Category: Northeast

#54: Oswego, NY 9/26/16

“Gentlemen,” began the mustachioed public commenter in the Oswego council chamber, “I want you to know that I’ve taken a survey through this town…what?”

One councilor muttered something off-mic.

“What did I say?” the man stared blankly.

“She’s not a gentleman,” said the voice, indicating the presence of Councilor Caitlin Reynolds.

The citizen commenter smoothly bowed and issued an extended mea culpa.

“Gentlewoman! I apologize. I’m old school. Let me get on my hands and knees for this–” He pivoted to the onlookers and held up a palm. “I apologize to all you female people.”

He was buttering up the crowd for something. I could tell by his suave demeanor and the way his t-shirt was tucked into his khakis that he was about to rip someone a new butthole.

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“Dudes and lady dudes, I’m sorry.”

“I took a poll here this past two weeks. It’s been–” terrible? people are furious? “–very good feedback. Very good. You people know what Standard & Poor’s is? It’s the stock market guys who grade the credit rating. This city, this council, this mayor is at QUADRUPLE A! Nobody’s complaining! They LOVE what you’re doing.”

Wow, that’s incredible! Leaving aside the fact that Quadruple A doesn’t exist, it’s truly amazing when there are ZERO complaints about ANYTH–oh, sorry, you had one more thing to say?

“One more thing, Mr. Mayor,” the man added Columbo-style, scanning the room behind him. “I see that he’s not here tonight….I would like to dismiss the fire chief, okay? It’s time for him to go. They don’t like him anymore. GET RID OF HIM. He is BEYOND BELIEF a scumbag, okay?”

Jesus. Talk about Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. How did we go from “nobody’s complaining” to “heads must roll?”

“And I’m sorry if that’s too direct,” the man said, not nearly as contrite as when he called ladypeople men earlier, “and if that’s personal, that’s too bad because he’s called ME a couple names in his lifetime, too. Thank you.”

Mayor William Barlow, Jr. propped himself on one elbow with his finger almost touching his eyeball. “Thank you,” he muttered.

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Nice headlights, your honor.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, all of a sudden, in marched the Grinch.

“I don’t want people to think that I’m against holiday tree lighting ceremonies,” began Councilor Robert Corradino innocently enough, “BUT we’re going to be spending about $6,000 for a temporary ice skating rink that uses a synthetic surface.”

His Grinchitude tapped his fingers. “I just feel that with all the other expenses we have, it’s a lot of money. I don’t say it’s NOT a good idea, but for ten hours on one day?”

Councilor John Gosek, a.k.a. Second Field Lieutenant in Oswego’s War on Christmas, piled on. “I don’t know how I can justify this to my constituents. We have several skating rinks available in the city we can perhaps use.”

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Why don’t you chop down the city’s Christmas tree to make your desks? OH WAIT, YOU ALREADY DID.

Rushing to Christmas’s defense was pro-skating rink Councilor Nathan Emmons. “It’s not only ‘take, take, take’ money from our residents, but we turn around and provide ENJOYMENT within our community! I think there’s a lot of value in that.”

With that, the council’s hearts grew three sizes–they voted unanimously for the skating rink. Councilor Emmons saved Christmas!

Interview #14: Bangor, ME Councilor Joe Baldacci (with podcast)

This is our second podcast interview which, as a reminder, is available on iTunes, Stitcher, and Player FM. You can also listen right here:

I talked to Bangor city councilor Joe Baldacci about city council dress codes, whether he preferred being mayor, and what it was like being 20 years younger than everyone else when first elected.

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Q: You were elected to the Bangor city council in 1996. How were council meetings different in the 1990s than they are today? And feel free to quote Backstreet Boys lyrics in your answer.

A: [Laughs] They were not televised in the 1990s. They were more informal, I think you would say. Because they’re televised and recorded now, there’s always an assurance we’re making to make sure it’s fully transparent. That all things are discussed in public. Twenty years ago, I don’t think that same care was taken.

Q: What do you wear to city council meetings, and what do you think the dress code should be?

