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.
I am stoked to report that City Council Chronicles has partnered with the makers of Pokémon Go to create a fun new game: City Cóuncil Go!
Here’s how to play:
1. Search for city council members.
Walk around the perimeter of your city hall until you spot a city council member. Usually they are dressed nicely, carrying a latte in one hand and a folder of important documents in the other. When in doubt, consult a City Cóuncildex.
2. Capture the city council member.
(Sold separately)
3. Make them fight each other.
They may not want to do it at first, but with a little training and the right amount of food deprivation, those city council members will be dueling in no time.
4. Have them get interviewed by City Council Chronicles.
She told me the scoop on Rob Ford, council drama, and her fantasy hockey team.
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Q: How many people usually show up to watch? And follow-up question: how many moose usually show up?
A: It’s been a while since we’ve had a moose. In terms of how many “municipal nerds” are there–
Q: Your phrase, not mine.
A: We have a lot of bloggers–the councilors call them Twitterati. There’s about a dozen of them. If we’re doing something with taxis or Uber, there’s 500-600 people in there. The lowest it ever gets is around 50-70 people.
Q: You are the deputy speaker. I saw what the speaker does and it looks exhausting. What does the deputy speaker do?
A: In my case the deputy speaker doesn’t do a whole heck of a lot.
Q: Nice!
A: The speaker you saw is very, very possessive about being in that chair. She had a rough time during the Rob Ford years. She asked to be speaker again under a new mayor and it was a tough vote. She almost didn’t make it. She is doing a pretty good job with a pretty crazy council. But I’m lucky if I get to be in the chair ten minutes a day.
Toronto, ON Councilor Shelley Carroll
Q: Oh boy, you mentioned He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Obviously the Rob Ford scandal was a tough time for everyone–except late night comedians. After the crack-smoking news got out, were council meetings more hostile?
A: Definitely. Oftentimes he wan’t the most hostile force in the room. His brother was.
Q: When the council was debating what to do with Rob Ford, one reporter tweeted this:
For those tuning in to council for first time, this petty bickering is typical
A: Yeah. By the time we were taking his powers away, it was petty on all sides. I’ve been in office since 2003. That two weeks leading up to taking Rob’s powers away were the most “together” council has ever been. He was just completely humiliating us. That was right after he said the horrible thing about his wife to the media.
A: I spent a lot of time on Twitter inoculating myself from their bullying. “Don’t mess with me or I’ll tweet it!”
Q: Are there any councilors you do not like? You don’t have to name–
A: Giorgio Mammoliti.
Q: Noted. Now, suppose the Montreal city council challenged you to a game of hockey. Which five Toronto city councilors would you pick for your team?
A: Oddly, I probably would take Giorgio Mammoliti. He would throw them for a loop the whole time.
We’d probably match them wit for wit, so we’d have to take Gord Perks.
I would take Janet Davis. Councilor Davis is obsessed with reading every word of every report. She would read about a year’s worth of every agenda in the Montreal council. She would lay waste to them.
We’d take Josh Matlow because he’s a part-time Montrealer and he would beat them on their own level.
My one more pick, I would take Joe Cressy. He’s just the youngest and most nimble person on council. So he would whip their ass athletically.
Q: I’m a bit surprised that a Canadian just said “ass,” but I’ll let it slide.
Follow Councilor Shelley Carroll on Twitter: @shelleycarroll
Oh, baby! It’s Canada Week here at the Chronicles! I hope you packed a passport and your curling uniform, because we’re off to the Toronto city council meeting.
Meeting? Sorry. I meant “endurance test.”
These hardy Maple Leafers hunkered down for T-E-N H-O-U-R-S. And as it turns out, ten hours in Canada converts to ten AMERICAN hours as well. Lucky me.
Speaking of America, Mayor John Tory began by saying goodbye to Toronto’s Philadelphia-bound transportation manager–and good luck. “If there are any circumstances which TRUMP your desire to return home, you’ll always be most welcome here,” he remarked dryly as the room erupted in laughter.
