I’m super stoked to report that our friends at Engaging Local Government Leaders (elgl.org) nominated City Council Chronicles for the “Top 100 Local Government Influencers” list–a.k.a. the “Chris Traeger” award.
We’re changing the world, baby! Personally, I was angling for the Presidential Medal of Freedom, but this is an acceptable substitute. Now that we’re an official Local Government Influencer, call up your city council member and tell them they have no excuse not to get chronicled!
Maybe it was the summer heat or the moon in the Seventh House, but the 6:30 p.m. West Valley City council meeting felt more like an 8 a.m. college seminar: sleepy. The hypnotic monotone of Mayor Ron Bigelow certainly didn’t help.
“We turn to Councilmember Steve Vincent for our opening ceremony,” he murmured. “Opening ceremony” eh? Like the Olympics? By all means, bring out the drumline! Commence the light show! Sprint down the aisle with a flaming torch!
“I was trying to find something that I could present for Pioneer Day,” the councilmember teased us. “On my dad’s side of our family, when they came to New York, they didn’t have enough money to come west. So [my grandfather] laid telegraph line across the Plains to get to Utah.” (I’m getting the feeling that calling this an “opening ceremony” was a slight exaggeration.)
“He’d write stories about how they’d lay a few hundred yards of telegraph line and then the next morning they would have to redo it because they’d been torn down by Indians. Anyway, I think we all need to reflect on our pioneer heritage.”
Ah yes, what would an opening ceremony be without a little Indian sabotage?
Mayor Bigelow stared at his notes. “Was there anyone here who wanted to make public comments?” Pause. “Apparently not. A lot of comments, just not public,” he deadpanned.
“To our council, any comments tonight?” Crickets. “Nothing you wanna bring up? Oh-kay.” Imagine if Eeyore chugged a bottle of Nyquil and you’ve got Mayor Bigelow.
Because everyone was so tight-lipped, the council sailed through the rest of the meeting as fast as the mayor could talk.
“We go to item 8–this is for the purchase of a data backup system. We have a lot of data we have to store. In fact, you can go out and listen to any of our council meetings.”
Well, I’ll be damned. Something I can get behind! Back up those council meetings, baby!
Next item: “We need to do it tonight,” warned the mayor about the “asphalt polymer treatment project.”
“It’s a polymer mastic seal to prevent oxidation of the asphalt oil from the water infiltration and ultraviolet exposure,” he explained in an impressive display of vocabulary. “In other words, so it doesn’t break up from the water and the sun, I guess is the way you would put that.” Actually, the way I would put that is “rubbing some lotion on the road,” but I’m a dummy.
With the road massaged and the data safe and sound, the council adjourned.
Final thoughts: For doing all the heavy lifting, I give 10 out of 10 stars to Councilmember Vincent’s telegraph-laying grandfather. Bravo, sir.
It’s a beautiful evening at Dover City Hall. The city council is ready to go and boy, what a diverse, good-looking group of–what?
This isn’t the city council? Then who the h*ck are these people?
Control room, can we get a shot of the city council please?
THERE they are. Barely.
The first order of business was presenting an oversize, Publishers Clearing House-style check to a senior citizens’ home. The guy in charge accepted the award by embarking on a long, slow stemwinder of a tale. “We have 30 employees. We’re down a couple right now. We hired people from 18 years old–she just left–”
As the speech meandered, so did the control room–which decided that now was the perfect time for cutaway shots.
“Our average age is 75 years old. If you think about that, 75 is an average age–”
“We have a wonderful facility. For those of you who have not been out there, I would be glad to give you a tour–”
“It’s tough out there. For the fire department, you know, when you deal with seniors, there’s a lot of cooking incidents–”
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, NO MORE CLOSE-UPS.
At the conclusion, everyone snapped out of their stupor and applauded. Councilman Fred Neil–himself well above the average age in the senior home–shook hands and quipped, “as an 82-year-old, save me a spot!”
The council quickly pivoted to the youthful and chipper city librarian, who was here to brag about Dover Comic Con. “We’re starting on Friday night about 5:30 with the arrival of the Ghostbusters,” she promised.
Councilman David Anderson leaned forward intently. “Will the Tardis be there this year?”
“The Tardis will be there,” confirmed the librarian.
Councilman Neil piped up. “I thought it was marvelous when I went last year! I was greeted like a character, even though I was not in uniform.” (For context, he looks like the guy from “Up.”) “Even though I was one of the old guys, I appreciated what was going on.”
Speaking of goings-on, “Mr. Sudler had a get-together last weekend,” recalled Councilman William Hare. “I have to say that all the hype about Roy’s Ribs was true! There was only one problem with ’em: there wasn’t enough!” The councilmen cackled in response.
Councilman Roy Sudler, Jr., the culinary maestro of city hall, leveled a challenge right back at Hare: “Mt. Zion AME Church, they will be hosting an annual back to school and community fair. They would like to invite you to be this year’s celebrity chef–helping to cook hotdogs and hamburgers.”
Councilman Hare reflected. “Is there a waiver that we’re not held responsible for them eating my cooking?” Ha! Councilman, you and your poisonous gruel! Stick to what you know: order a couple buckets of Roy Sudler’s Ribs and call it a picnic.
Final thoughts: Oh, hey, control room dad!
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:
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.
(Sold separately)
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.
It was an electrifying week to embark on our first international city council review! Less electrified was my accountant, who has since advised me to “never, ever fly First Class to Canada again, you moron.”
