Before I begin, I would like to say two things. First, Gaspar Gonzalez approached me to tell me how offensive is my demeanor, how unlikeable I am, and particularly how disrespectful I am in calling Commissioners by their first names. Guilty as charged, to all of it. (Guilty to calling Commissioners by their first names. Some are personal friends, and the rest I simply know. That's what happens in a tiny municipality. Although Gaspar likes to interpret disrespect in my way of addressing people I know, that is his game. But if he's so delicate, I have no need to discomfit him.) So I have resolved to show more respect, and I will from now on refer to Commissioners by their proper titles and names.
Second, I had a friend visiting from out of town this past week. She is aware of my blog, has read it, and I have described our little goings-on to her. I don't miss Commission meetings if I'm in town, and I offered her the chance not to waste her time. She "wouldn't miss it." She concluded after the meeting that the personnel and dynamics were exactly as I have described them, to her surprise. So I'm glad I have not misled or distorted. As for the topic at hand...
In the Commission meeting of May 1, 2012, Noah Jacobs informed us that the Village is not a democracy. It is a Republic. Although it is not clear what distinction he was drawing, his somewhat arresting assertion deserves some scrutiny. Republics are generally understood to be countries, or "States," not States like the 50 United States. There doesn't seem to be much precedent for a State among states being a Republic, and certainly not a municipality within a state. But what is perhaps more at issue is how we think about the leader of a Republic. Although according to my new resolution I should refer to Noah as Mayor Jacobs, his title according to the Charter of the one-time Village of Biscayne Park, it is likely I would be understating his importance, and showing all the disrespect of which Gaspar (Dr Gonzalez) accuses me, if I did not refer to Noah as President Jacobs. So until I hear differently from our Head of State, I will dutifully refer to him as President Jacobs. The alternative is that I challenge President Jacobs and tell him that in my opinion, having read our Charter, I think we are not a Republic. But this in itself might be unbearably disrespectful. Disrespecting President Jacobs can be a dangerous business.
Commissioner Ross knows what happens when President Jacobs doesn't get the respect to which he considers himself due. In the past, when she was Mayor Ross, she felt the future President's wrath. Last month, after he had dethroned her, she felt it again. Both times, she spoke when he didn't want her to, and she failed to provide direct and dutiful answers to his provocative, and even irrelevant, questions. He fumed, he raged, he drowned her out. He mocked her. He tried his best to silence her, only stopping short of having her removed. He is prone to rather ugly temper tantrums.
With others, too, he can be ruthless in his dismissals and suppressions. In my case, he has silenced me on more than one occasion, and was imperious in so doing. For whatever were the President's reasons, he was more tolerant of Chuck Ross, who was permitted to go over time to finish a thought. Others are treated even more cordially, depending, it seems, on the President's mood.
Our President is not schooled in the art of presiding over a meeting of Commissioners. He is frequently tutored by his informal council of Advisors, chief among them the Attorney of the Republic. But these tutorials seem to have about as much impact as what is commonly jokingly said of the satiation-inducing capacity of Chinese food. The President seems never able to retain the idea that a second is needed before discussion can begin, that public comment must precede Commission discussion regarding Ordinances, under what circumstances the vote must be a roll call vote, and that he cannot simply "call the question" whenever he has tired of the prattlings of the Commissioners. Funny enough, though, at one point he decided it was the moment for him to hand the gavel to his right hand aide, Vice Mayor Dr Barbara Watts, and he was practically erupting in suggestions for her as to how to call upon him for his contributions.
The end of the meeting was another demonstration of the President's whims, his personal touches. When his colleagues bored him, he moved yet again to "call the question." The Attorney for the Republic tried, yet again, to tell him that he could not call the question until everyone had spoken. For the listener in the audience, this concept seems almost simple and straightforward. Evidently, there are subtleties and complexities only the President understands. It wasn't at all simple or straightforward to him. In the midst of this discussion, which also involved Commissioner Ross' effort to preserve her chance to finish a discussion, and a thought, it was realized that the 11:00 meeting limit had expired, and the meeting was in fact over. A motion was offered, to extend the meeting 30 minutes, and the President was inclined to accept this motion. The Attorney for the Republic, however, pointed out that the meeting was statutorily over, and no motion could be offered, voted on, or accepted, even by Presidential fiat. Pish, tosh! This is not some small town Mayor we're dealing with. This is the President of a Republic. The President of RBP:J. The meeting was continued for 30 minutes.
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