the public because they get their two minutes and they get to talk at the council–and then we move forward. There’s no back and forth from that point on really. Thinking choreographically, that’s like a prelude to the performance that compositionally doesn’t ping back to the main event ever.
Burlington, VT Councilor Selene Colburn
Q: If Burlington city council meetings were a Ben & Jerry’s flavor, what would they be?
A. Hazed and Confused
B. Americone Dream
C: Vanilla
A: Definitely not vanilla. I’m gonna have to go with Hazed and Confused.
Q: You do realize that is a reference to marijuana, right?
A: [Laughs]
Q: Have you met Ben and/or Jerry?
A: I have! Jerry just endorsed my campaign. They’re really active locally politically. They never go anywhere without scooping ice cream. Every event we have in Vermont that is remotely lefty and political, someone is there scooping free Ben & Jerry’s.
Q: You would think with all that dessert, Vermont would be one of the most obese states.
A: We’re not, we’re pretty healthy. We walk, bike…jump around. I had a meeting with [a constituent] about some of her concerns about a project and she was like, “ugh! Enough with the walking and the biking and the jumping! I’m so tired of hearing about all the jumping!”
Q: [Laughs] Now, we are taping this before Election Day, but you are running for the Vermont state house of representatives and you are unopposed. So congratulations on your victory.
A: Thank you! I hope there’s no vigorous write-in campaign in the last 48 hours.
Q: That would be terrible news. And Donald Trump is our president now, so that’s not ideal.
EDITOR’S NOTE: This meeting was insane. Therefore, I turned my review into a dramatic reading. For your listening pleasure:
It was a typical day at the Hackensack city council–which, for a normal person, would be absolutely terrifying.
A tall man lumbered to the podium, his shoulders hunched and his hands meaty.
“Richard Salkin in Hackensack, New Jersey,” he announced.
From the back of the room came a heckler’s yell. “WHAT ADDRESS?”
The man, Salkin, threw up his hands and made it clear: do not f*ck with me.
“I’m not going to be interrupted by Lenny Nix. It’s just not gonna happen.”
Mayor John Labrosse smacked his gavel from his high perch. “Lenny! Do not interrupt. He said Hackensack. That’s fine.”
“Everything is fine. This wood is bulletproof, right?”
Ohhhh, mayor. Things were anything BUT fine. Because Mr. Salkin wheeled around and pounced on his accuser.
“151 PROSPECT AVENUE,” he screamed. “YOU WANNA GO SLASH MY TIRES?! HAVE A GOOD TIME!”
I assure him: at this point, no one was having a good time–especially now that he started talking about his wife’s lawsuit against the very city council members he was shouting at.
“The case soon will be awaiting a trial date–” he began, before Mayor Labrosse jumped in with the gavel.
“Mr. Salkin, I hate to interrupt you, but we’re not going to discuss current litigation.”
This only made his veins pop harder. “I don’t CARE if you discuss it or not! I can speak about whatever I want. Please reset it since I was interrupted!” he hollered at the timekeeper.
What came next was a verbal avalanche of biblical proportions. A tsunami of hatred aimed at the mayor and Deputy Mayor Kathleen Canestrino.
“Mr. Labrosse and Mrs. Canestrino seem to enjoy vilifying victims of your misdeeds. I am speaking out to expose what you have done. My wife has been the victim of your cheap shots. There is no longer any insurance coverage to protect the taxpayers in Debbie’s case thanks to your incompetence and your venomous motivations!”
The man looked directly into the camera–into my eyes. I nearly jumped out of my La-Z-Boy. “Anyone who watches this on YouTube, if you have any questions, you’re very welcome to call me. I’d be thrilled to explain it you.”
Believe me: I have many, many questions. But I totally, 100 percent will not be calling him. He is scary.
Please stop looking at me.
But if you thought the madness ended there–oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. It was time for another council member to get toasted in the hot seat.
“I actually had a question for Mr. Battaglia,” a woman in a scarf looked dead-on at kindly old Council Member Leonardo Battaglia. “Can you explain what you meant during the last meeting when you said that there would be ice cream and 19-year-old girls at the SportZone?”
Battaglia, caught off guard, spoke in halting, accented English. “That was a joke I told to the guy, Chris, because I saw him many times at Dunkin’ Donuts having ice cream with 19-year-old girls, and they were not his daughter.”
“What’s funny about that?” demanded the woman.
“Because I saw him many time in working hours. And that was not right what he was doing.”
I literally cannot believe what I’m hearing. I don’t know who’s more ridiculous: him for making the terrible joke or her for deconstructing the terrible joke. But she wasn’t done raking him over the coals:
“You’re how old, sir?” she asked. He did not reply.
“It’s actually pretty disgusting for a council member to make such a comment and expect it to be funny when it denigrates women. You should apologize.”
