No one ever said public governing would be pretty. And this year's budget process was enough to make even the most strident advocates of good government long for the days of illicit gatherings at the vice mayor's house. After last week, it's hard not to miss those golden good old (boy) days, when policy was debated and decided in secret and everybody showed up on Tuesday night to rubber-stamp it.
The snarl of chaos and confusion that gave birth to a new budget and the tax hikes that will fund it—all that clumsy horse-trading and poor parliamentary maneuvering—was downright scary to watch, in person or on TV. Maybe it's not meant for the light of day after all. That seemed to be the logic of some council members, who decided to avoid the messy business of the people by working together in unannounced gatherings—a violation of the state open meetings law.
They gathered at City Hall—"all in council rooms, all open to the public," according to at-large council member Adam Dread—so their meetings were open to the public, they say. That's at least a step in the direction of transparency, but nonetheless illegal: meetings must be announced publicly in advance, according to the law, so people whose lives might be affected by these deliberations can attend. Oh, and other council members, too.
A peek into email correspondence between council members, in particular among the handful who jointly proposed an alternative "cost of living" budget, which they termed COLA, reveals a team strategy designed to derail the Budget and Finance Committee's budget in favor of their own. But mostly it just shows what boneheads they are.
"Statesmen: Great news on the battlefront!" boomed General Charlie Tygard in a June 15 message to 16 of his colleagues. "[D]on't be mislead by the threats of laying off 1,000's of teachers, policemen, firefighters, etc.—Don [Jones, council staff director] said that won't happen—notice how they never mention laying off non-essential positions—which is more important to our constituents—a deputy mayor or 3 teachers?
"Expect the heat to be turned up—more have mentioned the Mayor wants to meet—just do it—expect to be offered anything (promotions in the police & fire, a park or sidewalk, etc)—you have decide what is most important and whether your committment to stay the course means anything.... If we can get to the magical 21 willing to sign on and stand up at a press conference en mass, you'll be shocked at how many others might want to sip the cola and forego the champagne! It's summertime—expect a little heat! Just be smart & use PF 14.5million sunblock! Charlie."
Later that afternoon, Dread replied to all recipients of Tygard's email: "Dear Colleagues—I would appreciate everyone's help in trimming fat off of the E-911 Budget today. Here are a few things I would like to see happen...." He then proceeded to list three specific funding cuts before concluding, "Bottom line. I am going to 'wish' around 1 million wasted dollars away from E-911...."
Councilman Chris Whitson, clearly the brains of the reasonably coherent COLA operation, sent a motivational email the following Friday to five colleagues: "Randy: We are close, and I feel momentum on our side," he wrote, addressing Metro Council member Randy Foster. "The FOP is very interested. Proud to be associated with you men (I can hear Gotto's ringtone in the background.). Chris."
The rest of the emails are just plain old entertaining. There's Foster's email to Tygard, under the subject line "I have been summoned...": "His Honor has expressed a desire to meet with me," Foster wrote. "He must truly be desperate."
Truly.
District 4's Michael Craddock sent his share of ill-advised emails as well. One sent to Whitson on June 8 makes light of an audit that revealed misspent activity funds in Metro schools: "uh oh!" he wrote. "You know they say timing is everything." And there were touching ones: "I can take the heat, as long as I know I have friends," he wrote to his buddies in reply to Tygard's group email.
And then there were Craddock's plain old sophomoric missives, like the one titled, "At the end of round 2" and scores "Eric 2, Kathy 0"—presumably a reference to the back-and-forth between Crafton and school board member Kathy Nevill. That pearl of wisdom contained a link to the "Let's get ready to rumble" guy's website, with instructions to "turn your volume up."
Finally, we return to Tygard, who on June 13 chided colleague David Briley in an email to the entire council: "Maybe what this at-large member needs to learn is a lesson from my momma years ago—'If you can't say something nice about someone, don't say it!' "
Ten days later, Tygard sent an email to two colleagues, copied to a council staff member, about a picnic they were organizing for the whole body. "[D]o we need tablecloths or can David Briley eat on the ground?" he asked.
Guess Tygard forgot momma's advice.
