Mayor Tim Davlin is full of surprises, especially when it comes to his reorganization plan for city government. It seems every time it’s presented–four times now?–it has involved the same kind of intense, down-to-the-wire effort as a college student’s mid-term project: delivered on time, but with the paper peculiarly warm, like it just came off the photocopy machine.
The original proposal, presented on Davlin’s 100th day in office at a press conference announced less than 24 hours earlier, was so fresh that neither Davlin nor his transition team chairman Joe Wilkins had actually seen the spiral-bound report. The ordinance that would enact all the changes recommended by the transition team was done just in time to be verbally added as a “first read” item to the council’s agenda on September 16, making it eligible for final passage last Tuesday night.
But, once again, the necessary papers arrived just as alderman settled down to business. Later in the meeting, Corporation Counsel Jenifer Johnson distributed copies of the inch-thick document as council members were poised to vote on the ordinance.
This new amendment was massive. It eliminated the Office of Public Infrastructure–a proposal that would have combined Public Works and City Water Light and Power into one mega-agency all under the control of Davlin’s longtime friend and fund-raiser Todd Renfrow. It was common knowledge that the vote on the reorganization ordinance would be close and, despite the council’s nonpartisan status, probably follow party lines. But one Democrat–probably Frank McNeil–made his vote contingent upon the removal of that provision.
Because the Office of Public Infrastructure had been mentioned so many times in the reorganization ordinance, the amendment removing it meant making changes on more than 100 pages. When Johnson plopped the heavy stack of stuff in front of each alderman, they reacted as though she had delivered them each a live skunk.
Alderman Irv Smith quickly moved to table the amendment. In a close vote–4 to 6, with alderman Judy Yeager muttering that she had pushed the wrong button and couldn’t get her vote to change–the motion failed. (Frank Kunz, Joe Bartolomucci, Irv Smith, and Bruce Strom voted for the delay).
Then, almost before anybody knew what was happening, the mayor called for a decision on the amendment itself. Bartolomucci refused to vote, holding up the pile of papers and saying, “You hand this to us five minutes before we’re supposed to vote on it?”
Davlin ignored him.
“Is everyone done voting–everyone that wants to vote? Aldermen?” the mayor asked, looking around. “And the motion passes six voting aye, four voting no.”
As predicted, the tally displayed party loyalties, with all the Republicans except Bartolomucci (Frank Edwards, Smith, Yeager, and Strom) voting against the amendment, and all the Democrats–including Davlin–voting in favor.
But just when it seemed the reorganization ordinance was unstoppable, somebody stuck his foot out. Within seconds of the amendment’s passage, Kunz spoke up:
“I will at this time move that we postpone the vote [on the ordinance] until next City Council,” he said. “Those that wanna read the amendment can read it. . . . “
There were a few murmurs of protest from Kunz’s fellow Democrats–the mayor and aldermen Tom Selinger and Chuck Redpath.
“I think it’s pretty obvious that five of them don’t want to vote. They know what infrastructure is,” Davlin said.
“Then fine. They can come in here in October and it’ll be a 6-5 vote or whatever it may be,” Kunz responded, going on to explain that he was making his motion as a courtesy because he knew what it felt like to be run over by a steamroller. “I sat on this City Council, I had these type of things done to me while I was sitting here. . . . “
Just then, he was interrupted by another Democrat, Mark Mahoney.
“I second it,” Mahoney said quietly. And the motion to postpone Davlin’s reorganization ordinance passed 8-2 (Edwards and Selinger voted against the delay).
It’s possible that–for the five or ten minutes it took to wrangle over this ordinance–the local municipal channel 18 was the best thing on TV. But was it anything more than drama?
Afterwards, talking to reporters in the hallway, Davlin repeated what he has
said for months: that he has been running city government according to this
plan since he took office. If so, that would mean that Renfrow has been in charge
of most city employees since April, and that Letitia Dewith-Anderson–initially
named Chief of Staff, aka deputy mayor, making her for a brief time the highest
ranking black in the history of Springfield city government–really never was
anything more than “executive assistant.” Who needs an ordinance?
This article appears in Oct 2-8, 2003.