She stomped away from the podium to scattered applause. But oh, goodness. Look who stomped back up: Lenny, the heckler from earlier. He was wearing a sweatshirt and headphones. And he spoke at the volume of a sonic boom:
“I’M NOT GONNA BS AROUND. THERE’S A LOTTA PEOPLE MAKING A LOTTA GOD DANG MONEY IN THIS TOWN THAT DON’T DESERVE IT. YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING. NOT EVEN CLOSE.”
Those headphones play the nonstop sound of German artillery.
With that, Lenny wandered away from the podium–still with the headphones and still screaming at the top of his lungs.
“DON’T MAKE UP STORIES UP ABOUT ME.”
The mayor sounded so, so tired. “We won’t talk about you at all.”
“GOOD,” Lenny hollered as Hackensack’s finest escorted him out.
The mayor turned to the middle-aged woman next in line. “Sorry, Mrs. Davis.”
“That’s all right. I am a registered nurse. I understand,” she said patiently as Lenny screamed from the back. “I just want to say that this is one of the first meetings I’ve been to that sounded like a city council meeting should be.”
Lady, I hate to tell you, but you’re not even close.
The Harrisburg city council had a smorgasbord of issues to consider on Tuesday night. And 99 percent of them came from one kindly, train-loving citizen.
“First, my request to city council: please have police officers on Second Street Wednesday night and Thursday–and especially Friday and Saturday night. Check the Sawyer’s restaurant for noise violations. This summer when they had special music concerts, they shut off the music concert by ten o’clock in the evening at the latest. Sometimes, people are not as good.”
The aged man folded his slender arms in front of him, a large black glasses case protruding from his shirt pocket. He spoke haltingly, clearing his throat directly into the microphone–which made it sound like someone was piledriving just outside the chamber.
This man has a clear message: shhhhhhhh.
“Also, there are some fellows who play music instruments on the sidewalk at the pizza shop next to Zembie’s on Friday and Saturday nights. And sometimes they get loud. And my request is to please have police officers there and check on them and make sure they cut off their music by ten o’clock in the evening at the latest.”
But before you label him a run-of-the-mill city hall gadfly, I’ll have you know that this man can do more than lodge noise complaints. In fact, he’s a regular Ferdinand Magellan–traveling the globe from Central Pennsylvania to as far away as Eastern and Western Pennsylvania. And he knows a thing or two about the romance of the rails:
“Okay, another issue: I asked the city of Harrisburg and the state to support adding one additional passenger train on the Amtrak line from Harrisburg to Pittsburgh. The train we have now, it’s a good train. It’s a beautiful, thrilling ride, but the schedule requires at least one overnight stay in Pittsburgh and the hotels that I checked in Pittsburgh are awfully expensive.”
It was barely perceptible, but as he talked more and more about the trains, you could tell THIS was the thing that truly excited him.
His bumper sticker reads “My Other City Council is a Train.”
“And one other thing: back in June, I went on a beautiful Amtrak train trip that was fantastic from Harrisburg to Philadelphia and Philadelphia to Washington, D.C., and then going across Northern Virginia and West Virginia, and then overnight to Chicago. And the ride I liked the best was going across Virginia and West Virginia and went over the Blue Ridge Mountains. Praise god and the Amtrak people! And the other railroad people also did a great job!”
Hey, Amtrak, are you hiring spokespeople? This guy praised god AND Amtrak people in the same breath! Can you at least give him free rides for life between Harrisburg and Pittsburgh?
Speaking of spokespeople, Council President Wanda Williams had her own exciting transportation announcement:
“I’m proud to say that my husband won the ‘direct support professional’ for the state of Pennsylvania,” she grinned with pride. “He was chosen among 200 other applicants. He represented the state of Pennsylvania in Chicago.”
Then, the bombshell.
“His picture is now on the billboard going towards I-83 south.”
Other council members chuckled approvingly. “Okay!” “Yeah!” they murmured.
“Drive slowly–my husband is watching you.”
Final thoughts: It’s a three-way tie, folks: 10 out of 10 stars to the citizen commenter, the council president’s husband, and trains. Hooray, trains!
One if by land! Two if by sea! Three if…Revere’s mayor cancels the community forum?
“I got an e-mail from the mayor’s office,” announced a sullen Councilor Charles Patch. “The subject was tomorrow’s community forum. They postponed it. They’re either going to reschedule it or they want you to go to the Ward 4 meeting. I hope the mayor’s going to have somebody standing down there at six o’clock for the people who are going to show up.”
Here’s the problem: with his thick accent and his hand clenched in a fist, Patch sounded less like John. Q. Councilor and more like a mafia boss discreetly ordering a hit:
So I got an e-mail from the mayah’s office. They postponed the community forum. They want you–YOU–to go to the Wahd Fo-ah meeting!
