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 joyous week here at The Chronicles: our podcast is a year old! It seems like just yesterday that we were interviewing people about their city council meetings using a wax cylinder attached to my great-grandma’s phonograph.
For our regular listeners, it may come as no surprise that we have recorded
51 interviews
Of those guests,
67% were council members 👪
16% were mayors 👨⚖️
14% were municipal staff 💼
Geographically,
24% were from the Southeast ⛪️
20% were International 🚅
18% were from the Southwest 🌵
14% were from the Midwest 🌽
12% were from the Northeast 🗽
12% were from the Northwest 🌧️
And demographically, the guests were
51% male ♂️
49% female ♀️
If this is the first you are hearing of the podcast, buddy have I got a hyperlink for you. Check out ALL of our episodes right here.
Editor’s picks
To celebrate the occasion, we have a special one-year recap episode with highlights from five interviews. That audio is available on iTunes, Stitcher, Player FM, and right here:
Benny Zhang graduated from the College of William & Mary last year–then started as a city council member one month later! We talk about his unique first meeting and his pre-council meeting ritual.
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Q: Your swearing-in meeting happened a little differently than those of most city council members. You’re packed into the old courthouse and the town crier yells, “god save the king!” What did you think of that?
A: Being a history buff, I think that was entirely cool. Being the first Asian-American elected to that office, I felt a little bit out of place given where my heritage came from.
Q: Being in Williamsburg for college for four years and walking through Colonial Williamsburg, did that make you feel out of place? Or was it just this moment where you thought, “this is too much pageantry for me?”
A: I think it was just that incident. You also have to see the picture: there is a golden mace [and] the reenactor talks about how, in certain southern states, that mace signifies that there’s a session for the government. But also they’d use it as a drinking cup! I was very tempted to drink from that mace with some beer.
Q: You got onto the city council one month after graduating from William & Mary. Were you concerned that becoming a city council member so soon would impact your chances of moving back to your parents’ basement?
A: [Laughs] Not necessarily. My family invested in a home in Williamsburg, which gave me the ability to campaign as, “I am a Williamsburg resident who pays local taxes, receives city services, who also HAPPENS to be a William & Mary student.” I guess technically in this house, I am living in my parents’ basement–
Q: Is that where you’re talking to me from?
A: Yeah, we’re talking from my home base!
Q: I love how millennial-centric this podcast will be!
Williamsburg, VA Council Member Benny Zhang
Do you wish more students would show up at council meetings to rebut the complaints of residents?
A: Sure. Students comprise 43 percent of the city’s population. In public comment, it might seem totally one-sided. But not everyone that you wish was in the room are in the room.
Q: Was there any expectation that you would be the “students’ representative” on the council?
A: For me, definitely. I am that resident in Williamsburg and since I can empathize with other residents, I think they see me as more of a young professional.
Q: Have any of your friends who see you now in council meetings said, “Councilman Benny Zhang is different from the Benny Zhang we knew?”
A: Yeah, I think there is a degree of awe there. I will say, I have not changed my wallpaper on my iPhone–“never forget where you came from.” I’m just the same guy on that dais. I’m a little more serious because I have to. I got involved in city council [by] sitting in on meetings. I would go up the dais and say hi and bye to them. What I do now is I always arrive 30 minutes before a city council meeting and I go up to the audience before the meeting starts and try to shake everyone’s hand. That’s an interaction I wish I had when I was sitting in on council meetings.
Follow Council Member Benny Zhang on Twitter: @benming_zhang
There are a handful of things in this world that regularly get people’s blood pressure up. Fidget spinners. Avocado toast. Anything surnamed “Kardashian.”
But in Whitefish, the trigger word was “water.”
A citizen in a plaid shirt planted herself at the podium and gazed steely eyed at Public Works Director Craig Workman. “Are you thinking about implementing any of the new technology in wastewater treatment?” she inquired.
“Yes, we are,” he replied. “We’ve begun the design of the wastewater treatment plant upgrades.”
“Including metals and microbes?” she pressed the witness.
“Yeah, metals are one of the parameters–”
“Is that being inspected now?”
“Yes–”
“Are you adding more sensitivity?” she interrupted.