Oh, yeah? Well…who’s your president? A moose? Ha, burned.
Next came the excruciating process of figuring out a.) who wanted b.) to say what c.) and when on the city budget. (Hint: every. body. wanted. to. talk.)
“On page 10,” Councilor Michael Thompson politely requested, “I’m just wondering, is it possible to have this Thursday morning as a first item–”
Loud grumbles rolled in from councilors who had Thursday morning in their crosshairs.
“There’s also a desire to hold the supervised injection [debate] at that time!” Councilor Joe Mihevc protested.
Council Speaker Frances Nunziata raised a hand. “I’m sorry but Councilor Thompson had his name before yours,” she curtly shut him down. It’s a reminder of that old saying: “the early bird gets the sweet Thursday morning discussion slot.”
It was a minor tiff–but by hour 2.5, tempers really flared.
During routine questioning of the city manager, Councilor James Pasternak casually inquired about sloppy staff recommendations: “What strategies do you have to make sure that shenanigans stops?”
As the city manager defended himself, Councilor Gord Perks perked up.
“Councilor Pasternak just described city staff’s budget process as ‘shenanigans,'” the wavy-haired man complained. “I ask that he withdraw that.”
“Madam Speaker, Councilor Perks has twisted my words!” protested Pasternak.
The speaker was on his side. “Continue,” she ordered Pasternak. Then she froze. “Councilor Perks is challenging my ruling.” One off-mic councilor hollered what sounded like a profanity. This is amazing–I’m already googling “how to move to Canada.”
You challenge a Canadian speaker by hip-checking her on the ice rink.
A high-pitched chime pulsed in the chamber–like a creepy kid’s toy–signaling that councilors had to vote on whether to back their fearless leader.
Final tally: 23-9. The speaker wins.
After break to eat lunch and walk off the crankiness, councilors returned to a familiar dilemma: cut services or raise taxes?
“There’s a number of things we do as a city that we don’t have to be doing,” Councilor Giorgio Mammoliti grumbled. “We don’t have to be in the childcare business! Why the hell aren’t we talking about this stuff?!”
Another councilor–ever polite–corrected him. “Heck.”
Mammoliti scowled. “Hell.”
Others are visibly shocked by Councilor Mammoliti’s language.
It was the bottom of the ninth (hour). The humans were tired but, oddly enough, the machines were even tireder.
As Councilor Thompson spoke, several loud booms rocked the sound system.
Then…dead mic.
“Yeah, I don’t know what’s going on,” the speaker shrugged, not entirely upset at this gentle suggestion by Fate.
“Shut ‘er down!” shouted Councilor Shelley Carroll, chomping to get out of Dodge.
Unluckily for her, the mics rebooted, letting Councilor Thompson inch the meeting across the ten-hour line. Ugh, I’m getting too old for this sh…enanigans.
Final thoughts: Stay tuned! There’s more Canada Coverage on Wednesday and Friday!
After watching the Portland city council meeting, I, like many of you, was confused. Hungry. Thirsty. So after I ordered a pizza and poured a glass of Merlot, I called up local Commissioner Amanda Fritz to get the Bridgetown scoop.
We talked about public commenters, regret, and looking good for the cameras.
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Q: Despite your thick Portland accent, you grew up somewhere else, right?
A: I was born and raised in England.
Q: Have you ever seen council city meetings over there?
A: No, I’ve watched Parliament but not city councils.
Q: Is Parliament similar to the Portland city council?
A: Not really. There’s no citizen testimony–it’s just all politicians pontificating.
Q: Let’s pretend it’s one hour before the council meeting. What are you doing to get in the zone?
A: We get the agenda the week before. So Friday afternoon and Monday and Tuesday my staff are looking at every single issue that’s going to be coming up. When I get to work at about nine on Wednesday, most of the time I’m just remembering to put my no-shine powder on because of the HDTV, getting my tea, getting breakfast.
