Tag: government

#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

#53: Hot Springs, SD 9/19/16

If you thought that South Dakota city council meetings were polite, sleepy little powwows, you’re in for a Mount Rushmore-sized reality check.

Maybe it’s because Mercury is in retrograde, or perhaps because Mayor Cindy Donnell was taking the night off, but city administrator Nolan Schroeder was on the receiving end of some Hot Springs hot rage all night.

A burly man in a t-shirt bulldozed his way to the front of the stage where the aldermen–all but two of whom were technically alderwomen–sat vulnerable.

“Craig Romey,” he announced his presence. “When I was on the council–” Ahhh, a former alderman looking to share the wisdom of his years. How fortunate! Yes, my good man, you have something to say about drug testing of lifeguards?

“You guys aren’t doing it. Nobody is being drug tested are they?” he spoke haltingly, as if his CPU was buffering the words in his head. “I would classify it as life saving…lifeguard. And they’re not being drug tested. I’d like to know why…It’s the law.”

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“Did you miss me? Also, you’re breaking the law.”

The youthful city administrator drew in a breath. “That’s actually…not factual. [The law] mostly applies to first responders, EMT, firefighters, police.”

“You don’t think a lifeguard is lifesaving?” ex-Alderman Romey demanded.

“That’s not my call. We do follow the law.” Cool and collected until this point, Schroeder showed a hint of disdain for his inquisitor. “YOUR interpretation may be different than what’s required for us to do.”

But Romey admirably–and belligerently–insisted that HE was right. “I was going by what Sheriff Evans told myself–”

“We gave you our best answer, SIR,” snapped the city administrator abruptly.

The aldermen awkwardly averted their eyes. Romey took his seat. The unlucky job of seguing fell to Alderman Timothy Tescher. But there was one small problem.

“We have a small problem. We gather up brush all year long and we don’t have a chipper of our own. And we can’t burn it.” The other aldermen looked on blankly. “The way the air flows through that canyon, people down at the hospital get upset because their air exchangers are sucking our smoke into their hospital.”

He sighed. “We’re just about down to where we have to chip it.”

But a $16,000 wood-chipping extravaganza didn’t sit well with the tall glass of water in a short-sleeved shirt who stood to protest.

“I just can’t believe [the VA home] wouldn’t be interested in the pile if alls they gotta do is pay for the chipping,” he grumbled.

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The council meeting is right before the rehearsal of “King Lear.”

Alderman Tescher shook his head. “They can’t use them.”

“We CAN burn it, Tim,” insisted the man, escalating the situation like a brush fire in South Dakota. “It’s FACTUAL. We CAN burn it. That’s $16,000 you’re playing with!”

“It’s out of consideration to the neighbors we do not burn it,” Schroeder jumped in to remind the man, who apparently did not hear the part about hospitalized people inhaling smoke. “It’s a three-day process–”

“I KNOW how long it is, NOLAN,” he barked. “Take ’em out to the airport. Put ’em down in the pit. Then you could burn them. It wouldn’t bother anyone.”

The city administrator paused, wondering how to safely respond to someone who really, REALLY wants to set things on fire.

“It’s an interesting idea,” he said, completely uninterested.

#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.

Interview #13: Anchorage, AK Assembly Chair Elvi Gray-Jackson (with podcast)

Big news! For the first time, you can now listen to a City Council Chronicles interview in podcast form. Follow this link to City Council Chronicles on iTunes or click play:

It’s a very special interview, in which we travel way, way up to Anchorage and talk to the chair of the city’s assembly, Elvi Gray-Jackson. She told me about the betting pool she runs on the council and how she cold-calls audience members for the Pledge of Allegiance.

—

Q: How many people usually show up to the assembly meetings? And because this is Alaska, how many grizzly bears show up?

A: How many grizzly bears? You mean rude people?

Q: I didn’t know that was the euphemism. I was talking about actual grizzly bears. Either one.

A: Literal bears, no. On average we have an audience of about 100, maybe 120. For every meeting I’ll estimate what time I think we’re gonna end the meeting. There’s about six of us–when I get to the meeting tonight I’ll say, “okay, what’s your guess?” We have fun trying to guess what time the meeting’s going to end. And somebody wins.

Q: You run a betting pool for the meeting end times?

A: It’s just for fun.

Q: Who usually wins?

PA: I win a lot. Lately, some of my colleagues are getting pretty good at it. I like to make the meetings lively and fun. What I do different than what any other chair has done–usually after roll call we do the Pledge of Allegiance. And every other chair usually asks one of our colleagues to lead us. What I decided I was gonna do is, every meeting I’m going to arbitrarily pick somebody in the audience to come up to the podium and lead us. I like to engage the public.

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Anchorage, AK Assembly Chair Elvi Gray-Jackson

Q: It’s Alaska, so I’m assuming people are allowed to bring guns to the assembly meetings?

A: That’s an interesting question…yes. People are allowed to bring guns.