“Well, the detection is done at the laboratory–”
“Which is here?”
“It’s in Kalispell.”
She collected her notes and concluded the interrogation. “Thank you…for now.”
The prosecution rests
The mayor and council sat quietly during this aggressive questioning. A cheerful and somewhat nervous new resident smiled from behind the microphone.
“I’m a single mom of a three-year-old boy,” she greeted the council. “My first month, the water bill was fairly low. In June, my water bill was $100. In July, my water bill was $437.”
She turned to Workman and wondered, “do we really need all of these enhancements going into a water treatment plant?”
“I’ll allow this question,” Mayor John Muhlfeld firmly interjected. “Just for the audience, this isn’t an opportunity for Q&A between the public and our staff.”
Well, well, what a fine time to start enforcing the rules!
If you’re going to ask questions, go for the jugular right away.
A man in a t-shirt and shorts took his turn at the mic. In a slight British accent, he winced while calling attention to his casual attire. “I just want to apologize for my lack of professionalism.”
“I’m $200,” he referred to his own water bill. “I just can’t keep up. I don’t want to sound like a whiner, but my family is hurting. I have a family of five who shower once a day and I put pressure on the boys to take short showers.”
He grimaced deeply while staring down the bridge of his nose through glasses. “My lawn is brown. When I water the fruit trees, I feel guilty because I see money running into the ground. I’m hurting.”
Councilor Richard Hildner, himself touting a large family, smiled faintly. “I don’t know how you get around that other than you turn off the hot water and they get a cold shower!”
He added, as a glimpse into his own parenting style, “having had three teenagers at home all at once, I know what you’re up against.”
The hot water czar
At this point, Councilor Andy Feury glanced up from his computer. “I’ll save you a trip to visit Craig,” he hollered to the single mom who had spoken earlier.
“Your usage in June was 6,000 gallons. You used 32,000 gallons in July. And you don’t have a sprinkling meter, so you paid sewage charge on an additional 26,000 gallons of water. That’s why you went from $100 to $400.”
Wow, that was some speedy research! Now do me! How many gallons did I use?!
“I would like to see,” plaid-shirt-lady announced during a reappearance at the podium, “some pencil-and-erasure math on the operating costs. It’s the one area where maybe there could be some tightening of the margins.”
If by “tightening the margins” you mean “policing teenagers’ shower length”–tighten away.
Summer may be winding down, but the city council meetings are heating up! The biggest news out of August was International City Hall Selfie Day. You can check your social media for the thousands of images generated on the holiest of high holidays or you can peruse my Top 10 list instead. I also invited a top selfie expert on the podcast to pick an ultimate winner.
Of course, we saw our fair share of drama in city council meetings, including two mayors who raised their voices at council members and an entire council meeting that very quickly turned into a bonfire. If you missed that Jerry Springer plotline, go scan the August Month in Review.
And if you don’t know why this man is pointing at heaven…it’s because he’s pointing at heaven. But the reason will blow your heathen mind:
HUGE NEWS: this is our first international episode of the “Best Thing, Worst Thing” project! And the Canadians I talked to could not have been nicer: you’ll hear from senior citizens playing lawn bowling in the suburbs. You’ll sit on the sidewalk as a blues guitarist serenades us. And most climactic of all, you’ll observe a butter tart bake-off at a fancy hotel, listening to judges and pastry chefs alike. (I’ve been told that this is a HIGHLY Canadian thing to do.)
If you’ve never heard of the project before, check out the page here. When you are mentally prepared to discover who won the Great Canadian Butter Tart Battle, click to the City Council Chronicles podcast to download the latest episode. Or you can play it below.
Episode 11: Toronto, Ontario
Toronto is the most populous city in Canada and one of the most multicultural places in the world. It was amalgamated in 1998 from several smaller cities and is crisscrossed by streetcars and subways–although those are often a target of Torontonians’ frustrations. We will learn about lawn bowling from a senior citizens’ league, sample the merchandise in a sex shop, and experience a play-by-play of the Great Canadian Butter Tart Battle. Along the way, we will hear from an immigrant, a city councilor, pastry chefs, a musician, and an educator.
