GIVE GAHAN THE BOOT: (Tuesday) Gahan the faux historic preservationist demolishes the historic structure -- with abundant malice.

Last week was Harvest Homecoming, and my city's favorite festival kept me pinned to the tarmac, but now we're back to what passes for normal here in New Gahania, where "We're All Here Because We're Not All THERE."

This week as a run-up to Decision 2019, I'm headed back into the ON THE AVENUES archive for five straight days of devastatingly persuasive arguments against four more years of the Gahan Family Values™ Personality Cult.

I've already made the argument for Mark Seabrook as mayor. Now let's return to the voluminous case against Gahanism in five informative and entertaining installments.

In the following saga of the demolition of Haughey's Tavern in the autumn of 2014, you'll see all the elements of virulent Gahanism falling into place. There is the mayor's instinct for self-deification, his pathological secrecy, and the bullying of subordinates (note that John Gonder was targeted for defeat by his own party in 2015 owing to this and other examples of independent thinking).

Another fascinating repercussion of the Haughey's fix in 2014 is fully applicable to the Reisz Mahal boondoggle in 2018.

Greg Sekula of Indiana Landmarks called Gahan's bluff the first time, so when the mayor needed to reverse field and lie shamelessly and publicly about his historic preservation credentials in order to bring about the luxury city hall expenditure, he staged a creative end-around.

Payhan simply bought off the preservationist bloc with the bait of the old Baity funeral home (now serving as Landmarks headquarters), then deployed a pliant and enfeebled David Barksdale (a presumed Republican) as the fifth "aye" in a controversial city council vote.

We don't term Gahan's milieu a swamp for nothing.

GIVE GAHAN THE BOOT: (Monday) The Reisz Mahal luxury city hall, perhaps the signature Gahan boondoggle.

GIVE GAHAN THE BOOT: (Tuesday) Gahan the faux historic preservationist demolishes the historic structure -- with abundant malice.

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October 2, 2014

ON THE AVENUES: Now on tap at the ghost of Haughey's Place: The politics of pure spite.

Whether or not it's historic isn't really relevant. Randomly tearing down what for all we know is a perfectly salvageable, useful commercial building in a neighborhood that needs them isn't cleaning up. It's just destroying assets, a waste in itself. If there's a rational case to be made for why the building isn't usable, no one from the City has made it.

The mayor says there's a post-demolition plan for the lot but it's a secret that can't be revealed to the neighborhood. Councilman Phipps, who represents the neighborhood, says there is not a plan, or maybe there is, and, if there is one, he shouldn't really tell us what it is anyway.

There's far more dirtying up than cleaning up going on.

-- Jeff Gillenwater, on Facebook

“The values to which people cling most stubbornly under inappropriate conditions are those values that were previously the source of their greatest triumphs.”

-- Jared Diamond, in "Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed"

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In the frustrating weeks prior to the pre-ordained demolition of the historic Haughey tavern building at 922 Culbertson, numerous efforts were made by this blog to coax someone/anyone in city government to explain the sudden haste in destroying it, apart from the purely shambolic and theatrical "public safety" subterfuges, repeated like bureaucratic mantras, over and over again.

Even the customarily somnolent newspaper ventured a few sparsely tepid inquiries, although as usual, it couldn’t locate an editorial standpoint amid the profusion of rollover videos.

There were many questions, and the city batted them all away, preferring to conduct its predatory business in private, via a combination of overweening silence and condescending press releases.

Disturbingly, our 3rd district councilman Greg Phipps also took a vacuous pass on the topic, resorting to startlingly evasive academic sophistry when directly questioned about plans for the future of the cleared space, all this despite numerous substantive explanations of the building's value, both in a contemporary sustainable neighborhood sense (Gillenwater’s oft-repeated remarks above) and by area journalists without snarky bones to pick (see "Historic Culbertson tavern demolished", by Baylee Pulliam in the Courier-Journal)

All such efforts at transparence came abruptly to rest at what has become the single enduring symbol of Jeff Gahan's mayoral administration: A big, honking, impermeable stone wall.

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Afterward, as the fully jigged dust was settling over the rubble, Gahan finally released his explanation, announcing what we'd all suspected was true from the start: A top secret agreement already was in place for an as yet undisclosed builder to erect two houses on the lot – hence the many rumors postulating Habitat for Humanity’s involvement, which were denied by the organization, but now can be seen as harbingers of a fix, all in.