Q: Portland’s meetings can be brutal. How do you stay focused?
A: For me, it’s not hard because you’ve got dozens of eyes watching you either in the audience or on television. It’s really important that you recognize you’re onstage. Being onstage constantly for three or four hours knowing that thousands of people may be watching at home is exhausting.
Q: I never thought about it that way! Do you have any training as a stage actor?
A: [Laughs] Only what I did in high school.
Portland, OR Commissioner Amanda Fritz
Q: Say I’m coming in to testify for three minutes. What do I need to do to impress you?
A: What you should’ve done is send in your comments beforehand.
Q: So…don’t come in? That’s your advice?
A: No, do both! There are very few people who could persuade you in three minutes to completely change your mind. Then it’s basically the rules of advertising: tell them, tell them what you told them, and tell them again. And then get other people to testify.
Q: Is there anything you’ve regretted saying during a city council meeting that has stuck with you?
A: I always go home thinking, “gosh, I should have said this instead of that.” Very rarely do you believe that you’ve completely nailed a speech or a performance. So there’s always that “I could have done this better.”
Q: Portland’s HDTV is really amazing. Were you nervous at first that you would have to spend more time in hair and makeup?
A: Well, my hair doesn’t behave anyway, but it was Laural Porter–who is a TV reporter–it was she who festooned me with powder and explained about the “HD shine.” Ever since then, I’ve been dutifully putting my HD powder on before meetings. I’ve noticed that I don’t shine and the boys do. Either nobody’s told them about the powder or else they think it’s not a manly thing to do.
Q: Have you ever nudged one of them and whispered, “Commissioner, you’re shining right now.”
A: We had a commissioner who had a very bald head which would shine rampantly. I may have mentioned it to him but I don’t think he ever took me up on it.
Follow Commissioner Amanda Fritz on Twitter: @AmandaFritzRN
A few weeks ago I chronicled the London, Ohio city council meeting. To refresh your memory, it was a real humdinger, with the mayor’s “fun fact” being that he lit a barrel on fire downtown. You know–the People’s Business.
Well, a little Buckeye Birdie told me that London City Hall took notice.
Sure enough, during last week’s city council meeting, His Honor the mayor had a few choice words for the Chronicles:
Mayor: Now on to the mayor fun fact. Some of you already know we’re starting to get some national attention. There’s a man out there by the name of Michael Karlik who has a hobby of reviewing city council meetings from all over the United States…everybody has their own hobbies, I guess.
[Collective sigh from council members. One councilwoman lays her head on the desk.]
Hobby? I think you meant “public service,” sir.
Mayor: I’m not sure how he stumbled upon ours, but he did. And he wrote about us and tagged me on Facebook and Twitter. And it was about our June 16 meeting. Most of the focus was on my mayor fun fact last month, which I talked about lighting a barrel on fire in downtown London for the movie. So I thought I would pay him the ultimate compliment by making him my mayor fun fact for this meeting.
I am genuinely honored, Your Honor! I’m sure the flaming barrel feels the same way!
Mayor: The writing was actually very witty and well done, I thought. I got a good laugh out of it and it was pretty interesting, so if you guys want to go back and look at it, most of you guys were mentioned in the article. It’s under councilchronicles.com. So you guys can check that out. I just thought it was pretty funny.
Is anyone else crying because they have something in their eye?
I am deeply grateful to the mayor for his shout-out at the city council meeting. So much so that I am officially naming London, Ohio as a “Friend of the Chronicles.” With that status, of course, comes the right of prima nocta over all other city councils, plus this trophy.
Readers, if you ever find yourselves passing through London, remember to stop and give the mayor a pat on the back and a smooch on the cheek. Then gently whisper in his ear, “You’ve been chronicled!”
I once passed through Galesburg on a train and thought, “Well, well, well: THIS place seems like they’d have some funky city council meetings!”
