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.
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:
If you had asked me to write the plotline for a council meeting in a small southern town, there is no way I would have invented anything as riveting as the actual Goldsboro city council meeting.
“My favorite time of the night: public comment period,” swashbuckling Mayor Chuck Allen boomed as onlookers stirred in their seats. He had barely finished his sentence before an elderly man swaggered to the podium, shouting his name and address.
“How are you, sir?” Council Member Mark Stevens greeted him warmly.
“I’m doing wonderful! Everybody’s bright-eyed and enjoying the meeting,” hollered the man. He planted his entire body in an immobile slouch and made his position crystal clear.
“In behalf of all the fine, clean, Christian people who live in Goldsboro and wanna keep this a safe and clean city,” he thundered, “we the clean, Christian people do hereby OPPOSE Sabbath morning sale of alcoholic beverages.”
Oh, my god. It’s Footloose.
Heads nodded in the crowd.
“It’s a threat to the church. It’s a disgrace to the community. Thank you for your vote against it.”
In a first for me, he then commenced his own round of applause, which citizens and a few council members joined as he retreated from the microphone.
A petite woman with a shock of white hair took his place. “I attend Adamsville Baptist Church. Serving alcohol at 10 a.m. on Sunday will be a bad influence on the young people.”
She frowned deeply as if looking into the eyes of Satan himself. “If we have our people setting in the bar on a Sunday morning, they are missing an opportunity to attend one of our many churches.”
I should mention, the council was voting today on the “Brunch Bill” to allow alcohol sales starting at 10 a.m. on Sundays. And if you couldn’t tell, there was a teensy bit of opposition from a very specific demographic:
“You have one person–one person ONLY–that is looking at you HARDER than we are,” bellowed a graying church deacon, pointing skyward. “It’s the man upstairs.”
People are literally sitting in pews here.
“Amens” flitted across the room. But the president of the downtown merchants’ association strolled to the podium to argue on behalf of the local heretics.
“Seventy-one percent of downtown merchants are in favor of the Brunch Bill. The merchants feel the bill will bring new businesses to Goldsboro,” he countered, rattling off all of the neighboring cities and counties that had Sunday morning sales.
A hostile silence, broken by a single boo, greeted the heathen as he walked off.
Another local bar owner, clad in a neat button-up shirt and a tidy haircut, stared at the mayor and asked a simple question.
“We have alcohol sales starting at 7 a.m. Monday through Saturday. So what’s the difference with Sunday?”
Mayor Allen eyed the gallery as various parishioners muttered, “it’s the lord’s day.”
“The LORD’S day,” the man repeated for emphasis. “THAT’S the difference. So now this is an issue of religion.”
If I may answer on behalf of the audience: “Yeah…so?”
“There are many sabbaths,” this barkeep-cum-professor lectured the council. “Sunday is not the ONLY sabbath. We’re making laws based on religion. I would refer you to the First Amendment.”
Having heard both sides for almost a half hour, Mayor Allen called for the vote. “All those in favor, raise your right hand.”
He and three council members voted aye. The remaining three voted no. The teetotalers had lost.
Council Member Stevens vented in frustration. “For those who were disappointed in this situation, you know…keep praying. The lord will keep you safe.”
Summer vacation? We don’t need no stinkin’ summer vacation! There are WAY too many city council meetings to cover and–despite the work of our time travel research team–so little time.
We saw a little girl get stoked to shake hands with every council member, heard about multiple people getting kicked out of council meetings, and experienced our first meeting in another language. If none of that is ringing a bell, go peruse our June Month in Review page.
And if you’re still not convinced that June’s council meetings were all that cool, have I got the picture to prove you DEAD WRONG:
Corey Branch is in his first term on the Raleigh city council and there is one simple thing that he’d like to receive at a council meeting. (Much to my chagrin, it’s not a flamethrower.) Plus, we talk about how you have to acknowledge criticism from citizens and move past it.