Well, I SURE HOPE the mayah’s gonna have somebody standing down theah at six o’clock for the “people” who are gonna show up.
“Don’t worry, mayah. I’ve got some nice warm concrete you can rest your feet in.”
As it turns out, a bunch of goons kneecapping the mayor was the least of Revere’s problems.
“Calendar item #3,” read the clerk, “requesting the police and fire chiefs appear before the city council to discuss ways to lessen overdoses at Dunkin’ Donuts.”
“Overdose” is a little extreme, don’t you think? I mean who hasn’t had one too many French Crullers and passed out on the floor of a Dunkin’? Is that what we’re talking about, Councilor George Rotondo?
“We have to do something about people utilizing public bathrooms and doing drugs, in particular heroin,” the bearded councilor wrung his hands. “If they are in a bathroom alone, the likelihood for mortality is very high.”
Councilor Anthony Zambuto was quizzical about this toilet fixation. “I’m not sure what he’s asking…that we let two people go in the bathroom? So if one shoots up, the other can call 911 if they have an overdose?”
Councilor Rotondo balked at the suggestion of having a buddy system for needle pushers. “No! To the contrary. In Bahstahn they actually have someone sit in with someone who is shooting up, but this isn’t what that is at all!”
The council took a vote as the camera operator made a vertigo-inducing pan. Look away if you feel nauseous:
But when it rains, it pours. And Councilor Patrick Keefe had a piece of bad news that affects the most sacred of Boston institutions: baseball.
“I think we all read the newspaper this last week…there happened to be some illegal activity happening on the field or in the dugout areas. We should find the money to have good camera systems down at the stadium and the field.”
Councilor Patch piled on to the list of problems. “We’ve had a couple of overdoses down there also. I think the cameras are necessary.”
A frustrated Councilor Rotondo furrowed his brow and grimaced deeply. “We need to put cameras in EVERY SINGLE FACILITY that we have in the city! We’ve had several overdoses in city pahks. To save one life, it’s worth all the cameras!”
It was a bad day for the pro-overdosing-in-parks-and-bathrooms crowd at the Revere city council meeting.
Final thoughts: For trying to clean up the city, I give Councilor Rotondo 10 out of 10 broomsticks. Vaya con Dios.
As usual, you can listen to this podcast interview on iTunes, Stitcher, Player FM or right here:
This is a fun one! Rochester city council Vice President Dana Miller filled me in on what kind of vice president he is (hint: not a Dan Quayle) and how there is fierce competition between the public commenters at council meetings.
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Q: How is being the vice president of the Rochester city council similar to being vice president of the United States?
A: The jobs are similar in that the vice president of city council and the vice president of the United States serve as a backup for the president.
Q: Do you see yourself more as a Joe Biden or a Dick Cheney?
A: It’s interesting–I met Joe Biden. It turns out, we both have two sons, we were both married in 1977, we both have sisters named Valerie who worked on our campaigns. So I find myself having an affinity for Joe Biden and being there as a person who could step in for the president–and not necessarily be a shadowy figure who’s actually pulling the strings.
Q: “Shadowy figure?” Sir, are you telling me that you have never shot one of your friends in the face while bird hunting?
A: I can absolutely say with certainty that I have not shot any of my friends in the face while bird hunting.
Rochester, NY Council Vice President Dana Miller
Q: Do you bring a different personality or energy to the meetings when you preside?
A: I would like to think so. We have a session before the council meeting starts called Speak to Council where people can talk about any topic they want. I like to ensure that people are knowing they are welcome to be there. I like to give them some eye contact.
Q: Mmhmm.
A: We have the A List, which are things that are going to be discussed that evening. And the B List, which is everything else. The A Listers get to go first. The B Listers tend to be people who come to every council meeting and they always have something to discuss. The B Listers kind of compete to see who is going to be the last speaker. That’s interesting to watch.
Q: For the other council members, are they behaving like their normal selves on camera, or are we seeing a different version of them?
A: One of the fears of the cameras was that people would be different. When I first joined council, I argued for the fact that we should broadcast the meeting. I was greeted with “over my dead body” by some people–all of whom are no longer on council.
Q: Wow.
A: There was a great fear that people would be playing to the cameras or going on long-winded diatribes just to get airtime. I’ve not really seen that.
Q: The Rochester City council has a newsletter. And the name of the newsletter…I want to pronounce this correctly…THE CITY COUNCIL CHRONICLE! Who do I have to talk to to get that named changed?!
A: I would encourage you to sign up for the B List and make your case. I’m sure we would listen intently.
Follow Councilman Dana Miller on Twitter: @dkmiller26
City Council Chronicles 
