Tag: local

Interview #4: Minot, ND Alderman Miranda Schuler

Minot may be small, but its city council is a force to be reckoned with. I talked to Miranda Schuler, insurance agent by day and one of Minot’s 14 aldermen.

She told me about her idea to shrink the council, and how City Council Chronicles is actually making a difference in Minot!

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Q: You’ve got a plan to take the Minot city council from 14 members to eight. Who are you itching to get rid of?

A: Really…I think myself would be one of those people I would like to get rid of.

Q: Whoa! You’d draw yourself off of the council?!

A: I ran two years ago because I didn’t want to be one of those people who complains about something and doesn’t offer solutions. I have two young kids and I’m purchasing the business that I’m in, so I’m going to step back for a while.

Q: What are the other aldermen like?

A: One of the council members is pretty knowledgeable when it comes to construction. I would never pretend to know a lot of that stuff. We have an attorney on the council. Or, if has to do with something insurance related, a lot of people look to me.

Q: Mmhmm.

A: There are a couple that are better speakers. I am not a public speaker. It took me two years to be able to speak at council without feeling like I’m gonna start crying!

Q: At long city council meetings, how do you stay focused?

A: I’m kind of a geek. I’ve made my husband come to some meetings and he has a hard time staying awake. It takes a certain type of person who finds this stuff interesting. And you must be, too!

Q: I mean, when I’m watching at home, it’s slightly more…comfortable. You have to sit there in front of people.

A: You’re constantly on call. Last night I was getting Facebook messages at 11:45. They were quite upset. And they wanted to talk about it at midnight.

Miranda Schuler
Minot, ND Alderman Miranda Schuler

A: Interesting thing: when I originally started talking with you, I said, “Is there any way we can get some of these meetings published?” I could Facebook Live it, but it’s going to look goofy if I’m sitting at a council desk with my phone.

Q: Probably.

A: [We] actually recorded our meeting on Monday. It’s going on our website.

Q: Wait…the first EVER video-recorded council meeting was this Monday?

A: It’s already online. It’s a result of my talk with you via e-mail. So good job!

Q: Whoa! Good teamwork!

A: You can’t see me because I’m out of the shot.

Q: Oh, well, that barely seems worth it. I was going to ask you to describe the council chambers, but I guess I can watch the video now.

A: I would describe it as an early 1990s council chambers.

Q: Gotcha. Lots of pictures of the Backstreet Boys on the walls.

A: Yeah. Backstreet Boys are there. (Just kidding!)

Q: Who would win in a foosball tournament: the Minot city council or the Williston city council?

A: I’m pretty sure we would because I grew up with a foosball table in my house. I would come in handy.

Q: You think you’d carry the Minot city council?

A: Yeah. It really needs to be stated whether you could spin them. Because I’m not a spinner.

#26: San Francisco, CA 6/7/16

San Francisco is a beautiful city of beautiful people–with an oddly sterile name for its city council: the “Board of Supervisors.”

What’s even more unwieldy is that the supervisors don’t even sit together! Five of them are at one desk and five of them are at the other, facing off middle school dance-style. The board’s president is perched high above the riff-raff, making for one difficult game of duck-duck-goose in the chambers.

The supes wasted no time in living up to the militantly-liberal stereotype of the City by the Bay.

“Today, I am submitting a carbon tax on nonrenewable energy that will support the maintenance and expansion of San Francisco’s urban forest,” Supervisor John Avalos announced–a blue recycling bin fittingly stationed behind him.

“I am introducing a ballot measure to expand democracy for immigrant parents by allowing non-citizens the right to vote in school board elections,” boasted Eric Mar. He had been adorned earlier with a puffy lei, which seemed on the verge of tipping over the slender supervisor.

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The City by the Lei

It was time for San Fran’s famously freewheeling public comment period. Anyone could take two minutes to speak “on items within the subject matter jurisdiction of the Board,” the clerk warned.

That quickly went out the window as the first man stepped up, speaking slowly in Arabic. I only understood two words: “Mohammad Ali.” (I’m guessing the supes won’t be able to do much about that one.)

My heart grew two sizes upon seeing the next speaker, who wore a t-shirt reading “IN DUE TIME, CHRIST DIED FOR THE UNHOLY.” Something tells me the Board of Supervisors won’t have jurisdiction over what he has to say, either.

“I got on the Alex Jones Show and was able to make the announcement that the times of the gentiles has ended. As a matter of fact, May 20 was exactly 7,365 days from the end of the times of the gentiles. Jesus Christ is coming soon.”

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If Jesus is coming soon, I wonder if He’ll sign up for public comment.