A: I think that on occasion, having buttoned-up short-sleeved shirts are fine. This is a part-time city council, we all have jobs outside of city council. Half the time I’m wearing a suit and tie, and half the time I’m maybe wearing a suit without tie or just a button-down shirt. It’s not overly formal.

Q: I always thought that in Maine, a short-sleeved buttoned-down shirt was the most formal you could be. Apparently, I was wrong. Okay, so you were mayor from 1998-1999. Which did you like better: being the mayor or a regular councilor?

A: Well, as a regular councilor you can be a little more, honestly, outspoken on issues. As the mayor, your focus really is trying to ensure consensus and stability.

Q: So it sounds like you’re just fine with being regular Joe Councilman? Literally, Joe Councilman.

A: The mayor doesn’t have any more votes than I do. It’s a ceremonial position more or less. It’s an honor. It’s all good. It’s just that as an individual councilor, you can push issues.

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Bangor, ME Councilor Joe Baldacci

Q: Your brother was also a Bangor city councilor who went on to be a congressman and governor of Maine. Is there any rivalry between the two of you where he says, “YOU’RE just a councilman. I was governor!” And you go “Yeah, you WERE. At least I’m still on the city council!”

A: [Laughs] No, John’s been very supportive.

Q: What advice did he give you when you were elected?

A: He told me to listen to the people that had been there many, many years. I was 31 and kind of a newbie. I think after me, everyone was in their 50s, 60s, or 70s.

Q: Wait, that’s a 20-year age gap. Did you feel any burden to prove you were mature enough to be on the council with these much older people?

A: Yes. Yeah, definitely. Especially the first year.

Q: If you caught some lobster and had a boil party at your house, who would you invite over to share it with?

A: Probably Councilor Perry…Councilor Graham…Councilor Faircloth…and–

Q: You can’t name all of them. You have to pick a favorite.

A: I like all of them equally!

Q: If I was talking to you in your first year, you would’ve picked a favorite. But you’re more diplomatic now.

A: Exactly.

Follow Councilor Joe Baldacci on Twitter: @JoeBaldacci

#52: Ellsworth, ME 9/19/16

It’s autumn in New England: the leaves are changing, the lobsters are boiling, and the city councils are laser focused on the People’s Business.

In Ellsworth, it turns out that things are actually going very, very well. So well in fact, there’s photographic proof.

“Up on the screen, you’re seeing the five award winners in the city’s recent photo contest,” the city manager gestured to a slideshow playing just off-camera.

Winners included “Fall on Leonard Lake.” “Sunset on Branch Lake.” “Sunset on Union River.”

“All these sunsets,” he quietly groused. “I’m looking for a sunrise.” Me too, buddy. Just not one that occurs at the butt-crack of dawn.

Council Chairman Robert Crosthwaite stared transfixed at the digital photo show. “I just wanna say, those make a great backdrop for council meetings. Takes off the boredom.”

Psst! Mr. Chairman, you’re not supposed to say at the council meetings that they’re boring! (Instead, say it on City Council Chronicles’s new podcast, now available on iTunes.)

Crosthwaite turned to the bearded, baseball cap-clad man hiding in the rear. “Mr. Harbormaster?”

His Mastercy swaggered up to the podium. “There’s gonna be hot air balloon rides on Friday night and Saturday morning. The chowdah fest–noon to 2. And the beer and wine tasting tent, it’s gonna be behind the gazebo.” He returned to his seat, keeping a solid poker face while rattling off the objectively kickass event listing.

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Look! It’s the picture!

“Any comments from the citizens?” the chairman asked. Not a soul stepped forward, even though the room was oddly packed to the gills. “Good to see. I guess we get ’em all by Facebook now.”

The fire chief squeezed forth from the crowd to bestow an award on some local superstars.

“On September 1, there was a gentleman that had a medical event driving down High Street, and was witnessed by Jack Carlin.” The chief held the audience at rapt attention, describing the car’s harrowing path through Ellsworth:

“He was exceeding 80 miles an hour, narrowly missing a vehicle on Water Street, careening down the Harbor Park. He ended up submerging the vehicle. Mr. Carlin got down to the harbor at the same time harbormaster Adam Wilson noticed the event occurring, and the two gentlemen came to the rescue.”