We don't know who’ll be building these houses, or why this information could not be released before 922 Culbertson came to earth. Maybe it since has been announced in classic governmental fait accompli fashion, as filtered on Facebook by city hall’s chosen content provider, or hidden somewhere within daytime commission meeting minutes.

But make no mistake: This quote by Mayor Gahan surely speaks volumes.

“After the construction of these homes are completed, no one will miss the dilapidated structure that was at 922 Culbertson Ave.”

You’ll note Gahan's presumptive use of the term "dilapidated."

It is a characteristically passive/aggressive way of having the last word in a contest of wills, which few community members ever knew took place. His choice of post-mortem language, aimed at mocking the building's presumed decay, is telling. It is anti-intellectual, and it is an intentional dig at his critics.

Gahan could not bring himself to reveal details of this bold, shining path of a future for the corner lot as justification before irrevocably removing a piece of New Albany's drinking history, but evidently there was a “plan” all along, and our own councilman was bizarrely willing to abet the charade by assuaging his suburban aesthetic sensibilities.

Unfortunately, there always will be questions as to the nature of the presumed decay. How dilapidated was it? As Jeff Gillenwater wrote:

There's been no evidence provided by the City or anyone else that it's rotting apart. The building has never been publicly marketed like a regular property to potential buyers. The proposed sale price has never been publicly shared.

So... we don't know what kind of shape it's actually in, what the price is, or how any stipulations put on the property by the City might be defined.

Based on not telling the public what specifically is wrong with the building and needs to be fixed and not really ever trying to sell it at a known price that reflects repair needs, city officials have somehow - magic, perhaps - determined there's no interest in it.

This knowledge, if any, was kept safely controlled within the inner sanctum. The city wouldn’t release it, and the council (perhaps excepting John Gonder) didn’t care to ask about it.

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The Green Mouse did some digging, and he reports that at least some aspects of the 922 Culbertson anti-transparency debacle might be explained by Gahan's determination to establish authority over the Indiana Landmarks Foundation and its local overseer, Greg Sekula.

According to insiders, Sekula took Gahan to task early in the pre-programmed 922 Culbertson demolition farce, demanding that the mayor protect the building after he learned that siding and other architectural elements were being harvested from the structure. Sekula then went public to demand that Landmarks be given time to broker a preservative outcome.

It’s all too clear, isn't it?

With the mayor having conceded moments after the demolition that a mysterious, secret infill “plan” was in place all along, and with the very existence of this unrevealed plan neatly explaining the city’s ongoing reluctance to clearly explicate the building’s presumed decay – again, other than to insist that the same “public safety” concerns currently unenforced on hazardous one-way streets pressingly applied to this one, lone building sans any semblance of due diligence – it is obvious that Sekula made the error of fatally intruding into what was, in effect, a finished deal, one done dirt cheap in timeless and enduring New Albany civic fashion.

The result? Vindictiveness, an iron fist, and the loss of something irreparable. The Green Mouse’s contact had this to say:

Sekula daring to do his job apparently violated Gahan’s principles, because he “owns” the town since being elected God of New Albany, and so Landmarks gets nothing from now on, even if they offer up the best plan. Gahan was defied, and that’s now allowed, and so he has turned his guns on Landmarks, and Sekula especially. It's fine by me. Now that the rats are devouring one another, maybe there actually is something to karma.

What remains in the wake of 922 Culbertson's demise? For starters, there's an administration sworn to pathological secrecy, displaying a pervasive need to control information that approaches Nixonian proportions.

There's also a question of whether we have a participatory city council in any coherent sense. When was the last time that the council president Pat McLaughlin could be seen to veer from city hall’s proscribed diktat-of-the-moment? To be sure, Gonder has dared to do so -- and now finds himself on the municipal “shit list,” to be excluded even further from insight into state secrets.

The “shit list” continues to grow, and those of us inhabiting it may need to relocate to a more expansive holding pen. Maybe it’s time for us to buy a dorm fridge, paper plates, some picture frames and furniture, and decorate a bit.

Does anyone know where those 922 Culbertson fixtures are being stored?

ON THE AVENUES: Histrionic preservation? $8.5 million to gift Jeff Gahan with a new city hall "want" is inexcusable and simply obscene in a time of societal need.

ON THE AVENUES: Histrionic preservation? $8.5 million to gift Jeff Gahan with a luxury city hall "want" is simply obscene in a time of societal need. 

A weekly column by Roger A. Baylor.