A woman in a suit stepped up. “I want to speak to item number 49. We urge you instead to support the governor’s proposal. This is a statewide bill and it has statewide benefits.”  Oops! Someone with a legitimate comment was allowed to slip through. How embarrassing!

Thankfully, she was the only one.

“Thank you [Board] President Breed and all the members of the cabal,” sneered a guy with a Dostoyevsky-length novel written in tiny words on his t-shirt.

In sharp contrast was a Samuel Jackson lookalike in sunglasses who swaggered to the podium, recording himself with his phone. “Good evening, supervisors…particularly my sisters in the back there,” he hollered out to Supervisors Malia Cohen and London Breed.

“My name is Ace. And I’m on a case. I’m putting the city on notice, specifically our African American, black sisters,” he gestured toward the likely-uncomfortable female supes. “I been in politics back when y’all was little girls. But now you’re women! I’m proud of you!”

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Can I follow you on Vine, dude?

The buzzer sounded, but he continued talking as he backed out of the room, videotaping himself the whole way.

“Next speaker, please,” the clerk sighed over the noise.

Final thoughts: With a city council meeting that was as eclectic as its residents, I give San Francisco 1 giant puffy lei.

#24: Newport, TN 6/2/16

If your underbritches feel bunched, y’all are in good company. At the Newport city council meeting, the People’s Business was as sticky as maple syrup on flypaper.

“I wanna bring everybody up to speed on the situation with the animal shelter,” city administrator James Finchum announced from somewhere behind his extensive mustache.  “They promised they would get us our money. As of today, we’ve received $10,000.”

The bad news: “They still owe us about $60,000.” All right, fellers: time to shake down them dogs and cats! Milk bones and kitty litter gotta be worth something!

“Nobody at the city wants to close that animal shelter,” kindly old Vice Mayor Mike Proffitt warbled. “That’s the furthest thing from our mind.”

One councilman murmured, “Don’t they have some $90,000 in repairs?”

“I’ve never heard that figure,” Finchum recoiled, no doubt contemplating all the gold-plated food dishes 90 grand could buy. “The roof definitely needs repairs.”

At this point, a man in a lime-green Polo stood up–apparently Newport’s roof guru. “When the heat rises and it hits the tin [roof], it causes the metal to sweat and it rains in your attic. Then it ends up in the electrical lights.” Some tar paper would fix the problem, he added. (Again, am I the only one who sees the value of super absorbent kitty litter?!)

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“The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout. Down came the rain-“

Speaking of snafus, the city attorney had some unwelcome news about 318 White Oak Avenue. There were no other bidding parties at the tax sale.” He tossed up his arms. “Consequently, YOU have ended up with the property.”

Vice Mayor Proffitt immediately complained. “Everything I’ve heard from everybody says, ‘get rid of this! If you get anything, beats nothing, ’cause you’re gonna be holding onto it.'”

Taking the advice of the man with “profit” in his name, the council voted to sell.

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“Get off my lawn!” -this man, to the taxpayers

During citizen comment, Carla had some things to say for the good of the city: “We are hosting a motorcycle fundraiser that will start at the Tanner Building. We’re calling it ‘Kickstands Up for Preservation’,” she announced.

“Maurice, I’ll borrow your motorcycle!” the mayor ribbed the police chief.

Second: “I had asked the council about supporting my transportation program,” Carla gently backed into her sales pitch. “I am still looking for funds for that program other places…but if you could help in any way, I’d appreciate it.”

“How much are you needing for that?” one alderman inquired.

$2,500, she deadpanned.

There was a pause. Vice Mayor Proffitt let her down gently. “I know it’s frustrating to you, but I appreciate what you’re trying to do.” Oh, well. Maybe once the animal shelter pays them back, Carla.

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Carla: “Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?”

Speaking of appreciation, the vice mayor had another uniquely Newportian thank-you to dole out. “Lisa, I’d like to thank you for being up there the other night when the folks [were] gettin’ dog-bit,” he drawled. “And the neighbors tell you ‘they won’t bite you’…and blood’s running down both legs. But I appreciate you being up there at the time to defuse that situation.”

Woof! Methinks they need to get that animal shelter squared away, stat!

Final thoughts: If you ever watch a Tennessee city council meeting, be sure you have a translator. Their accent is thicker than gravy on a biscuit. I give this meeting 7 out of 10 vicious dog bites.

Interview #3: Fort Wayne, IN Reporter Dave Gong

After last week’s Fort Wayne city council meeting, I had some questions. And who better to ask than the lucky S.O.B. who gets to watch EVERY Fort Wayne city council meeting: Journal Gazette reporter (and high school friend of mine) Dave Gong.

He talked to me about surprises, being fair, and his reaction to a salty-mouthed councilman.

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Q: On a scale of “fun” to “extremely fun,” how would you describe the council meetings?