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Q: Other than grievances, what have people given you at council meetings?
A: Handouts, shirts, mugs are the main things we’ve seen. Little pinwheels we’ve received for child abuse prevention. Those–
Q: I don’t see the connection there.
A: Yeah, they’re pink pinwheels. It’s a symbol for that. I couldn’t tell you how it started.
Q: Well, obviously you remember what the pinwheel was for, so it did its job. But if you could receive anything for free at a council meeting, what would you want it to be?
A: A thank-you. That for me, honestly, means so much because I know the time that me and my peers put in to serve. Sometimes it’s just good to hear that it’s appreciated because we hear a lot of what we’re doing wrong. It’s just good to hear someone say thank you.
Q: Mmm. I would have chosen those novelty glasses that you put on and it looks like your eyes are open but secretly you can sleep behind them, you know?
A: I know exactly the ones you’re talking about!
Q: Yeah, well that’s what I would have chosen anyway. That or a flamethrower.
Raleigh, NC Councilor Corey Branch
When public commenters bring up the issue of race or refer to the other council members as “white folks,” do you feel they are excluding you? Or are they not speaking so much about “black v. white,” but really “citizens v. people in power?”
A: I think it’s a mix of both. People’s experiences play a major role in how they interact and how they may see things or express things. As for me, do I feel they’re talking to me or excluding me? I can’t speak for them. I just know every day for the last 39.5 years when I wake up, I’ve been a man of color.
Q: I don’t want to be the white guy who does this, but I watched an episode of Blackish recently, and–
A: [Chuckles]
Q: I know how this is coming across right now! But the father explains to the son about “the nod,” where if two black men walk past each other, they nod in acknowledgment. Do you get the sense that when people speak to the council, they telegraph to you, “hey, YOU should at least be on my side?”
A: Um, yes. I have to look at the situation, what’s going on. I’m fortunate that I can bring in some experiences that other council members have not [had]. If I feel there is a lack of equity, I need to be a voice. Speaking out may not be directly from that table. It may be a sidebar conversation.
Q: If someone was criticizing me because I was “white folks” or…or anything, “young people,” “left-handed people,” I would get defensive and tune them out.
A: I hear it and acknowledge it. We have to act like adults. That’s why earlier when you asked me what I wanted, I said a thank-you for these very reasons we’re talking about here.
No flash. No tomfoolery. The Winston-Salem city council meeting was the “salad without dressing” of municipal powwows. There were no detours, no non-sequiturs, and a heavy dosage of the dry stuff.
“The theme for Building Safety Month 2017 encourages all Americans to raise awareness of the importance of building safety,” read the council secretary in a listless monotone. “And to be mindful of fire prevention, disaster mitigation, and backyard safety.”
After checking my backyard for potential hazards, I returned to the proceedings in time for a riveting slide show of the Northwest Winston-Salem Area Plan.
“We’ve had four public meetings, very well attended,” bragged a city employee at the podium. “Overall attendance was 75 people, with about 45 individuals coming to multiple meetings.”
Let the record show: a Trump inauguration-sized crowd of people attended these meetings.
One hour in, we finally saw a spark of passion from these dying embers. Granted, it was an unlikely subject to cause a dustup: a reexamination of the 2017 property tax appraisal process.
Hear me out! It gets interesting!
“To have our properties lowered like they have been lowered,” Mayor Pro Tempore Vivian Burke made sweeping eye contact with every person on the dais, “it must be our challenge that we let [Forsyth County] know that we don’t like what we are receiving.”
She waved her index finger menacingly next to her oversized broach, signaling that she meant business.
Council Member Denise Adams took a less ominous, more philosophical approach. “For the listening audience and others, there’s always an opportunity to change,” she leaned into the microphone and smiled. “Times change. People change.”
Fact check: TRUE–people do change.
For pure pathos, Council Member John Larson channeled the inner frustrations of many Winston-Salemites–er, Winstonian-Salemers? Winstoner-Salemanders?