Like usual, I was right. I talked to the grand poobah of G-Burg, Marty Hobe, who reports on the city council for The Register-Mail. He told me about costumed performers, the Burgnado, and Galesburg’s survivalist mayor.
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Q: How many people show up to city council meetings?
A: You can get quite a few people. We had the local humane society looking for its annual grant from the city. Every year, they flood the chambers with people who talk about cute little puppies they save.
Q: Do they bring in puppies?
A: No, they’ve never brought in a puppy!
Q: Hmm.
A: Once–so, a historical figure from Galesburg was Mother Bickerdyke. She was a nurse in the Civil War. We built an overpass recently and the city council was deciding what they should name it. Our mayor said we should just call it the Seminary-Kellogg Street Bridge because it’s Seminary and Kellogg Streets it physically goes over. But someone dressed up in historically accurate garb as Mother Bickerdyke and addressed the council as Mother Bickerdyke, asking them to name the bridge after her. It was quite the performance!
Q: So…did she sway the votes?
A: Oh, yeah. It’s called the Bickerdyke Bridge today.
Q: Wow!
Galesburg, IL city council reporter Marty Hobe
Q: Other than the ghost of Mother Bickerdyke, does anyone do public comment?
A: Not really. We have people who are frequently in the audience, but they won’t sit up to speak.
Q: Weird. What’s their deal?
A: I don’t know if they’re just dedicated civilians or–I know there was one woman who would come to meeting after meeting. Turns out she wanted to run for one of the open alderman seats, and she ended up winning.
Q: I heard things went sideways when they voted on the city manager’s raise. A 4-3 vote, right?
A: That was a bit of an awkward day, anytime you’re dealing with salaries. We’re not dealing with celebrity-type politicians. These are still real people.
Q: Marty, what is the Burgnado?
A: It’s a tornado drill. The city council sits in and the Knox County emergency response team, they role-play. It was a kind of a walk-through of what would happen should an F4 tornado come through and decimate Galesburg.
Q: What’s the city council supposed to do?
A: Mostly informing the public…one of the messages was just basically, “take the information back to your constituents and stay out of our way.”
Q: If you had to be stranded on a desert island with one of the city council members, who would you choose?
A: Oh, I have to play favorites?
Q: You absolutely have to play favorites.
A: Probably our mayor, John Pritchard. He’s a pretty funny guy. He likes to joke around a lot.
Q: Ah, so he’d be good company on an island.
A: Exactly. He wouldn’t be boring.
Q: Did he knock it out of the park during the Burgnado drill?
A: I think so. He’s got a lot of survival instincts in him.
Q: Do you think he could spear a fish in the water and cook it on a makeshift fire?
A: I don’t know how quick he is with a spear. I’d have to see that first.
If you get your jollies from talk of storm water fees or filling potholes, take your filthy mind far away from Aspen. In this luxurious ski hamlet, the city council had only the highest, most sophisticated affairs of state to discuss.
“We have a relatively light schedule tonight–and a relatively light council,” Mayor Steve Skadron waved his hands toward the two lone council members seated to his side.
“[Council members] Adam [Frisch] and Art [Daily] are traveling,” chuckled the mayor, who was sporting the most fashionable head of hair this side of Fabio. Like a true Aspenite, “Adam is golfing in Scotland!”
But this city isn’t all golf junketing and Eurotripping. They also had a very unpopular parking rate increase. Tell ’em how unpopular it was, mayor:
“One of the things we’ve done is used revenue from the parking increase to pay for–” GOLDEN TOILETS IN THE COUNCIL CHAMBERS?!?! –“the Downtowner, which are the electric cars that are driving around.”
Christ, what kind of utopia is this? You, there–shorts-clad citizen waiting to address the council! Surely you must have a complaint about how this city is going to hell in a ski lift!
“I’ve used the Downtowner. It’s a great service,” bragged the bespectacled man. “My dogs really appreciate it.”
Mayor Skadron pumped his fist. “Thank you for being such a cool local!”