A: Extremely fun…they are the highlight of my week.

Q: Noted! No sarcasm! What are you watching and listening for at these meetings?

A: Pretty much everything. You listen for back-and-forth and pointed arguments and the whole deal. Part of politics is we love a good show. Especially the media–we love a good show.

Q: Are there some councilmen whom you can depend on to say something…”out there?”

A: Well, “out there,” yeah. There are councilmen who are very consistent. Sometimes they’ll surprise you, which is always great. I like to be surprised.

Q: How do they generally treat each other?

A: Actually, to be honest–pretty well. I read your thing about Baltimore—

Q: Yeah, that was wacky.  Some of them visibly can’t stand each other.

A: They get that way. All city councilmen are like that when you’ve got ideologies–they clash. One guy will be insulting another one week and they’ll be best of friends the next. Fort Wayne, Indiana is one of the most functional cities I’ve ever worked in.

Q: Are they pretty friendly with you?

A: I think they know I can be fair with them. You’ll get reporters and outlets that specific councilmen don’t like. As far as I know, no one has ever told me that they absolutely hate me. Generally if you’re a journalist, someone somewhere hates you.

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Fort Wayne, IN city council reporter Dave Gong

Q: Did I seem cool in high school?

A: Yeah…as cool as any of the rest of us were in high school. I don’t remember any of us going to a bunch of parties. There was a lot of laser tag.

Q: Mmhmm.

A: Whatever my judge of “cool” is, it’s probably wrong….But from my standpoint, you were f*cking awesome.

Q: What’s the weirdest thing that you’ve seen happen?

A: That’s a hard one. Ninety percent of them are super mundane. After the election in November, the council was even more Republican. This guy got up and he starts railing about how all the Democrats are socialists and the Republicans should show backbone.  And [Councilman] Glynn Hines, through his hands, coughed “BULLSH*T” into his hot mic.

Q: Whoa!

A: In other places–you go to Chicago–you see swearing on the floor. I saw lawmakers, state elected lawmakers hurling insults at each other. But in Fort Wayne, that was unconscionable. It spurred a blog post from me–because I like that sort of crap–caused public apologies, and it was…beautiful, actually.

Q: Do you ever gossip about the councilmen to other reporters?

A: Sometimes. Paul Ensley was wearing a bow tie the other day and kind of looked like Pee-wee Herman.

Q: I saw that! So creepy.

A: He’s a fun one. He beat a 12-year incumbent  in the primary.

Q: Are you gonna go to the reunion?

A: I’ve been on that alumni website and–

Q: No one told me about that…

A: …I imagine somebody will call.

Q: …

Follow Dave Gong on Twitter: @DGong89

#20: Chicago, IL 5/18/16

It’s official: I’ve seen the Chicago Marathon.

Not the race–I’m talking about this week’s ungodly three-and-a-half hour council meeting.

I sure hope city clerk Susana Mendoza did major vocal warm ups, because her first task was to read the names of 110 children–for five straight minutes–getting scholarships in Chicago.

“We, the mayor and members of the city council, do hereby congratulate the following students,” she began, before rattling off the list like a pro: rolling her R’s and punching up the vowels in those tricky Latino names.

But this mini-graduation did not stop there. One by one, TWENTY-SEVEN of the city’s aldermen stood up to congratulate each student in their ward–and, more often than not, massacre their names.

Alderman Carrie Austin squinted at her notes. “I know I’m gonna butcher their names,” she muttered. And she did, awkwardly shrugging, “or…sounds something like that.”

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Alderman Carrie Austin is proud of you, whatever your name is.

Finally, after half an hour of speeches…it was time to congratulate MORE students.

“Whereas the Junior Reserve Officer Training Program–” the clerk began.

From the gallery, a protester began screaming. “NO CHECK FOR RENT!” over and over.

Mayor Rahm Emanuel banged his gavel. “Hold on, we’ll start over.”

The man was hauled off and the clerk hit rewind. “Whereas the Junior–”

“NO. CHECK. FOR RENT.” a group of people resumed the chant. One guy began free styling over the chanters: “MONEY FOR SCHOOLS! NOT RICH DEVELOPERS!”

After they were escorted out, the mayor turned to the chamber. “We’re gonna try to do this [resolution] for the kids, but if anyone has another protest, let me know right now.” The aldermen laughed and the city clerk resumed her reading…until for the third time she was forced to stop.

“BACK ROW,” the mayor icily addressed the chatty council members in the rear. “These kids have studied hard. Their parents are here. Their teachers are here. Please just hush your voices.”

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Mayor Rahm Emanuel: “I will murder the next person who talks.”