Q: So how many guns do you have on your person while chairing the meetings?

A: I don’t have a gun. I’m terrified of guns. Dick Traini, who’s my vice chair now, when he was chair, he had the dais area bullet-proofed. And I was thankful for that.

Q: Are there some council members who are thorns in your side?

A: I’m a dolphin. Dolphins could kill sharks. Dolphins always have a dolphin expression on their face and the sharks are constantly doing things to try and change that personality. But the dolphins just maintain it and the sharks finally calm down. In that respect, there are human sharks. I don’t let people push my buttons.

Q: …That’s an analogy I have never heard from anyone else before.

A: And I have a dolphin tattoo on my left shoulder.

Q: Last September you missed an assembly meeting because you were introducing Michelle Obama at the White House. Looking back, do you regret not being there to vote on the contract for the reservoir mixer phase II upgrades?

A: Absolutely no, I don’t regret not being there. I was representing Anchorage. I plan my entire life around my assembly meetings because I don’t want to miss them. We have the opportunity to do the assembly meetings by phone. I HATE doing assembly meetings by phone because you get elected and you need to do your job.

#51: Greer, SC 9/13/16

At the Greer city council meeting, did anyone raise a ruckus? Cause a concern? Threaten to secede?

Nope, nada,  none of it. This municipal powwow was so genteel as to be sleep-inducing. When you think “government meeting,” this was exactly the excitement level you’d imagine.

“An ordinance to provide for the annexation of property owned by Teresa Smith,” Mayor Rick Danner read from the dense agenda. His Honor, sporting a blue bow tie, glanced up to the zoning director–himself sporting a gray bow tie. (I’d bet anything that these two men had an a capella rehearsal after the meeting.)

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FINALLY, a touch of CLASS at a council meeting (I’m talking about the iPad).

“A year or so back, we were looking at about 300 single family attached units. Now, the 27 acres has been significantly reduced to 85 houses,” the director recited, flipping between the tablet in his hand and a sheaf of papers on the podium.

“By a show of hand,” the mayor raised his voice, “is the owner of the property with us this evening? Do you care to add anything?”

From somewhere in the audience came a holler: “He mentioned 85 single family. It’s actually 87.”

“Thank you,” the mayor nodded.

But wait, there’s more! More zoning! Seriously, it’s nothing but zoning. Normally, I’d fast-forward through this bad boy to get to the good stuff–liquor licenses, citizen complaints, wildlife problems.

Not today. There’s a land rush in Greer, apparently, and Ms. Medlock wants a piece of the zoning pie.

“Ms. Medlock is seeking to rezone to C2 to operate a used car lot on that property,” announced the zoning czar.

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This is a record for city council meeting bow ties.

The mayor repeated his catchphrase. “By a show of hand, is the owner of the property with us this evening? Would you like to add anything?”

Ms. Medlock called out no.

But the mayor wasn’t satisfied.

“The existing structure with the wall and the little office–will that remain?” he pondered.

“That for now is going to stay,” Ms. Medlock testified, reluctantly planting herself behind the podium. “The shed is nice for them to be able to pull cars into to work on in the shade.”

“Let me go back to Glenn for a second,” said the mayor as council members silently contemplated what time they would be free to leave. “Storage of vehicles and cars or whatever? That’s a grassy lawn there.”

Glenn, the zoner: “No vehicles parked on a residential zoned property. They can’t just cover the grass area back there with automobiles,” he assured the mayor.

Ms. Medlock decided to give Mayor Danner r a taste of his own medicine. “I have one question,” she sprung on him. “The tenant has already got a sign to fit on the post with anticipation that this is gonna be approved–”

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Truly an astounding  number of bow ties.

The mayor let out a gentle laugh. Uh-oh. Is His Honor going to torpedo the rezone and leave that poor sign post flapping in the breeze?

“–does he need to bring that to you?”

There was a moment of silent reflection.

“Needs to go through the permitting process,” was the answer.

Final thoughts: As far as council meetings go, I give this 3 out of 10. As far as bow ties go…I give it a perfect score.

#50: Stillwater, OK 9/12/16

It wasn’t your typical day at the Stillwater city council.

The big boss–Mayor Gina Noble–was away, which meant everyone could loosen their ties, let their guards down, and be a little naughtier than usual.

No one was more determined to have a good time than Vice Mayor Pat Darlington, who, as the substitute teacher for the day, brought a surprise for the class.

“We are so excited to have Eliza Neal,” to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. “She is…I’ll let her tell you later. But she is going to lead us.”

What a teaser! What could she possibly be that the vice mayor isn’t telling us? A vampire? A Belieber? In fact, we’d have to play one of Darlington’s twisted games to find out.

“May I ask you a few questions?” the vice mayor kindly gazed upon the bespectacled child. “Eliza, what year are you in school?”

“Umm…” Eliza said, clearly pondering this hardball question. “Fifth.”

The vice mayor feigned surprise. “Fifth grade?! I was gonna say high school.” The room chortled at this witty banter. “What is the favorite book you had this summer?”