“Nobody likes to see their property devalued. It’s very demoralizing.” He frowned deeply and scratched his demoralized face. “Their home is one of the most important investments they have. Individuals don’t have the stamina to take it in front of the Board of Adjustments.”
But someone who did have a trainload of stamina was Mayor Pro Tempore Burke. Suddenly no more Ms. Nice Council Member, she used Larson’s comments to light a match on her stick of rhetorical dynamite.
“It is a DISGRACE and a SHAME that we allow investors to come through and assault our neighborhoods like they have,” she thundered.
“I said to the city manager, ‘I just want you to go and look. Look at the joy and pleasure we have in keeping our neighborhoods.’ Homes are simply beautiful. We spend many dollars–mine looks like a golf course.”
She stared daggers. “Stop destroying our dreams.”
Burke: “I buried 15 land mines on my property. I dare you to come destroy my dreams.”
Finishing on a lighter note, the city manager folded his hands politely and smiled. Far from crushing anyone’s hopes, he was instead expanding their horizons.
“You’ve been asking for many years for us to reduce the use of paper. So this is our fist month using iPads for automated agendas so we don’t have to chop down all those trees.”
He paused before teasing a tantalizing piece of news. “And in a few months we’ll actually be voting with our iPads as well.”
Welcome to the future, Winston-Salem. As a great thinker once said, “Times change. People change.”
Final thoughts: I give 10 out of 10 stars to those 45 people who attended multiple zoning meetings. Oy vey, how did you manage?!
Watching the Asheville city council meeting last month, I noticed the particularly steady guidance of Mayor Esther Manheimer. What was her deal? How does a first-term mayor run such smooth meetings?
In this interview, Her Honor told me about gaining confidence, her fascination with tribal customs, and when she ejected a troublemaker.
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Q: Before you were mayor, you were a regular council member. How are council meetings different now that you’re in charge?
A: You’re of more of a facilitator. You’re making sure everyone has their voice heard. You can’t just space out. If you’re a council member, you can choose to just not know any of that.
Q: When you were a council member, did you avoid knowing the rules?
A: No, no, no. I love all things Roberts Rules. Especially with my anthropology major as an undergrad–tribal customs.
Q: What’s the most well-run city council meeting you’ve seen besides, obviously, the ones you run?
A: As a lawyer, I have appeared before many county commissions and city council meetings. I like a well-run meeting where the chair keeps the questions focused. Sometimes you can watch it unfold in front of you and they’re veering off into territory that’s not even in front of them and the chair is not controlling that.
Q: When you were just a council member, how did the mayor run meetings compared to your style?
A: She did not corral the troops ahead of the meetings, so it was a little more chaotic. I try to make sure we’re prepared.
Asheville, NC Mayor Esther Manheimer
Q: Your previous mayor was a city council member, then mayor. You were a city council member, now mayor. Do you ever look from side to side at a meeting and think, “which one of these people is coming for my job?”
A: Not DURING the meeting but…[laughs] I definitely wonder, are there other folks who want to become the next mayor of Asheville? And then I think, do I wanna run for mayor again?
Q: …
A: …
Q: …DO you wanna run for mayor again?
A: I don’t know. I have three young kids. Politician, mommy–plus I’m a full-time working lawyer.
Q: It’s hard to have it all. Speaking of the other council members, do they act differently in private than they do on camera?
A: Oh yeah. Very different. I have the newer council members that are learning more about getting their voice and saying their opinion loud and clear in public. That’s a process every newly-elected person has to go through. And it’s a little scary.
Q: It’s also scary during public comment when people are calling you liars and con artists. How do you decide when to say something and when to just sit there?
A: We have gotten to know who is going to be constantly disappointed with us no matter what. To respond every time almost elevates the comment. I don’t think when we’re being told we’re liars, to say, “oh, I’m not a liar” is helpful. I won’t respond in those situations. Now, if someone is providing incorrect information, I will clarify it. Because there might be three people watching and so–apparently you’re watching, too. So, four people.