Anyhow, there was waaaaay too much cool stuff about the Toronto city council to mention. So I’ll mention it all here in the form of a handy list.
In the U.S., council meetings usually kick off with the Pledge of Allegiance and occasionally a prayer. In Toronto, a choir sings the Canadian national anthem on top of a sweeping video montage. Come on, America, where’s our inspirational stock footage?!
In big cities, it’s unusual for the mayor to be in the room with the council. It’s even more unusual for the mayor to vote on the council. But in Toronto, the mayor is basically the 45th councilor.
Here’s an odd thing to watch: when councilors are asking questions to city staff, SOMETIMES they make eye contact like normal human beings. But usually, councilors don’t bother turning to look!
“There’s very few councilors who don’t know exactly where their camera is,” Councilor Shelley Carroll told me. “You pretty much get your media training on the job pretty fast.”
“Hey, Michael, what do you mean by that?” you might ask.
And if I were a Toronto city councilor, I would respond, “Through the speaker, they talk to each other by saying ‘through the speaker.'”
Explained Carroll: “You’re not supposed to take somebody on. Canadian cities try to treat themselves like they’re a House of Commons.” Yes, we wouldn’t want councilors to confront each other…any more than they usually do (see below).
When councilors vote with their machines, they hear a steady pulsating chime–imagine an autotuned version of a garbage truck’s back-up beeper. It’s kind of hypnotic. I wonder if anyone has dozed off while voting.
Councilors have a time limit on asking questions. The speaker butts in when they are done to say, “that was your last question.” And then she cuts their mic! Given how Toronto’s council meetings often stretch into double-digit hours, you better believe time limits are necessary. But I have yet to see another council that plays stopwatch cop like this.
Of course they’re polite–this is Canada! There were so many “sorrys” that I lost count. Like in this exchange between Councilor Josh Colle and the deputy city manager:
Colle: What has been the increase in property taxes collected?
DCM: $303 million, I believe.
Colle: Sorry, that’s TTC fares.
DCM: No, sorry, that’s property taxes.
Colle: You might have it the other way around?
DCM: Sorry.
On the other hand,
The council has a “bylaw,” which members invoke if they think someone is behaving poorly–for example, by insulting the staff. Councilors can also challenge Speaker Frances Nunziata on her rulings. In return, the speaker sometimes snaps at them about wasting time and keeping the noise level down. During the Rob Ford shenanigans, antics were even worse:
No one is better equipped to give us the director’s commentary on the Toronto city council meeting than longtime councilor and Twitter powerhouse Shelley Carroll.
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.
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:
Is that true?
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.
Q: I saw the video, yes.
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.
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.”
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.”
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!
Grab some chowdah and pahk your cah in the yahd–today we head to Boston!
Immediately, I knew that the MVP of this council meeting would be city clerk Maureen Feeney, who called roll in the most legit Boston accent this side of Bunker Hill.
“Councilah Flehrety [Flaherty]…Councilah MaCaathy [McCarthy]…Councilah Wooah [Wu],” she blurted out like a hotdog vendor at Fenway Park.
As a pastor stepped to the dais to offer the day’s prayer, it raised an important question: why is the Boston city council meeting in the concrete basement of Montresor from “The Cask of Amontillado”?
Councilors got down to business, with the clerk helpfully narrating the big issues:
“Dahket numbah 0993: accept for the city of Bahstan a donation from the Coast Gaahd. The boat and trailah will be added to the Habah Patrol and will benefit the city of Bahstan.”
“Dahket numbah 0823, sponsored by the mayah: Bahstan Latin School pahtial boilah replacement.”
But it wasn’t all trailahs and boilahs–there were serious problems facing the council as well.
Gas leaks: “There are anywhere from 1,300–which was a conservative estimate–[or] double or triple that,” Councilor Matt O’Malley cautioned.
LGBTQ youth: “Of the youth studied, one in five attempted suicide in the past year,” Councilor Josh Zakim fretted.
People without IDs: “Getting a formal identification card is burdensome for certain communities–undocumented immigrants, residents who are experiencing homelessness, transgender,” Council President Michelle Wu wu-arned.
Yikes, I haven’t seen this much chaos in Boston since any given Red Sox game.
But all was not lost. Riding in like Paul Revere was Councilor Ayanna Pressley. “I’m rising to create a little peer pressure for everyone,” she said cheekily. “If your spouse’s birthday falls on the same day as the council meeting, you will now feel the pressure to do the same thing I’m doing: happy birthday, sweetheart! Thirty-nine years young!”
Let’s see…13 council spouses…52 council meetings per year…the odds of another birthday happening are…gosh, where’s a math-savvy MIT janitor when you need one?
And what’s even better than a Boston birthday? A Boston boast-day:
“My office was contacted by the comptroller in New York City looking for information on our free sunscreen in the parks program,” Councilor O’Malley bragged. “This is a public health service that we are offering at zero cost to the taxpayer. New York City is piloting it this summer at their city pools.”
He gave a sly grin. “So I wanted to congratulate the great city of New York for ONCE AGAIN following Boston’s lead.” The other councilors whooped and guffawed like it was the second coming of the Boston Tea Party. (I admired their restraint for not also chanting “YANK-EES SUCK!”)
And on that note of being BRIEFLY, on ONE thing, SLIGHTLY better than New York, the council adjourned for some Dunkin’ Donuts and a packy of Sam Adams.
Final thoughts: What a wicked pissa of a council meeting! For slipping an F-U to New Yorkers, I give this meeting 8 out of 10 deflated Patriots footballs.
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.
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
City Council Chronicles 