The harbormaster took an encore at the podium alongside Carlin as the audience thunderously applauded. “We have your back,” Chairman Crosthwaite gave a thumbs up after the cheers subsided.

It turns out, the two dozen or so people crowding the chamber were only there to hear about the Harbor Heroes. “Public hearing on amendments to the code of ordinances. Chapter 5, sewer ordinance, article 10–” the chairman began reading over the loud shuffle of everybody beelining for the exit.

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Whoa, okay now, is a stampede really necessary?

Their loss. They really should have nixed the Irish Goodbye and stayed for the alcohol permits–which included an application from “A.A.R.G.H., Inc.”

Councilor Gary Fortier needled the chairman. “I was disappointed you did not pronounce it–”

“Aargh?” Crosthwaite anticipated

“AARGH!” several councilors grunted.

“It is [Talk Like a] Pirate Day,” one councilor whispered.

Final thoughts: I can’t believe I found out it was Talk Like a Pirate Day by watching a city council meeting. Social media, you’re dead to me.

#48: Groton, CT 9/6/16

It’s insane.

It’s reckless.

It’s a city council meeting…in under ten minutes.

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Nine minutes and forty-eight seconds, to be precise. I don’t care how fast you can talk–to let anyone less than a three-term council member attempt this stunt is a Chernobyl-level disaster waiting to happen. But hey, we’re all young once. I say if these kids want to “find themselves,” or whatever, who’s to stop them?

Let’s go zero to 60.

“Are there any recognitions, awards, memorials?” Deputy Mayor Keith Hendrick rattled off like a Texas cattle auctioneer.

“I have one,” jumped in Councilor Andrew Ilvento without missing a beat. “We had our back to school party, and the city is so great about helping put together something that is great for the kids. This year, the Navy came over and brought stuff.”

“Stuff?” Battleships? Torpedoes? Is there time for clarifica–

“K. Receipt of citizens petitions? I see none,” the deputy mayor raced onward. “Any communications and reports?”

Councilor Lawrence Gerrish downshifted and pumped the brakes. “I’ll be having a meeting…uh…very near future on Public Safety, uh, Committee…uh, review of ordinances.”

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Spit it out!

My god, man! We don’t have time for pregnant pauses! Especially not with the hairpin turn Deputy Mayor Hendrick steered straight into:

“Councilor Ilvento is stepping down from the Board of Ed/Town of Groton/City of Groton/RTM Liaison Committee. We need someone to fill that position,” he grimaced, before delivering the kicker: “the next meeting is tomorrow.”

This was a risky maneuver. If no one volunteered, there would be a five-councilor pileup at the halfway point.

“I’m waiting on Councilor [Conrad] Heede,” the Deputy Mayor gestured to Heede’s empty chair. “I thought he expressed an interest in the past, but…is anybody interested in being on that committee?”

“Is that the meeting time always?” inquired Councilor Jill Rusk.

Councilor Ilvento attempted to entice her. “Yes, Wednesdays at 5:30 and they ALWAYS run an hour. They’re VERY good about–”

The Deputy Mayor cut him off to save precious seconds. “I think you had a conflict?” She nodded anxiously.

In the kind of shotgun decision making that might careen any lesser man over the guard rails, Deputy Mayor Hendrick peeled out of this jam in a cloud of smoke and tire tracks.

“I’m gonna see if we can get somebody. I have something scheduled for tomorrow, but if I cannot get someone there…I will show up late so we can be represented at this meeting.”

Great Studebaker’s Horse…it’s minute EIGHT and we STILL haven’t done the energy conservation project! Will they make it?!

Strutting quickly, the gray-haired energy engineer spoke as he rushed the table.

“We’re at the final stages of execution. The annual energy savings, it approaches about a million dollars.”

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I call this guy “Quicksilver.”

“What does this do for us?” the Deputy Mayor fired off with 50 seconds to go.

“What does it do for us? It basically keeps the sub-base in a more competitive position.”

Fifteen seconds on the clock–it’s gonna be a photo finish! 3-2-1…DO YOU BELIEVE IN MIRACLES?! It passes!