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Eliza is going on “Charlie Rose” after this.

“It’s actually a series,” Eliza responded cautiously. “It’s called Warriors.”

“Warriors.” Darlington narrowed her eyes. “Is that violent?”

Once again, the room erupted in laughter, including Eliza.

“Unless you say cats fighting…yes,” Eliza conceded with a giggle.

The vice mayor straightened her back. “Well, I might just have to read that in the daytime, not the night.” This was quite the comedic routine, and the audience was eating it up. Now that the duo had loosened things up, Darlington had a final question.

“I think that she has a riddle for us. Do you have a riddle for us?”

“Yeah,” Eliza remembered. “Where do you park a camel?”

“Is that specific to the city of Stillwater or just in general?” the vice mayor deadpanned to further cackles.

Eliza gave away the punchline. “In Camelot!”

“Oooohhhh, that’s a good one,” Darlington remarked dryly. At this point, the crowd was definitely open to having Eliza and the vice mayor do some sort of “Who’s On First” slapstick routine. But the first rule of showbiz is “always leave them wanting more.” So Eliza took a bow and the council got back to the lesson plan.

It turns out, there are other fun things in Stillwater besides the city council meetings–and the visitor’s bureau chief eagerly rattled them off in a PowerPoint presentation: the Wrestling Hall of Fame and Museum, Mid-Continent Kennel Show, and the All Aboard Polar Express train.

“You may not know that we’ve secured reindeer that will be in town” for the Polar Express, she bragged. Which would mean “a majority of people being around a reindeer for the first time in their lives.”

But rumors of the reindeer had been swirling around the Stillwater airwaves.

“I can’t remember who was talking about the reindeer,” Councilor Miguel Najera pondered, before a stroke of realization. “It was Kylie! ‘Cause she said ‘live reindeer’ and Steve [Daniels of ‘The Morning Scramble’ 105.1 FM] said, is it gonna be ‘dead reindeer’?!”

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Councilor Najera wants to make it rein.

The head of the visitor’s bureau smiled knowingly. “We’ve been saying that because eight out of 10 people think they’re mystical creatures. They don’t know that they’re real!”

“They are,” murmured city manager Norman McNickle. “They can fly.”

#49: Blue Springs, MO 9/7/16

There are two truly wonderful experiences in life: holding your newborn child for the first time and watching a city council meeting’s intro video.

No offense to my three–or is it four?–children, but after viewing this patriotic opener, I was crying so hard that I would have gladly let Blue Springs Mayor Carson Ross lead me into battle against any other city council:

His Honor moved swiftly through the People’s Business. “We have a public hearing on the 2016-2017 budget,” he read, glancing up to deliver his own saucy editorial. “I might add that the city of Blue Springs– unlike the FEDERAL government–we operate on a BALANCED budget. We don’t have a money printing machine.”

Kapow! Sucker punch right in the Congress! Although he’s awfully quick to deny having a money printing machine considering no one brought it up….

“That being said, we’ll go to the public. Is there anyone in the audience who would like to speak in support OF the budget? In support OF?” No one stood UP. Stood UP.

“In opposition TO? In opposition TO? We’ll close this public hearing.”

Mayor Ross lowered his head and gazed steely-eyed around the dais. “That brings to mayoral announcements. I will continue to talk about being sick and tired of all the murders that are taking place. ESPECIALLY with children being killed.”

The room was silent.

“The the nonsense of [driving while] intoxicated is just like taking a gun and shooting somebody because you’re dealing with something much worse. A vehicle that weighs thousands of pounds and you have no control over it! And the innocent people, that they end up dying. Especially with children. So those are the announcements.”

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You better be stone-cold sober driving through Blue Springs.

Wow, I don’t know which is tougher: following this announcement or the fact that this is the first anti-drunk driving PSA I’ve seen in 49 city council meetings.

Luckily, His Honor took it upon himself to lighten the mood. “Now, Thoughts to Ponder.”

He leaned back and twirled his note card.

“Thoughts to Ponder tonight comes from a voicemail on my phone yesterday. It was kind of a confession, of sort. He said over the last 50 years, he’s had a problem with 80-year-old drivers…or their lack of being able to drive well.” Every eye was on the mayor, wondering what kind of ageist tirade was in store.

“But in March, HE turned 80, and his whole attitude changed about those ‘terrible’ 80-year-old drivers. They’re not such bad drivers after all. It’s really interesting when we have opinions about things or people until the shoe is on YOUR foot. Then we have a tendency to change our attitudes about it.”

By now, everyone in the room was smiling. Including me–I never thought I’d find so much wisdom in Western Missouri, of all places.

“That concludes our Thoughts to Ponder.”

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A happy city council? What strange place is this?!

Final thoughts: “Thoughts to Ponder” is my new favorite city council segment. Granted, the bar was super low to begin with, but I think the world would be a lot better if more mayors interpreted their voicemail on camera.

#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.