Q: Darn right.
A: The first time I had to throw somebody out of the meeting, I had him removed because he was directing his comments at staff and not at us. He was staring at the staff and I warned him several times that’s not appropriate.
During this Labor Day weekend, it’s a good time to remember all of the people who labor hard every week at city council meetings for hours and hours–or, sometimes, for 19 minutes. Catch up on where City Council Chronicles visited in the month of August.
P.S. If you didn’t see our appearance in last week’s Baltimore Sun, don’t worry–my intern spends 23 hours every day reading each newspaper in the country to see who mentions The Chronicles. And he finally found one!
These words barely scratch the surface of the cauldron of civic engagement that was the Asheville city council meeting.
It was a big day, with bonds galore! Transportation bond! Housing bond! Parks and rec bond! But first, the council needed a public hearing. Let’s roll the dice and see what the Good People have to say.
“I rise to state that there is an inconvenient truth about this so-called ‘public hearing,'” a man in a dapper white suit read from his notes. (Whenever someone labels something “so-called,” you know you’re in for a treat.)
“All this, I believe, is merely window dressing on the city council to foist a poorly-planned, unnecessary, pie-in-the-sky, $110 million financial burden upon the city,” he drawled, before socking Asheville’s bureaucrats right in the kisser. “This can become a slush fund to use as they please.”
For someone who’s against spending money, that’s an awfully fancy pocket square.
He shuffled back to his seat. “Is there anyone else wishing to speak?” Mayor Esther Manheimer asked warily. No one in the crowded room hopped up.
“You all do know that we’re just doing bonds pretty much tonight?” she laughed nervously.
It was do-or-die time. Put-up-or-shut-up time. The vote: all three bonds passed. Easily. Like, really easily.
“Congratulations, we did our first bond package,” announced the mayor with the best poker face this side of Vegas.
Councilwoman Julie Mayfield briefly golf-clapped. “Are we allowed to clap?” she inquired after no one followed suit.
“We can look enthusiastic,” the mayor responded.
The mayor is at peak enthusiasm.
Vice Mayor Gwen Wisler then kicked off what must have been an uncomfortable moment for three particular Ashevillians. “We interviewed three candidates for the Sustainability Advisory Committee on Energy and the Environment just before the city council meeting.”
She whipped out a pen. “Each council member, tell me who you vote for.”
Oh, wow. This is happening now. In public.
Councilman Keith Young jumped in without hesitation. “I’m going with Emily” Boyd.
Councilwoman Mayfield agonized over her options. “These are all great candidates….It’s amazing….Tough choice.” She paused. “I am gonna go with Bridget” Herring.
“I’m gonna vote for Brad” Rouse, retorted Councilman Cecil Bothwell.
A three-way tie. What a nail-biter. I can’t watch!
“Bridget Herring,” Her Honor the mayor said without comment.
“Bridget Herring,” the vice mayor and Councilman Gordon Smith dittoed. It was a lock.
“I counted Bridget Herring,” triumphantly declared Vice Mayor Wisler. “We’ll get ahold of the candidates tomorrow and tell them.”
Uh…no offense Madam Vice Mayor, but you do realize you’re on TV, right?
Vice Mayor: If only there were some way for people to know what’s happening at the city council…
As the meeting drew to a close, the mayor opened up public comment. And the public included a bearded man wearing shorts who talked about, well, what you would expect a bearded man in shorts to talk about.
“Hemp X Asheville is happening,” he grinned. “I hope a few or many of y’all can make it, and certainly those watching on TV as well.”
Sorry, bud. I’ll be busy watching city council meetings.
Final thoughts: I give 10 out of 10 stars to runners-up Emily Boyd and Brad Rouse, who came so close to getting the job but got, arguably, something better: a shout-out on City Council Chronicles.
City Council Chronicles 