Final thoughts: We had a lot of fun here, but remember: speeding council meetings kill millions of Americans each year. Be safe. Never drink and run a city council meeting.

#43: Laconia, NH 8/22/16

It took a real team effort to carry the Laconia city council meeting across the finish line.

“Time to get going with the city council,” Mayor Pro Tem Armand Bolduc quietly sighed. “So I’m opening up the meeting–”

“Move that a little closer to you,” whispered Councilor Henry Lipman, edging the microphone toward Bolduc.

“Citizen comments?” the mayor pro tem peered out from behind a sprawling potted plant unconquered by hedge trimmers. “I don’t see anybody moving back there, so–”

“That’s just so she can hear you,” Councilor Brenda Baer interrupted as she planted someone’s pocket recorder beside Bolduc’s notes.

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Laconia city council (above) with mayor Marvin the Ficus

Okay, we cool? Can everyone turn up their hearing aid and listen to the busy, busy agenda?

“Interviews…we don’t have any. Communications…we don’t have any,” the mayor pro tem muttered as he slowly moved his finger down the checklist. The seconds ticked by. The fan whirred overhead. Finally, something to talk about:

“With no further ado, I’ll open the public hearing at 7:02,” Bolduc craned his head toward the clock.

“This is on the two solar powered benches?” asked the city manager.

“That’s right,” the mayor pro tem responded. “Free to the city, which we don’t get too often.” He stared at the audience. The audience stared at him. “Anybody have anything to say about it? If not, I’ll close the public hearing at, what…7:03?”

I’m sensing a pattern here. Luckily, one of the councilors had some business.

“I’d like to schedule a meeting to look at the lighting project that we’ve talked about,” said Councilor Lipman. “Replacing the…uh–”

“Street lights?” Bolduc bailed him out.

“Street lights,” Lipman acknowledged, “with…what’s the technical name?”

“LEDs,” tag-teamed Councilor Baer.

“LEDs, thank you.” Whew, this is like defusing a bomb.

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The ESP is strong in this group.

Suddenly, the director of recreation and facilities tossed a wrench into the gears.

“With high pedestrian traffic and a focus on the aesthetic value of the area, the advisory board is recommending stamped, colored, concrete crosswalks” on Lakeside Avenue.

Once again, the council absorbed this news through their collective digestive system.

“The colored concrete crosswalks, we’re gonna spend $60,000 to color what’s already there?” Councilor Baer asked.

“It’s like a brick, but not painted onto the asphalt,” the mayor pro tem attempted to explain.

“It’s a slab,” further clarified Councilor Robert Hamel.

Slabby painted concrete. Got it.

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Would you trust this man with your concrete slabs? I would.

“What kind of timeline do you have? When do you need these?” Councilor Ava Doyle wondered.

“They’re anxious to have information on what we’re gonna do–” the director started, before Councilor Hamel slammed his fist on the table.

“It doesn’t matter! It’s not etched in stone that we have to do it.” (Uh, I think it’s actually painted in concrete.) “WE decide whether we do it or not.”

The council agreed unanimously to get some prices. Also, to take those free solar-powered benches from earlier. As the mayor pro tem adjourned, he noticed the pocket recorder in front of him.

“How do you control this thing?!” he exclaimed, pushing it off to Councilor Baer.

Final thoughts: This was a toughie, but I give 10 out of 10 stars to that plant for being such a dedicated public servant.

It’s International City Hall Selfie Day!

It’s here! It’s finally here! International #CityHallSelfie Day, which celebrates that time Moses led the Israelites to city hall and took selfies with Pharaoh–or something.

In the spirit of the holiday, City Council Chronicles will feature any selfie that is taken a.) WITH a city council member (mayors count, too) or b.) INSIDE OF a city council room. While I support neither kidnapping nor trespassing, I would point out that we are burning daylight, people.

LET’S SEE THOSE PICS!