With hair like that, Mayor Steve Skadron is THE arbiter of cool.
Finally, midway through the meeting, there was some drama in paradise. A group of developers was seeking to add on to the Little Nell Hotel–and all three council members had to give the thumbs up. No abstentions. No nays.
All. Three.
“What we’ve tried to do is move away from a straight up solarium and create something that is more in line with the original architecture,” a cheerful young presenter explained.
The mayor swiveled to his right. “Ann, what do you think?”
“Well,” chuckled Council Member (and the local landscape architect) Ann Mullins, “it’s always difficult to add onto a building and have it blend in. This is an improvement over what you showed us originally–”
Would she? Wouldn’t she?!
“–but I don’t think it’s there yet….The amount of fenestration and especially the skylights, the glass ceiling, makes the addition somewhat cheap.”
There was a silence, presumably so people could look up the definition of “fenestration.”
Barf! You call that a solarium?! My dog has pooped better solaria than that!
“Since there are three of us and it has to be unanimous, you get to have what you asked for,” Council Member Bert Myrin smiled nervously. “It’s okay. I’m comfortable with that.” He sounded anything but comfortable.
Turning to the lone objector, he sighed. “It’s entirely up to you.”
The tension was as thick as a Rocky Mountain blizzard. The developers huddled, frantically searching for a way to appease the Ski Queen.
Finally, they offered that the ordinance could make their building “replicate existing ground floor or second floor window pattern.”
All eyes turned to Mullins.
Council Member Ann Mullins: the most powerful woman in the Rockies
“Okay,” she caved.
The vote was taken. Everyone was a yes. The developers were all smiles as the meeting graveled to a close.
Final thoughts: For driving a hard bargain, I give Council Member Ann Mullins 10 out of 10 Scottish golfing passes.
We are burning through Lebanons like beer cans on a bonfire. Our second stop on the whirlwind Lebanon tour is Indiana, where someone at city hall is a virtuoso with video graphics.
“First order of business will be the, uh, Pledge of Allegiance,” Mayor Matt Gentry announced, before being upstaged by a rippling animation of Old Glory.
I pledge allegiance to the–wait, what’s happening to the mayor? Oh, god! It’s coming for him! Run, your honor! The humanity! Oh, the human–there he is again! With liberty and justice for all.
It’s tough to follow a screen-wiping flag, but one hotshot developer in a blue button-up sure tried. “There is, was, and still is a demand for nicer rental housing in downtown Lebanon. We’re dealing with a lot of young professionals. That is the kind of lifestyle they’re looking for.”
Yes, I bet many young professionals yearn to move to Lebanon, Indiana for the famous [look up something to put here] and the legendary [don’t forget to write something].
Youthful Councilor Corey Kutz wanted to know how the monied classes were living in Lebanon’s rival city. “What did the amenities look like? I know they’re maybe fetching $1,000 [per apartment] in Zionsville, but are they getting a pool? Are they getting a gym?”
The developer waved off the Z-town envy. “We’re in ‘downtown.’ We’re not sitting out in a corn field,” he slammed Zionsville, which is a puny little burg known only for [find literally anything interesting]. “We’ve got a historic gymnasium. You can’t compete with that!”
Councilor Corey Kutz: “What about massage parlors with full release? Does Zionsville have those?”
But sadly, Lebanon has a dark, noisy underbelly.
“I am Lebanon resident,” a bearded public commenter addressed councilors. “Grew up here, very proud of our community. And the two things I always brag is: we’re very neighborly and we LOVE the Fourth of July. We celebrate like no other city in central Indiana.” Yeah, shove that up your tailpipe, Zionsville!
But when you love something too much, sometimes the relationship turns ugly. “Saturday night, I sat up until 11:45 listening to what sounded like cannon shots right outside my bedroom window.”
And did he take this lying down? F*ck no. “I started looking into the ordinances,” this proud Lebanoner announced. “I found one that was passed in 1875 and it specifically mentions fireworks. It says they’re only to be set off on four days: July 4, Christmas, January 1, and Presidents Day.”
