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.
July was a solid month for a couple of our key demographics. Readers, for instance, were buoyed by the news that the Book Mobile was roaring back after a 30-year absence!
People who enjoy theater and comedy were also pleased when we interviewed the city manager whose council loves to put on an elaborate production once a year.
Branden Dyer spent 2011-2015 on the Charlotte (rhymes with “car lot”) city council, was defeated for reelection, but was appointed back on the council this March. The difference in tone between 2015 and 2018 is night and day.
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Q: In your final meeting during 2015, you said you felt that the “negative campaign” against you was a distraction. Your city is only 9,000 people; don’t take this the wrong way, but what was there to be negative about in Charlotte?
A: A group of individuals who were not happy with the situation made an effort to remove me and other individuals from council. You kind of expect it in national elections, but there was a lot of rumors, a lot of negative Facebook comments and attacks.
Q: Some meetings, commenters seemed to imply the council was a rubber stamp for the city manager. Was that part of the tonal shift in Charlotte politics?
A: Yes. Their intention was to get rid of the city manger. When they made a move to not renew the city manager’s contract, there was a significant community uproar and they eventually backed down.
Q: Did you ever feel any pressure on council to go out of your way to question or oppose the city manager’s recommendations because you had this accusation of a rubber stamp being hurled at you?
A: No, I had no qualms with disagreeing with the city manager. But also, the city manager has a PhD literally in city management and I do not! In this age of complex government regulations and techniques, I think it’s best to defer to the expertise.
Charlotte, MI Councilman Branden Dyer
Q: Well, I have a PhD in making quality municipal affairs audio content (obviously from the University of Phoenix), but it is 100 percent impossible to look at any of your council meetings from 2015 without noticing a young man named Zachary who was a candidate for mayor and an unrelenting critic of your government. What was his deal?
A: [He] was a disgruntled citizen that definitely exercised his five minute public comment limit down to the second at every chance he got. I tried to get him involved on a city committee but he never responded to my offer. After losing the mayor race, apparently his concerns were satisfied or he just kind of disappeared.
Q: He was pretty much in there nonstop to troll you guys and, I’m assuming, get free video of his speeches for his campaign. How did you respond to being baited?
A: Zach never really came after me personally. [The mayor] did not choose to run for reelection. Her term as mayor was difficult on her. Zach routinely attacked her and the city manager personally. The environment and vibe on council was a lot different than when I first went on council and my current term on council. “Toxic” is not really the word I want to use, but I think that’s kind of the best way to describe it.
Q: Was part of the reason you wanted these meetings videotaped and put online so that people who were not the attackers could look at what you were encountering and kind of sympathize with the situation?
A: I don’t think I was necessarily looking for sympathy, but you want everybody to be informed. The group that came against me and other council members were very savvy at using social media. They could get their view out there, and I wanted to be sure there was an official record so that if individuals chose to, they had the ability to see what actually happened instead of taking one viewpoint from one group in town. I wanted to make sure things weren’t skewed.
October is an exciting month because you can always count on at least one city council to really get into the Halloween spirit. Sure enough, Wisconsin delivered. But there were plenty of other highlights, including a sudden competition between two cupcakeries and a mayoral field trip that I may have been invited to.
The podcast was also busy, as we heard from a former Scottish Highland dancer, a city manager who remembered the ejection of one council member, and a robot-heavy episode of our “Best Thing, Worst Thing” project. Look at the highlights in our October Month in Review.
And if you still aren’t convinced that last month was any different from the other 11 months of the year, THIS wizard-priest will cast a spell on you:
No sooner had the cameras turned on than Mayor Pro Tem Steve Baker made an aggressive opening bid.
“I’d like to suggest that we move the ‘communications’ before the closed session. So that as we move into closed session, we can just adjourn–” he gazed to the audience with hands outstretched “–without holding these folks here all night.”
Multiple council members simultaneously assented. “Seconded by several people all at the same time,” Mayor Phil O’Dwyer observed dryly.
Speaking of the audience, a substantial number of chairs were filled–and for good reason. Tonight, there was a LOT the good people of Berkley needed to get off their chests and on the record.
“I’m a physician. I come today not with my physician hat on,” a balding man with glasses but no hat whatsoever introduced himself, “but my president’s hat for the Berkley Rotary Club. Every year we have an annual pancake breakfast.”
