@startleseasily is a fervent observer of the Metro government's comings and goings. In this column, "On First Reading," she'll recap the bimonthly Metro Council meetings and provide her analysis. You can find her in the pew in the corner by the mic, ready to give public comment on whichever items stir her passions. Follow her on Twitter here.
Yes, there were Nazis in the courthouse on Tuesday.
But when I think back on that night, I don’t want to remember the Nazis. I want to remember the way everyone banded together to keep each other safe and to send a message that love wins out in the end.
It’s cheesy, I know. I’m not usually this earnest. But seeing people supporting each other through a difficult experience can bring out the cheese in the most jaded of us.
Councilmember Suara orders chamber gallery cleared after disruptions by a dozen loosely organized white supremacists
I got more hugs Tuesday night than I’ve gotten in a long time. Some I asked for. Some were unsolicited. There was just a sense that we needed each other at that moment. Like maybe, by holding each other close, we could provide a sort of protective force field from the hatred echoing out in the chamber.
There’s strength in numbers.
A Glitch in the Matrix
One of the most hotly debated items of the night — a bill from Councilmember Joy Styles that would’ve added a councilmember to the Metro Arts Commission and ensured that the Metro Council gets final approval of arts funding criteria — produced a series of procedural glitches the likes of which I haven’t seen in ... at least a couple of months.
Vice Mayor Angie Henderson inexplicably decided to change an amendments process that, by all accounts, was working just fine before Tuesday. Despite Henderson’s best efforts to explain her intentions, the revamped procedure wasted more time than it ever could have saved.
“Oh, as we talked it all through, and here we are,” Henderson sighed at one particularly vexing juncture, laughing weakly before charging ahead with a charming “okie dokes.”
And after all that, Styles ended up withdrawing the bill.
Styles’ decision to withdraw was prompted by an unwelcome amendment from Councilmember At-Large Delishia Porterfield. The amendment removed the provision that would’ve added a councilmember to the commission. It was approved by a slim majority of 16-14, with four members abstaining.
In pitching her amendment, Porterfield warned of the potential for “undue influence” by councilmembers and directed the body’s attention to two letters from sitting arts commissioners who opposed Styles’ legislation. One of those commissioners was secretary Heather Lefkowitz, who just the day before had urged the commission’s executive committee to remain neutral on the bill.
With Porterfield’s amendment approved, Styles was left holding the bag on a bill she didn’t want to run. So she withdrew it, vowing to try again later.
Please Be Serious
As you may know, governments get sued a lot. The council routinely approves settlements of lawsuits against Metro for relatively small amounts.
On Tuesday, the council approved a rare six-figure settlement: $545,806.66, to be exact. With that, Metro will settle the claim of Maggie Lawrence, a former deputy fire marshal, who sued the city for discrimination in 2022 and won in a jury trial.
In 2021, after spending about three decades at the Metro Fire Department, then-63-year-old Lawrence was passed over for a promotion to fire marshal. Fire Chief William Swann instead hired a much younger white man who, according to Lawrence’s lawsuit, had never worked in a fire marshal’s office.
Lawrence, a Black woman, suspected discrimination. So she secretly recorded a meeting with the fire chief, which is honestly badass (and legal, as Tennessee is a one-party consent state).
In the recording, Swann says, “It would not be smart of me to put someone in that position, at that level, and they’re not going to be here but for the next few years.”
Lawrence’s lawsuit stated that she had received stellar performance reviews in the past. In fact, Chief Swann apparently had such confidence in her work that he instructed her to train the new guy to do the job she got passed over for.
In responding to councilmembers’ questions about the settlement Tuesday night, Metro Legal implied that, actually, Lawrence wasn’t a model employee. It’s just that the fire marshal’s office didn’t keep great records, so all of her not-so-stellar reviews were missing. Oh, and also, the fire department did nothing wrong.
“This was a problem of proof, rather than a problem of policy,” Metro Legal attorney Ben Puckett told the council. “We felt strongly at the time, and we still feel strongly, that the fire department made the right decision, and they didn’t discriminate.”
Let me repeat that: Metro Legal, having been confronted in court with some of the most damning audio one could produce in a case about age discrimination, said, “Nope, no issue here. Jury just didn’t side with us. You can’t win ’em all.”
Please be so fucking for real right now.
Political Theater
Councilmember Courtney Johnston notched another talking point for her congressional campaign, when two members of the council objected to suspension of the rules for a late-filed resolution to condemn the attempted assassination of Donald Trump.
To Johnston’s credit, she does refer to Trump in the resolution as the “former President,” which I think makes her a moderate by default in today’s Republican Party.
Johnston released a statement decrying this “vile action by extremists on the council.” Councilmember Ginny Welsch, one of the two who objected to hearing the resolution on Tuesday, tells the Scene, “Donald Trump has been fomenting violence for years, and that he was touched by those calls for violence is unfortunate, but not unexpected.”
“I reject division and violence by all means,” Welsch continues, “and that includes not trying to lionize someone who has built his career on using violence as a means to an end.”
Metro Councilmember Courtney Johnston takes on incumbent U.S. Rep. Andy Ogles for the Republican vote
After failing to get the resolution before the body, Johnston promptly picked up her things and left the chamber, less than an hour into the meeting.
Johnston has three plum assignments on powerful council committees: Budget and Finance, Rules and Charter Revision. Since announcing her run for Congress in April, Johnston, who has no history of excessive absences, has missed about half of the Budget and Finance Committee Meetings; she’s missed seven out of nine Rules Committee meetings; and she hasn’t attended a single one of the seven Charter Revision Committee meetings.
On the council floor, she’s missed three of eight meetings since her announcement and has left early for another two meetings, including her near-immediate departure on Tuesday.
I spoke with two residents who live in Johnston’s council district about her absences. One, who prefers to remain anonymous, was “surprised” by Johnston’s recent attendance record. When Johnston first announced her congressional run, the resident says, “Some constituents expressed their sadness of potentially losing her a council rep, and her response was not to worry about that as she had that covered.”
Cynthia Klauber, a Berry Hill resident who was drawn into Johnston’s district after the 2020 Census, was “hopeful for a responsive and involved representative even if we didn’t agree on some things.” Klauber says Johnston used to provide timely updates on her Facebook page — at least concerning the Crieve Hall and Paragon Mills neighborhoods in her district — but communication has fallen off since Johnston announced.
“My perception is she is far less involved on council this term,” says Klauber. “I am losing hope that she is staying up to date on her favored parts of her district, let alone the far corners of it.”
Vice Mayor Henderson, who makes committee assignments, wouldn’t comment specifically on Johnston’s case, opting instead to provide a more general comment: “Attendance does factor into my decisions about committee appointments and leadership.”
Johnston didn’t respond to a request for comment.
It’s hard to be a conservative bastion against the tide of leftist extremism if you’re never around.