Councilor Kutz was kutzcerned. “Indianapolis just updated theirs [ordinance]. We could use a revamp on that….I don’t think it’ll happen before the fourth though.”
“I’m not trying to be a party pooper,” the commenter protested.
The role of party pooper went instead to the police chief, who stepped up to the mic.
“If it was up to me, there’d be no bass speakers, no dogs, and no fireworks allowed in the city, period.” The room erupted in laughter, but the chief looked as serious as a funeral. “I’d ban everything. Make it all quiet.”
More like Chief Buzzkill
Final thoughts: If the chief has his way, maybe Lebanon will at last have a cool factoid to its name: the quietest city in central Indiana.
Seattle’s city council met at two o’clock in the afternoon–yet some council members in this java addicted burg were clearly in need of caffeination. Others, however, came out of the shoot ready to kick ass and read names.
In the latter category, Councilmember Sally Bagshaw hit a one-two punch on a tongue-twister proclamation: “I want to announce that June 20, 2016 is Facioscapulohumeral Muscular Dystrophy Awareness Day,” she said, not even slowing for the monster nine-syllable word.
“The core problem stems from genetic disturbance in the DUX4. DUX4 is a coding protein gene located in the D4/Z4 repeat array in the subtelomeric region of the chromosome 4q.” The brainy councilwoman peered smugly over her notes.
“I know all of you know what that means,” she winked. The room chuckled in bewilderment.
Council President Bruce Harrell had a less mind-numbing award to bestow. “We’re gonna honor the women’s golf team that has brought pride to this state and made national history–” he looked up and saw the University of Washington’s golf coach cradling a massive trophy.
“Wow. Look at that hardware.” The president remained as emotionless as an Easter Island statue, but he couldn’t stop staring at the golden prize…or calling it “hardware.” (“The hardware speaks for itself,” he murmured.)
Nice hardware! And the trophy ain’t bad either–zing!
The council heard public comment from Tyrone, dressed head to toe in silver and looking like a backup dancer in an ABBA music video. “We have did so many damaging thing to foreigner peoples in other lands. We have took land and stole land,” he read haltingly, perhaps unaware that the city council has tragically little jurisdiction over foreigner peoples.
“You’re not sharing the REAL wealth–” he shouted before something unusual happened: his mic was cut. Not because he said the wrong thing, but because he said too many things and his time was up. Some places talk a mean game about sticking to your time, but the Emerald City actually lays down the law. Kudos!
And the council needed all the time they could get, for some hefty ethics legislation was ready–yes, Councilmember Debora Juarez?
“Correct me if I’m wrong here…I didn’t vote in favor of this,” she confusedly announced.
“Well,” the president mused, “I think you’re wrong. Just kidding!” he teased as the other councilmembers snickered. “Did you attend committee?”
Councilmember Juarez thought for a second. “Yes, but I didn’t vote yes!”
“It’s sort of a moot issue,” President Harrell tried to soothe her. But it backfired.
“Why are you smiling like that, Bruce?!” she cried out.
Councilmember Lorena González jumped in to mediate this weird spat. “Luckily, this is all videotaped, so you can go back and look. My recollection, Councilmember Juarez, is that in the committee, all three voted in favor”–including you, was the subtext.
Bruce, why are you smiling? Bruce, why are you holding a knife? BRUCE?!
BONUS FEATURE:
I dug through vaults of microfiche to find out what actually happened. Here is the committee transcript:
Harrell: I’m ready to vote unless any of you have heartburn about it.
Juarez:
Harrell: All those in favor say aye.
Juarez: Aye.
Busted! Take a walk, Sister Mary Forgetful! YOU’VE BEEN CHRONICLED!
Councilmember Juarez voted aye, and to the left; aye, and to the left; aye, and to
Final thoughts: Be ye warned: lapses of memory shall not stand!
City Council Chronicles 