After months of political sloganeering, personal broadsides and occasional lucidity, the fat lady has finally sung on the convention center debate
by Liz Garrigan
By the time you read this, Metro finance chief Rich Riebeling's stress headache probably will have become more like a hangover.
And instead of wallowing in his status as an anguished detractor whose principled opposition to spending up to $650 million on a new convention center was steamrolled by overwhelming political will, Councilman Mike Jameson can take heart that he is the legislative body's Perry Mason, "asking all the tough questions," as colleague Erica Gilmore endearingly described him Tuesday night.
Even Councilwoman Emily Evans, the former bond trader who was the loudest critic of the so-called Music City Center and a frequent personal target of the project's boosters, is in good spirits despite her side's predictable 29-9 defeat.
"We had the debate it was looking like we weren't going to have," she says of the final days of the campaign, during which she was maligned as essentially a politically craven and ambitious know-it-all. "We raised some significant and credible concerns. We heard from the public. I represented the people that elected me, and though I disagreed with a few, I think I did right by the majority. Many of those people who supported the project are my friends, and I am certain we shall find many things to agree on in the future."
In fact, the anticlimactic finale to the divisive convention center campaign at times felt a little like a tent revival or spiritual intervention. There was an almost cloying way otherwise dissonant Metro Council members spoke about their city and one another.
At one point, Councilman Ronnie Steine, who carried the water for Mayor Karl Dean's administration on the legislative proposal, characterized colleague Eric Crafton — of notorious English Only fame — as his "friend." One with whom he rarely agreed, but a friend nonetheless.
Crafton, knowing he was doomed, nevertheless made an earnest and futile appeal to his cohorts to allow a public referendum on the convention center question, which would have cost about $300,000 and had no effect on the project's trajectory once the council passed it. "We weren't really elected to make billion-dollar decisions," he said, drawing chortles by characterizing council members as more equipped to deal with sidewalks, constituent calls and "the chipper" service than matters of enormous civic import.
Steine argued that the convention center debate needed to be retired, that its longevity had preceded the tenure of many of his Metro Council cohorts. "For some of us this process began over a decade ago. I wish the broader political discourse was more civil on both sides. Here in this body, we get it. Honorable people can view the same issue differently."
Steine went on to quote former Metro Council staff director and legal advisor Don Jones, saying, "Nashville is what it is because of the Metro Council, not in spite of the Metro Council. I couldn't agree with that more."
And almost to the one, those lawmakers who took to their microphones stressed how much they "loved" Nashville and "believed" in their city (as in, "I love Nashville, and that's why I'm going to vote against the convention center," or "I love Nashville, and that's why I'm supporting the convention center.")
Meanwhile, the day of decision for the largest capital project in Tennessee history brought a good bit of related intrigue, including the revelation that The Tennessean gave $15,000 over three years to the coalition of businesses who flexed their muscles to get the project approved.
Strangely, The Tennessean was the first to report about the coalition's release of its donor list. Perhaps not so strangely, that coverage included nary a mention of the contribution. (The newspaper, did, however, mention it in its Wednesday morning story.)
"I was unaware of the contribution — and editors, reporters and editorial writers were unaware of that contribution as well," Tennessean editor Mark Silverman told Post Politics. "Fact is, the business side of media operations — almost all media operations — support business or community campaigns from time to time without any newsroom knowledge or involvement. In no way has the contribution had an impact on our editorial position or our coverage of the convention center. I was as surprised as you were."
Nevertheless, the announcement couldn't help but cast the paper's resounding endorsement of the convention center in an unclean light, leading readers, public officials and others to wonder where the paper's reportorial role ends and where its civic advocacy begins. (The City Paper also endorsed the proposal, but parent company SouthComm didn't reach into its pocket when the coalition's hat was passed.)
Then there was the little matter of six Metro Council members being subpoenaed Tuesday by Tower Investments to testify in that company's challenge of its property being taken by eminent domain to make way for the convention center. Those who were served papers include members on both political sides of the project — supporters Kristine LaLonde, Megan Barry and Jim Forkum and the three "evildoers," as they have taken to jokingly call themselves: opponents Mike Jameson, Emily Evans and Jason Holleman.
Members believe they'll be asked at an upcoming hearing about the legislative body's deliberations and proceedings in the land condemnation case.
Says Jameson of the convention center discord: "I'm afraid it's going to be the gift that keeps on giving."
Council members who voted against the funding: Michael Craddock, Jamie Hollin, Mike Jameson, Jim Gotto, Eric Crafton, Emily Evans, Jason Holleman, Randy Foster and Robert Duvall.
Carter Todd abstained, and James Bruce Stanley did not vote.
Email editor@nashvillescene.com.
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