It took astonishingly little time for the Council Bluffs council meeting to go from zero to 11.
“I need to know what kind of right-of-way you guys are going to take,” the owner of a tire store fretted.
“Jack, I believe it would be just enough to do the sidewalks on the corner,” Mayor Matt Walsh informed him in a low, gravelly tone.
This upset the tire man even more. “They wanna come 25-foot into my parking lot to put the signs, street lights…I cannot afford to lose that kind of parking!”
“I don’t believe we’re talking about 25 feet into your parking lot–” the mayor tried to reassure him.
“I just cannot afford to lose any more parking,” repeated the man.
The mayor nodded, unmoved. “Perfectly understandable.”
“I’m not trying to be the bad guy. But I cannot afford to lose any more parking.”
I think he’s got it.
Mayor Walsh hunched over and calculated how to end the interaction. “I can’t answer you with any specificity tonight. I can get your phone number out of the phone book.”
The man thanked him, adding, “I cannot afford to lose any more parking.”
Councilmember Nate Watson flattened out his notes and mused about the dilemma. “I think there are a lot of competing interests, though I’d remind all of us that any further alterations to the master plan may test the patience of the funder of such improvements.”
The Funder? Who is this mysterious and impatient funder-who-must-not-be-named? And if he gets angry, how many virgins must the city sacrifice to appease him?
“Prepare the goat’s blood, madam clerk.”
“It’s primarily geared to making sure there’s enough space on the corner so we can meet the Americans with Disabilities Act,” Watson explained.
Abruptly, the tire store owner moved toward the front and began arguing back from the gallery.
The mayor remained placid. “It’s NOT authorizing them to take your property,” he said firmly. The man continued to protest.
Councilmember Watson nodded sympathetically. However, his sympathy was seemingly at its breaking point. “Your opinion matters a great deal, but it’s not the only one,” he replied gently.
The council moved on to talking about a parking garage. But Councilmember Al Ringgenberg ringgen-berated the whole concept.
“I question whether this is in the best interest of the city,” he frowned. “Not long ago we were provided documents and included is $2 million for [a] parking ramp down payment.”
He appeared deeply frustrated. “What I have a problem with is using general obligation funds that should be used to repair crumbling streets and sewers.”
Ah, yes. I see the design flaw.
Mayor Walsh grew visibly irritated, raising his voice. “So this is an ongoing diatribe of false statements–”
“Mr. Mayor, point of order!” Ringgenberg interjected in surprise.
“It’s my turn to talk, Mr. Ringgenberg,” the mayor thundered. “It’s my turn to talk!”
“First of all, the $2 million was NOT general obligation money. Second of all, we are the SECOND LOWEST city in Iowa with debt!”
Council members looked uneasily around the dais after the mayor concluded his angry rebuke.
Watson stared out to the audience. “There are a good number of young men here today for their communications merit badge.”
His face was expressionless as he added, “that’s what makes our country great. Stay involved.”
Final thoughts: I can’t imagine what kind of communications lessons were learned here, but 10 out of 10 stars to The Funder, if He’s watching. (He always is.)
Any regular announcements at the top of Salem’s city council meeting were “eclipsed” (MAJOR PUN ALERT) by a single event.
“I want to say to the staff that you did a fantastic job with the eclipse,” Councilor Tom Andersen crossed his arms and beamed. “I pushed back a little bit several months ago–and I see the city manager is nodding his head!–about what should have been done. This may be the first time I ever say this, but he was right and I was wrong!”
There were guffaws from the gallery. That noise was quickly replaced by Councilor Sally Cook signaling for the mayor’s attention.
“I just wanted to ask everybody a quick question: do you know your blood type?”
Asking for a friend
Sporting a gigantic “I Made A Difference” sticker, she put in a gigantic plug for getting one’s blood drawn.
“I donated today. I had my first ‘Power Red’ donation. Very exciting. Very strange,” she mused. Noticing raised eyebrows, Councilor Cook added, “it means my blood is SO special, I get extra credit.”
Other councilors groaned, causing Cook to grin innocently. “It means they take your platelets and also the plasma. And that has a longer shelf life. I just encourage you to visit your friendly vampire.”
