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Editor’s NoteEyes Wide Shutby Anne SchindlerBully. Browbeat. Humiliate. Hector. These were the four horsemen of the political apocalypse that was last Tuesday’s City Council meeting. For those who didn’t have the privilege of watching the eight-hour marathon meeting, suffice it to say it was a debacle — an ugly, inside-the-sausage-factory tour of our legislators at work. The council has never been what you would call a slick bunch of operators. They favor windy presentations and have a tendency to bumble. They aren’t good speakers, smart dressers or even especially polite. They are, for the most part, people who have the patience to sit through long meetings and win the backing of moneyed special interests. It is the mercy of this community that allows them to continue plowing their narrow path — on the taxpayer’s dime — with little interference. But occasionally, an issue comes before the council that residents really care about. And the extra attention throws into stark relief this body’s failings. Tuesday was one such occasion. We’ll put aside for a moment the council president’s decision to kick out (again) the city’s leading black activist, along with a few dozen kids who’d been promised jobs from the city but got nothing. It was a civic embarrassment, and a strong example of how different standards apply to black youth in all cases. But it wasn’t a decision made by a majority of legislators. On the contrary, the decision to approve a new subdivision in the middle of the Timucuan Preserve was made by 14 councilmembers (only Lynette Self and Glorious Johnson voted against it). The vote will allow an environmentally damaging and wildly inconsistent land-use and zoning change on Black Hammock Island, along with 143 luxury homes. The decision pleased an influential developer, Paul Fletcher, his paid shills, and those on the council clamoring for more “executive housing” in the area. It displeased virtually everyone else, from the city’s own Planning Department (which rejected the project as inappropriate) to the state agency charged with reviewing land-use amendments (which said it violated the city’s comprehensive plan). The development also drew strenuous objections from dozens of residents who came Tuesday to speak against the proposal. Undeterred by the three-and-a-half-hour wait, these citizens waited patiently for their allotted-three-minute window in order to express — in clear, scientifically compelling and often passionate presentations — how bad they felt the project was. One would think that the council would be inspired by this outpouring of civic participation. One would at least think that the council would listen with respect and deference to the citizens they were elected to represent. One would be wrong. Instead, the council — impeccably prepared by the developer’s talking points (11 councilmembers admitted having “ex parte” communications with the developer’s lobbyists before the meeting) — willfully ignored science, planning data and the wishes of the people. Led by the arrogant antics of At-Large City Councilmember Lad Daniels, the council took every opportunity to challenge, dispute and assail people who dared make their voices heard. It’s no surprise that Daniels has no respect for the citizens of Jacksonville. He didn’t even have to face voters in his first election — just raised enough money to scare off challengers. And he has never broken from the special interests that sent him to power; he remains president of the First Coast Manufacturing Association, whose interests are rarely in sync with citizens’. Daniels appeared to delight in impugning the credentials of those who spoke, including an employee of the state Department of Environmental Protection and a man who owns property in Black Hammock but who lives in Ponte Vedra Beach. Daniels also challenged anyone who appeared in an official capacity, like Barbara Goodman, superintendent of the Timucuan Preserve. Although Goodman introduced herself as “representing the National Park Service and the Timucuan Preserve,” Daniels pressed her on this, asking if she was, in fact, an “official representative of the Park Service.” When she said she was, he retorted, “Is it the policy of the Park Service to place restrictions on property it does not own?” Goodman responded that it was not — and began to say she had not done so. But Daniels cut her off. “That’s all,” he said. Daniels’ display apparently inspired his colleagues. Both Suzanne Jenkins and Reggie Fullwood rose to ask, once again, whether Goodman was “representing” the Park Service — whether her superiors knew what she was doing, whether they endorsed it. Councilmember Ronnie Fussell got into the spirit, too, using a slight misstatement by Goodman as an opportunity to humiliate, rather than simply correct her. It’s no mystery why councilmembers behaved this way. Like any schoolyard bully, they acted out of feelings of inadequacy and fear. Exposed for their fealty to developers, their disregard for the natural environment, their inability to handle a debate more nuanced than the cudgel of “property rights,” they reached for the only defense they could muster. Their shameful conduct didn’t hide their shameful vote, however. They chose McMansions over the Timucuan. They sacrificed an environmental jewel for the benefit of a wealthy developer. They promoted development at any cost. Most of all, they proved they don’t care what you think. #