He brandished a colorful poster. “I’m leaving some flyers. I did not bring any tickets to sell.”
Yum.
However, I quickly realized what he was “selling” was indeed not pancakes, but rather the very existence of the Rotary itself.
“I’m concerned that our club may be going away,” the man frowned and looked from face to face. “We normally have about 25 members. Every year it’s been dwindling. People move. People retire. People die.”
A woman behind him stroked her chin. A man in a white moustache looked stricken. The speaker continued:
“We’re down to six members, which is a pretty sad state. In the past from Berkley, we’ve had city managers, we’ve had police chiefs, we’ve had librarians. We really have no members representing the city.”
He stood rigidly and delivered the heartbreaking news directly at the mayor. “If we don’t have a successful pancake breakfast, the six members are going to go away. So I’m pleading with the city that we can get some representation in our club.”
Whoa. Normally, people come in to ask city councils for money or services. In this case, he just needs somebody–anybody–to show up. This isn’t some obscure quilting club; it’s the Rotary. If it falls, who will look after the city? The Neighborhood Garden Coalition?
I don’t think so, mayor.
His message of “our death will be on your hands” isn’t exactly an uplifting call to action.
Whatever the fate of Rotary, his cry for help resonated with the next commenter–the man with the moustache–who was listening closely.
“Proud citizen of Berkley,” was his gruff identification. “We need more citizens to step up. Volunteer. Such as the Rotary Club. The Parade Committee. The Beautification Committee.”
He kept it to all of 30 seconds. “Step up and help. Thank you.”
As if some invisible composer had orchestrated the whole thing, the next woman was spearheading the aforementioned Holiday Parade Committee. And I’ll give you one guess at what the Committee needs:
“Like everybody else, we’re looking for volunteers to help us on our parade staff,” she announced. “We would like to extend an invitation to our mayor and city council when Santa Claus will be given the key to the city.”
Who needs keys when you use chimneys?
“You are assuring us tonight,” interjected Mayor O’Dwyer in his authentic Irish brogue, “that Santa Claus will be there?”
“Absolutely,” she nodded solemnly. “We’ve gotten word from the North Pole that he will be coming down Twelve Mile and he’ll be greeting all the little children–and adults.”
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:
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.
Somebody, put up the balloons and the streamers! At the Saginaw city council meeting, we’ve got birthdays in the house.
“It is my honor to give this proclamation,” grinned Mayor Pro Tem Floyd Kloc as three stocky gentlemen from the Kiwanis Club clustered at the podium. “I’m also a member, so it’s quite special to me!”
“Be it resolved,” he read, that the city “does extend this expression of gratitude to the Kiwanis Club of Saginaw for their service over the past 100 years.”
A proud centenarian stepped forward. “One of our signature projects is buying dictionaries for all the third graders in Saginaw public schools. Last year we bought 386 dictionaries, I believe.”
Dictionaries? As in, old-fashioned autocorrect? Classy move.
More importantly: are you buying the children Snapchat filters and fidget spinners?
The Kiwanis may have been turning 100, but I hope they know how to respect their elders–because an even more senior group was also blowing out candles.
“I represent the Plumbers & Steamfitters Union, Local 85. We turned 125 years old on May 1,” a significantly younger man informed the council.
“I am a little partial to Local 85,” admitted Council Member Michael Balls coyly. “My son attained his journeyman card through the plumbers union and he lives in a big beautiful home with a three-car garage and stuff like that.”
Balls nodded with the satisfaction of a proud dad. “It’s been real rewarding to him.”
“However, if my Father’s Day present this year isn’t a Porsche, I will disown him.”
As it turned out, Saginaw was about to witness another son do right by his dad.
But the circumstances were anything but cheerful.
“Proclamation in memory of Brent R. Smith, whose rich and abundant life came to a close on March 3, 2017,” read Mayor Pro Tem Kloc, standing to shake hands with a long line of bereaved family members.
The bespectacled teenage son then stepped up to the microphone.
“I’d much rather have my dad up here receiving this honor,” he said while family members folded their arms behind him.
“He was greatly influenced by his grandpa. They were best friends and they’re most likely hanging out right now as I speak.”