From San Diego, California city councilman Chris Cate:

From Los Angeles city councilman David E. Ryu:

From the city of Colorado Springs, Colorado:

From the mayor on top of the fire truck’s ladder to the fact that someone even higher than him is taking his picture–to the fact that he didn’t even post HIS selfie, this is all just fantastic:

From Campbell, California, his heart is in the right place:

From Mayor Greg Stanton of Phoenix, Arizona, which we have chronicled:

Elsewhere, not in an underground war room, was Phoenix Vice Mayor Kate Gallego:

From the Mayor of Pensacola, Florida:

That sure as heck looks like a council chamber to me. From Santa Barbara, California:

From Columbia, Missouri with council member Ian Thomas:

A couple from Mayor Matt Surrency of Hawthorne, Florida:

More selfies with the cutout mayors of Las Vegas:

From Mayor Jim Lane in Scottsdale, Arizona:

From Mayor Dan Devine of West Allis, Wisconsin:

Normal, Illinois is technically a town, but that’s a disturbingly large council chamber for a mere town, so I’ll allow it:

From Kansas City, Missouri Mayor Sly James (this is my new desktop background):

From Provo, Utah Mayor John Curtis:

From city council member Dan Gookin in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho:

From the city of Folsom, California:

It’s not a city, but damned if Collierville, Tennessee wasn’t on the mother-fudging ball today:

From Palmetto Bay, Florida Mayor Engene Flinn:

From Roseville, Minnesota Mayor Dan Roe:

From Mayor BJ Murphy and city council in Kinston, North Carolina:

From the entire Kiksville, Missouri city council:

From West Linn, Oregon city council president Thomas  Frank:

From Jefferson City, Missouri councilman Ken Hussey:

From Mayor Andrew H. Scott of Coal Run Village, Kentucky. Perfect execution, your honor:

I’m hoping these people are the Johnston, Iowa city council and not a furniture delivery company:

From Lewisville, Texas council member TJ Gilmore, who took quite a selfie road trip today:

From the city of Grover Beach, California:

From the mayor’s chair in Atlanta, Texas (plot twist: this isn’t the mayor):

From the city of Tulsa, Oklahoma’s council member Anna America:

From the city of Auburndale, Florida, where weirdly only one city commissioner is taking a selfie, and this is not it:

From the city of Largo, Florida’s vice mayor Jamie Robinson:

From Gaithersburg, Maryland, the “Stepford Wives” of city councils:

From Shoreview, Minnesota councilman Cory Springhorn:

Terrific participation from Bemidji, Minnesota councilman Michael Meehlhause:

From Alder (the heck is that?) Maurice Cheeks in Madison, Wisconsin:

From Atlanta, Georgia’s city council president Ceasar Mitchell:

More from the cardboard mayors in Las Vegas:

Well, this one is from a dog. So, yeah:

This one traveled a long way: from Prince George, British Columbia, courtesy of Councilor Garth Frizzell:

This is the loop-holiest one yet, but in a brilliant way. The Shoreview, Minnesota city council meeting is ON THE MONITOR in the middle right:

Another one from Gahanna, Ohio: what looks to be city council members in the city council chamber. Score! Although is this really a selfie? I’m skeptical:

From Mayor Hillary Schieve of Reno, Nevada:

From the council chambers of Glendale, California:

With all the hubbub, I almost forgot my own selfie! From Denver, Colorado and YES–with city council members, IN the city council room:

Technically a town, not a city. But I’ll allow it. From Gilbert, Arizona with, I’m not mistaken, newly-minted Mayor Jenn Daniels:

Peekaboo from the mayor of Tigard, Oregon:

Now we’re cooking with gas! A group city council member selfie from Durham, North Carolina:

From the mayor of St. Petersburg, Florida:

From the city of Rogers, Arkansas:

From my friend in Baltimore–which, by the way, has one of my top city council chambers:

Let’s put the “inter” in International City Hall Selfie Day! This one’s from Toronto city councilor–and past City Council Chronicles interviewee–Shelley Carroll:

And another one with more councilors:

This selfie is from city hall reporter and past interviewee Dave Gong:

From Henry Parrish, III mayor of Cocoa:

Aw, yeah! Gahanna, Ohio is in the house:

Okay, Kansas, technically NOT A SELFIE and also NOT INSIDE OF the council room. But I’m not going to hold it against Jeff:

Now if you want to do a loophole correctly, follow the lead of Las Vegas:

From Mayor Justin Nickels of Manitowoc, WI:

From the city of Auburndale, FL:

 

Mark Your Calendar: National #CityHallSelfie Day

Attention Chronicleheads! Next Monday, August 15, is the holiest of high holy holidays: National #CityHallSelfie Day! The concept is simple: 1.) take a selfie at your city hall 2.) win prize.