Hard Truthsby Anne SchindlerIf there’s one thing Clay County government has hungered for, it’s one more white, middle-aged man in public office. Last week Gov. Jeb Bush heard the call and responded, appointing John Thrasher to replace indicted County Commissioner Christy Fitzgerald. Fitzgerald hasn’t done much to elevate gender politics, of course, having been removed from office after a grand jury charged her with five counts of petit theft and one count of official misconduct. Among her alleged offenses: using public works employees to fortify her home in advance of Hurricane Frances (a charge her attorney recently dismissed as a misunderstanding over “a few sandbags and two or three pieces of plywood”). Into the vacuum created by Fitzgerald’s involuntary departure comes Thrasher, the 62-year-old former speaker of the Florida House, and, not coincidentally, one of Gov. Bush’s best friends. He’s also among the most well-connected lobbyists in the state, a man whose client list includes Disney World, Time Warner and a slew of medical interests. If Thrasher’s clout seems outsized for a lil’-old county commission, it is. His years of lobbying and lawmaking have already earned him honors typically reserved for retirement from public life (like having the $19 million Thrasher-Horne Center for the Arts named after him). During the county’s illegal dumping scandal, he played the role of lawmaker emeritus, criticizing commissioners and suggesting the need for changes to the structure of county government. But it is his connections, not his experience that earned him the $55,000-a-year appointment. Thrasher readily acknowledged that Bush chose him because he’s a “known entity.” Whether it’s a good thing for the governor to use the buddy system to make political appointments, especially when trying to erase the stain of good-ol’-boy corruption and cronyism, is worth discussing. But Thrasher and Bush apparently have different views of how the appointment came about. When asked about the process, Thrasher told the County Line newspaper, “It kind of evolved.” “I shouldn’t say I wasn’t interested,” he added, “but I didn’t go looking for it.” But Bush told reporters that Thrasher asked for the job outright. “I would not have thought of it,” he said, but “I thought it was a great idea.” However it “evolved,” it’s strange that Thrasher would want to be a County Comissioner. Less than two months ago, he resigned from his job as Clay County’s official lobbyist, saying he didn’t have enough time to do it. Thrasher never did much as county lobbyist — the lack of return on the $3,000-a-month investment was a sore subject among some county lawmakers — but it certainly required less time than being a commissioner. (Thrasher has declined to give up lobbying while working for the county. As he jokingly told the Orlando Sentinel, “I’ve got to buy shoes for the grandchildren.”) Thrasher’s decision to insert himself into local politics is nothing new. He started his political career as a Clay County School Board member and has never gained much distance. Just last year, he asked for an appointment to the county’s Charter Review Commission. (As with the governor’s appointment, he denied requesting the job, saying only, “If asked, I probably would [serve].”) In announcing his decision last week, Gov. Bush expressed a desire to restore confidence to county government. He told reporters it was the “right thing” “given what is going on in Clay County right now to have someone of his stature, someone of his integrity, that can bring an even-tempered nature to the commission meetings.” Unfortunately, integrity has never been Thrasher’s strong suit. He kicked off his career as a state representative with a whopper of a conflict, lobbying his own statehouse colleagues as a paid shill for the Florida Medical Association, a Jacksonville-based group that donates heavily to political campaigns and lobbies on behalf of insurance companies. Although the state Constitution prohibits legislators from earning money by representing clients before the state, Thrasher lobbied for FMA, introduced bills that benefited FMA, even testified before the state Board of Medicine on behalf of his client. After the conflict of interest generated an ethics complaint, then-House Speaker Rudy Wallace dubbed Thrasher’s behavior “unethical” and advised the rookie lawmaker to “govern his future conduct accordingly.” Amazingly, Thrasher disregarded the warning, holding on to his $120,000-a-year FMA job for another three years. It wasn’t until 1996, when he was angling to become House Speaker, that he resigned (with a $250,000 parting gift from FMA). More recently, Thrasher refused to give up his seat on the Florida State University Board despite legislation banning lobbyists from serving on university governing boards. (Because he was a board member before the law passed, Thrasher deemed himself “grandfathered” in.) Apparently, none of that gave the governor pause. Bush overlooked five applicants for the job in order to pass a lollipop to his golf buddy. And Thrasher, without a shred of propriety, accepted. So, to recap: • It’s not what you know, but who you know. • Integrity is all perspective. • To the victor go the spoils. For the people of Clay County, who hoped the corruption scandal would yield systemic change — forget about it. Meet your new county commissioner. #
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