While this doesn’t give me extra motivation to donate blood, it does make me wonder about the shelf life of my own platelets.
But there was no time to dwell on my hypothetical blood. At this point, a deeply distressed public commenter stepped forward to talk about actual bloodshed.
“Car had to be going 60-70 mph down Fisher Road,” the man held up a graphic photo of a car crash’s aftermath.
“Five days later, this young lady,” he shakily displayed a picture of his wife, “was hit getting her mail out of the mailbox and killed right there.”
😥
He lowered his gaze and continued in a gravelly voice. “Fisher Road just became a speedway. Something needs to be done. It’s just too bad my wife lost her life out there.”
Councilor Chris Hoy braced himself on the desk and looked the man in the eye. “I sat at your dining room table with you and your wife a few weeks before this horrible event. I have not forgotten that–and never will forget.”
It was an uneasy segue, but the council had no choice but to move on to what should have been a less emotional topic: amendments to the sign code.
Councilor Andersen leaned forward and frowned. “I’d like to make a substitute motion that we postpone deliberation on the sign code and have a work session.”
This touched off a nerve for Mayor Chuck Bennett, who lashed out without warning at the suggestion.
“I’ll tell ya: you knew you had two weeks. Not ONE PERSON followed up during the two weeks to talk with anyone about this,” he snapped at the stunned councilors. “I would hope you’ll ACTUALLY put your nose to the grindstone and do some work.”
“Your mother and I aren’t mad. We’re just disappointed.”
Councilor Cara Kaser bristled at the mayor’s insinuation of laziness. “The two weeks were punctuated by a celestial event that will never happen again in our lifetime,” she protested. “We’re volunteer councilors. We work 40 or more hours a week.”
“Yeah, I also work 40-hour-plus weeks,” retorted the mayor icily. “I don’t mean to be nannyish, but maybe this time folks will step up and do the work.”
Against the mayor’s scolding, the council voted to give themselves more time for their homework.
I talked to Carrie Tergin last year about her reputation for taking “selfies with the mayor.” But after this year’s International City Hall Selfie Day, I HAD to get her take on the 2017 artwork.
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Q: A couple of weeks ago it was International City Hall Selfie Day and I’d like us to critique some of the city council selfies that people sent in. Let’s start with your image. What’s going on there?
A: This is Cardboard Carrie decked out in the eclipse glasses. Councilman [Rick] Mihalevich, who had to run the meeting in my absence, really got a workout and took several pictures. I’m very impressed with Rick and his form.
Q: Of the top 10 city council selfies, did you have a favorite one?
A: First of all, I loved every single one! This Columbia, South Carolina–the gentleman holding it up, he’s kind of got his mouth open. You can tell it might be his first selfie ever. It makes me think of maybe my dad if my dad were to take a selife! He really made an effort.
I would say my top choice was Madison, Wisconsin. It almost looks like Maurice Cheeks is standing in the center of the world. He has literally put Madison at the center of the world and that would be my top pick.
Q: Maurice Cheeks’s selfie also has excellent product placement–he’s holding a City Hall Selfie Day sticker! But Mayor, if you came into a council meeting and noticed a big stain on the floor and the police chief told you, “that is from our horse that we brought here after hours and he pooped on the floor,” what would your reaction be?
A: I think I may frown on that just a little bit! I mean, hats off to our police officers, our firefighters, and honestly, that includes our police dog, Darco. It includes Mr. Fuzzy Britches the horse. That’s something else I liked about [International City Hall Selfie Day]: when you recognize those who keep our city safe.
Q: Carrie, I heard an anecdote at one of your council meetings that Jefferson City stopped making public commenters give their address because people were getting fan mail from prisoners who were watching. Is that true?
A: [Laughs] A couple of reasons: one is safety. When you’re at a council meeting giving your address, we do stream our meetings live. So, “oh, guess what? So-and-so who lives at XYZ? They’re not home right now!” You don’t want something to happen. And two: we welcome people whether you’re inside city limits or not.
Q: I saw that a Thomas Jefferson reenactor stopped by one of your meetings! How often does he come in?