From the event page:

The first annual National #CityHallSelfie Day is taking place on Monday, August 15. Our goal is to break the record for city hall selfies taken in one day. What’s the record? We’re not quite sure but we’ve pegged it at around nine.

You can participate in this new holiday by posting your #cityhallselfie on Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, or Twitter. If you not a fan of social media, send your #cityhallselfie via email.

Prizes will be awarded all day. Everyone who participates will receive an ELGL coozie. You’ll also have a chance to win a selfie stick, Treat Yo Self mug, Pawnee ringer t-shirt, Indiana names t-shirt, and RIP Harambe t-shirt.

As a bonus, City Council Chronicles is upping the ante. If you take a selfie WITH a city council member OR INSIDE OF a city council room, your picture will be posted here! So get out there and ambush somebody!

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The Chronicles gets an award nomination!

I’m super stoked to report that our friends at Engaging Local Government Leaders (elgl.org) nominated City Council Chronicles for the “Top 100 Local Government Influencers” list–a.k.a. the “Chris Traeger” award.

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We’re changing the world, baby! Personally, I  was angling for the Presidential Medal of Freedom, but this is an acceptable substitute. Now that we’re an official Local Government Influencer, call up your city council member and tell them they have no excuse not to get chronicled!

#38: Dover, DE 7/25/16

It’s a beautiful evening at Dover City Hall. The city council is ready to go and boy, what a diverse, good-looking group of–what?

This isn’t the city council? Then who the h*ck are these people?

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Control room, can we get a shot of the city council please?

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THERE they are. Barely.

The first order of business was presenting an oversize, Publishers Clearing House-style check to a senior citizens’ home. The guy in charge accepted the award by embarking on a long, slow stemwinder of a tale. “We have 30 employees. We’re down a couple right now. We hired people from 18 years old–she just left–”

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As the speech meandered, so did the control room–which decided that now was the perfect time for cutaway shots.

“Our average age is 75 years old. If you think about that, 75 is an average age–”

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“We have a wonderful facility. For those of you who have not been out there, I would be glad to give you a tour–”

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“It’s tough out there. For the fire department, you know, when you deal with seniors, there’s a lot of cooking incidents–”

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FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, NO MORE CLOSE-UPS.

At the conclusion, everyone snapped out of their stupor and applauded. Councilman Fred Neil–himself well above the average age in the senior home–shook hands and quipped, “as an 82-year-old, save me a spot!”

The council quickly pivoted to the youthful and chipper city librarian, who was here to brag about Dover Comic Con. “We’re starting on Friday night about 5:30 with the arrival of the Ghostbusters,” she promised.

Councilman David Anderson leaned forward intently. “Will the Tardis be there this year?”

“The Tardis will be there,” confirmed the librarian.

Councilman Neil piped up. “I thought it was marvelous when I went last year! I was greeted like a character, even though I was not in uniform.” (For context, he looks like the guy from “Up.”) “Even though I was one of the old guys, I appreciated what was going on.”

Speaking of goings-on, “Mr. Sudler had a get-together last weekend,” recalled Councilman William Hare. “I have to say that all the hype about Roy’s Ribs was true! There was only one problem with ’em: there wasn’t enough!” The councilmen cackled in response.

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The rib kingpin of central Delaware

Councilman Roy Sudler, Jr., the culinary maestro of city hall, leveled a challenge right back at Hare: “Mt. Zion AME Church, they will be hosting an annual back to school and community fair. They would like to invite you to be this year’s celebrity chef–helping to cook hotdogs and hamburgers.”

Councilman Hare reflected. “Is there a waiver that we’re not held responsible for them eating my cooking?” Ha! Councilman, you and your poisonous gruel! Stick to what you know: order a couple buckets of Roy Sudler’s Ribs and call it a picnic.

Final thoughts: Oh, hey, control room dad!

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