At blessed last, the clerk finished the resolution. Alderman Austin rose again to speak. “I remember when I was in high school–gosh, that would’ve been a hundred years ago–I wanted to be in the ROTC. One, I wanted the uniform. Two, I wanted to tell people what to do.”

“Well,” cut in Mayor Emanuel, “you’ve mastered one out of two.” The whole chamber erupted in laughter.

An hour of speeches had passed, but, dear reader, don’t think everyone was tired of talking: beloved water commissioner Tom Powers was retiring, which gave all 50 alderman an excuse to slowly eulogize him.

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It’s a war of attrition.

Their remarks included the kind–

(“I’m giving you permission to enjoy yourself!” –Alderman Michelle Harris)

–the creepy–

(“I was the one that he was out seeing at 7:30 on Saturday mornings.” –Alderman Michael Zalewski)

–and the…violent?

(“I would have picked you up by the collar, put you up against the wall, and said you could not go.” –Alderman Pat Dowell)

Luckily, the commissioner took it in stride. “Somebody once told me, you’re gonna miss the circus but you’re not gonna miss the clowns,” he remarked. There was a slow roll of cackling and applause by said clowns. He quickly added, “I am gonna miss all of you.”

Final thoughts: 50 city council members are waaaaay toooooo many. Chicago, I’ll tune in again when you get it below 25.

#15: Danville, VA 5/5/16

Danville may not be the biggest city. Or the best city. Or even the best city named Danville (it’s Danville, California, obvi). But it has one thing that other cities do not:

The most annoyingly-cheerful sons-of-b’s on city council.

Mayor Sherman Saunders rose with a proclamation for the 50th anniversary of the city’s Goodyear plant. “Whereas the Goodyear tire and rubber company broke ground in DANVILLE,” he said, practically shouting the city name. “And whereas Goodyear DANVILLE is DANVILLE’s largest employer–” at this point, the two representatives from Goodyear were suppressing laughter as the Honorable Mayor bellowed “Danville” every other sentence.

“I, Sherman M. Saunders, mayor, city of DANVILLE do hereby commend Goodyear DANVILLE on its 50th anniversary in DANVILLE, Virginia.” He glanced at the room with a kingly defiance.

“Yeah, I’m proud to say ‘DANVILLE.’ That’s right!”

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Don’t tell Mayor Sherman Saunders that someone didn’t put “DANVILLE” in all caps

“Thank you, and we look forward to another 50 years of good service in Danville,” the company’s representatives responded, opting not to scream the city name. It didn’t matter–there was already a huge lovefest for Goodyear in the crowd.

“I worked at Goodyear and I built on the U2s,” the mayor reminisced.

“I also worked at Goodyear,” boasted Councilman James Buckner.

“Goodyear is Danville and Danville is Goodyear,” Councilman  J. Lee Vogler, the resident poet, freestyled.

Next, the sheriff came forward to talk about the first annual Youth Day on Saturday–complete with music, a basketball free throw competition, and hundred-yard dash.

“Do you have something for [people] over 65?” Councilman John Gilstrap cheekily inquired.

“Serving hot dogs,” the sheriff retorted.

Gilstrap chuckled. “I can do that!”

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The council, looking jazzed about Youth Day

Youth Day wasn’t the only big ticket item in town–and not even the only one featuring wieners: “The community market opens this Saturday,” Councilman Buckner reported. “Make sure you stop by at the time I’m working because I’m gonna make hands down the best hot dogs.”

Vice-Mayor Gary Miller called bullsh*t: “Mr. Buckner may think he makes the best hot dogs, but I’m gonna produce the healthiest ones. I’m gonna have turkey dogs,” he bragged, to groans from the council. “That are healthy for you.”

“There goes my appetite,” the mayor gagged. It sounds like the vice-mayor will have plenty of leftovers. Thanksgiving dinner at the Miller house? Turkey hot dogs.

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Would you eat a turkey hot dog from this man?

Before the meeting adjourned, Mayor Saunders flipped on his mic, leaned back, and speechified like a Sunday preacher. “I want to thank the voters who reelected me just a few days ago. I maintain–you’re gonna hear it four more years–DANVILLE is a great city.

“Yes, we do have issues to work on and we are working on them. But the minute number of people who are causing these negative issues….they will be caught and they WILL be stopped.”

The mayor was all worked up and now spitting pure verse.

“There is no despair here in DANVILLE. Thank you for electing us.

“Thank you for supporting us.

“Thank you for believing in us.

“And thank you for being a part of the great city…of DANVILLE, VIRGINIA.”

Final thoughts: I loved this meeting as much as Mayor Saunders loves screaming theword “DANVILLE.” I give it 8/10 turkey hot dogs.

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UPDATE: 11:33 a.m. THIS GUY!