😥
“All of his hope and trust was in Jesus Christ,” he continued quickly, so as to avoid becoming too emotional. “He and my mom raised the three of us kids to be god-fearing Christians as well.”
While the audience stared silently at the floor, the boy punctuated his eulogy with plainspoken Midwestern piety:
“My dad did so much for so many people. There’s one thing that we know for sure in all of this: when my dad was standing before god, he heard the words, ‘well done, good and faithful servant.'”
From the back row, a slow clap began. Council Member Brenda Moore slapped the table and stared kindly at the Smith daughter.
“I came in with the young lady and I told her she was so beautiful. You are beautiful,” she repeated in a grandmotherly tone.
“And thank you so much–mom, family–for sharing your husband with the city of Saginaw.”
Then, ending the council meeting on a note of good fortune, she revealed: “I hope that you start to enjoy the sunny weather. I’m actually gonna plant a garden this year with the help of my friends. We’re gonna plant a garden!”
And with that, the cycle of life, death, and birth was complete in the span of a single city council meeting.
It’s a holiday, so enjoy your day off and remember to thank your city council members. We will be back on Wednesday with a new podcast interview. But in the meantime–hey, did you read EVERY council meeting review in December? Including the one with the border wall around the city council?
If not, you can do your part to Make America Great Again by browsing the month in review. And as always, you can listen to the regular and bonus podcast episodes (22 in all) on iTunes, Stitcher, and Player FM.
Inside the Livonia city council chamber, it felt like the last day of school before Winter Break. Oh, sure, THEORETICALLY there was work to do. But there were also plenty of hugs and goodbyes to go around.
“Welcome to the 1,815th regular meeting of the Livonia city council,” President Kathleen McIntyre dutifully announced. While I’d like to imagine McIntyre boarded up in her office and forlornly drawing another line on a wall full of tally marks, that works out to roughly 76 years of city council meetings.
“My oldest daughter is now a teenager as of Saturday,” Council Member Scott Bahr (who, oddly enough, looked barely old enough to buy cigarettes) gave a shout-out at the top of the meeting.
This man has been chugging from the Fountain of Youth.
“I would like to wish my oldest son a very happy 19th birthday,” Council President McIntyre dittoed. She looked directly into the camera. “He will be celebrating that on January 5th. He was originally due on December 22nd. The fact that he arrived two weeks late pretty much told us how he was gonna go through life–on his own schedule.”
There were a few uncomfortable chuckles.
Spirits were lifted, however, when cheerful Wayne County Commissioner Terry Marecki stopped by to say “hiya” in her thick upper Midwest accent.
“I’m sure you’re gonna enjoy your couple weeks off here with your regular jabs and doing this jab at night!” she exclaimed.
“I wanted to give you an update on 8 Mile Road. It’s been what, six weeks, Tadd [Todd], that they finished it? I want to assure you, it’s going to be done.”
She flashed a reassuring grin and a goofy sign-off. “You can tell your peeps!”
“Tell your peeps, your squad, your bruhs, your brahs, and especially your homies.”
Before the peeps could be told, there was one serious piece of business to do.
“This is a request to purchase a FARO 3-D laser scanner,” Council President McIntyre read. “This comes from the police for 3-D scene mapping. Good evening, chief.”
Livonia’s police chief stood with neatly-combed hair at the podium to explain this expensive purchase. “This is a huge step forward in our ability to map all crime scenes. You may recall the fatal accident that we had not too long ago. To map that scene with our current device took six hours. That scene with this device would take 30 minutes.”
Wow. From six hours to 30 minutes?! Sign me up for a baker’s dozen!
“This is exciting stuff,” Council Vice President Brandon Kritzman murmured in fascination. The council approved the scanner.
As council members prepared to go home to their milk and cookies, there was a surprise comment from former Council Member James C. McCann.
“I didn’t plan on this, but as somebody who sat where you’re sitting, the ability of this council to work together–” he smiled proudly, like he was speaking at a high school convocation.
This is “Santa Formal” attire
“Everybody’s always prepared. It is very nice to see a council that’s working this very well together. And I’d recommend to the voters that if they have the chance to reelect every one of you, they should do it.”
Hear hear! Tell your peeps!
Final thoughts: Obviously I haven’t seen all 1,815 Livonia city council meetings, but I would easily rank this one in the top 400.
City Council Chronicles 