A: In Jefferson City, we do celebrate as often as possible. The thought was, let’s have a birthday celebration for Thomas Jefferson and why not invite him to a council meeting?
Q: Do you think the next City Hall Selfie Day, you’ll get a picture with Thomas Jefferson?
A: He kind of photobombs a lot of my selfies because he’s on the city seal behind where the mayor sits!
Follow Mayor Carrie Tergin on Twitter: @CarrieTergin
This week’s Warren city council meeting began with as much subtlety as a kick to the groin.
“Mr. President, I’d like if we could separate check #58071,” Mayor Pro Tem Kelly Colegio wagged her pencil in visible irritation. “I called and asked for the invoices for that item. I filled out a [Freedom of Information Act request]. And this council voted for the administration to give us specifications for the basin project.”
She frowned deeply. “I paid $332.50 out of my own pocket for a FOIA when the administration REFUSED to answer a council request on probably the largest project the city’s gonna do.”
Like a detective who’s spotted the inconsistency in a murderer’s testimony, Colegio shrugged nonchalantly as if to say, “I’ve got you, m–f’er.”
“The original contract amount was approved 3/8/17. The date of my FOIA was May. I’m not sure why THIS,” she brandished the smoking-gun invoice, “wasn’t in my FOIA that I paid $322.50 for.”
Exhibit A
She had now grown fully livid, slamming her papers down on the dais. “Mayor, I am disgusted by the lack of respect. When you were on council you would’ve screamed your head off about that.”
With one councilwoman having ripped into the mayor, it was only logical that two more councilmen rip into each other.
“The motion is on the floor,” President Cecil St. Pierre sharply cut off Councilman Keith Sadowski as he tried to make a motion of his own.
“But you can make several motions under Robert’s Rules,” Councilman Sadowski leaned back in his chair and protested. “I can make a motion to–what’s the problem?” he recoiled after St. Pierre shot him a dirty look.
“I’m just TELLING YOU,” St. Pierre retorted, “you can–”
“We never follow the rules up here anyway,” angrily snapped Councilman Sadowski.
“I’m trying to follow the rules!” roared President St. Pierre. “I don’t make the Robert’s Rules of Order–”
“You don’t follow them either,” Sadowski spat.
President St. Pierre reeled in disbelief. “Are we gonna argue back and forth?!”
The nine people watching in the audience remained silent.
Not a good night for Robert’s Rules
At this point, the council president turned to the city attorney to ask why Mayor Pro Tem Colegio’s request ($332.50, remember?) got the cold shoulder.
“There’s certain documents we were not releasing because the nature of the FOIA request–we didn’t have to,” pinstripe suit-clad attorney Nathan Vinson replied calmly and slowly. “I don’t know if she wants copies or what.”
“I was told,” the mayor pro tem rebutted, “there were other documents I couldn’t have pertaining to ‘attorney-client privilege.'”
President St. Pierre raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Vinson, do you know what she’s talking about?”
“No,” Vinson said curtly.
“The mistrust is THIS high.”
“Are those documents ready to be viewed tomorrow?” Council Secretary Robert Boccomino pressed. “The ones that were requested?”
“Yes, they’re still in Ms. Michaels’s office,” volunteered Vinson.
Councilman Sadowski swiveled and tried to suppress a grin as the lawyer’s words sunk in. “So wait…you said you DON’T know what documents they are. But you DO know what documents they are?”
“It’s my understanding,” Vinson defended himself and for the first time appeared flustered, “that there’s a group of documents marked ‘attorney-client privilege.’ Are you [Mayor Pro Tem Colegio] waiving attorney-client privilege?”
“She IS the client!” Councilman Scott Stevens blurted.
“No, she’s an individual who made a FOIA request!” the city attorney sputtered.
“She handed you the FOIA at this table!” yelled an incredulous Stevens.
Councilman Sadowski shook his head. “This is nonsense.”
Yep.
“I’m gonna give my opinion,” interjected bespectacled Councilman Ronald Papandrea. “I don’t think it’s worth fighting over. I really don’t.”
Well, he may not have been paying attention for the past half hour, but Papandrea certainly succeeded in getting everyone to chuckle. The council voted to force-release the documents.
City Council Chronicles 