I'm making up for the vacation day two weeks ago. For this afternoon's follow-up post, go here.

Back in 2014, Mayor Jeff Gahan had a prime opportunity to advance historic preservation.

A noted local contractor was willing to renovate the 150-year-old tavern building at 922 Culbertson Avenue, once doing business as Haughey’s Place, and known to a later generation as Al-Mel's. According to an oral understanding between the contractor and City Hall, Haughey’s was to be rehabilitated into the sort of street corner fixture our neighborhoods so desperately need.

Alas, poor Haughey's.

Unknown to most, a top-secret, in-house plan already was gestating to subsidize New Directions to build four houses in long-vacant lots across the street from Haughey's, and after a brief lull for campaign finance ciphering, our distinguished C-minus student/mayor abruptly reneged on saving the tavern, instead ordering the demolition of this longtime community gathering place.

ON THE AVENUES: A year later, the backroom politics of pure spite at Haughey’s Tavern still reek. (2015)

ON THE AVENUES: Now on tap at the ghost of Haughey's Place: The politics of pure spite. (2014)

Two more houses were added to the New Directions mandate, to be built atop the tavern’s vanquished, naked footprint. In 2015, to the surprise of absolutely no one, flash cards of these six finished houses (weirdly dubbed "painted ladies" by prudes unaware of prostitution's age-old vernacular) became one of Gahan’s prime re-election platform planks. Obviously, vacuous propaganda of this ilk was the primary reason for the tavern’s demolition in the first place.

Do you remember what our Genius of the Flood Plain said about the death sentence he handed to Haughey’s?

“After the construction of these homes are completed, no one will miss the dilapidated structure that was at 922 Culbertson Avenue.”

Sensitive self-monetizer, isn't he?

Four years later, these six pleasant, ordinary houses haven't made so much as a dent in terms of the city’s affordable housing crisis, and Gahan's brief, tepid interest in the topic had evaporated even before he began giggling with a poo-bah's childlike delight at his brilliant stratagem of targeting vulnerable populations at the New Albany Housing Authority for eviction and dispersal. The mayor's signature public housing putsch was greeted with fawning, slobbering approval by the Democratic Party's semi-literate bookless bootlickers.

It's June, 2018, and peak Gahanism has arrived. The Leaden Anchor-Laden Emperor has decreed that housing conditions for his staff outweigh the needs of the many, and so it seems inevitable that the “dilapidated” and “neglected” Reisz Furniture building on Main Street not only will escape the tavern’s dismal fate, but is singularly worthy of conversion into a brilliant new showpiece City Hall, one destined to gather many gushing state and national preservation awards, and some sweet day, bear the mayor’s name in awestruck tribute.

The backroom deals seemingly have been cut, the dupes corralled, and the necessary votes secured. Beaks are achieving optimal wetness. Of course, had Gahan concluded the opposite -- that a new parking garage, concert promotion bureau or gaping hole in the ground would be better to keep his gang of influence-peddlers in power -- then Reisz would have long since been reduced to rubble.

Histrionic preservationists should take pause, because it would be a mistake to rule out this purely conceivable outcome.

Other folks count sheep, Gahan enumerates wrecking balls -- and tree stumps, full-page magazine ads and anchor tattoos -- and Reisz might yet tumble earthward if the mayor doesn’t get his way.

Surely the snarling pre-emptive threats already have been transmitted via a brace of 2:00 a.m. phone calls to the minions, who silently curse the inconvenience as they bill to the mayor's dulcet coo. The envelopes are stuffed, and the globe keeps spinning.

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Whenever Gahan, a presumed Democrat, pontificates about the Reisz project being “a move to protect our history," I sadly recall the fate of Haughey’s and so many other remnants of the city’s past, buildings that might have been adaptively re-used, but didn’t meet the threshold of narcissistic grandiloquence demanded by the mayor’s ethics-free selective reasoning and laughably elevated self-image.

In a city more allergic to irony than pollen or ragweed, Gahan’s newfound tender concern for the historical imperatives of the Reisz building is profoundly ironic, too. Do you recall those two words, “dilapidated” and “neglect”?

They’re not mine.

Rather, they come straight from Dear Leader’s mouth, via the medium of Mike Hall, the Shadow Mayor & Big Word Interpreter & Imperial Court Food Taster, and they serve as the convenient excuse for Gahan to don his Halloween leftover Superman outfit and rescue this pathetically abused historic building from the scandalous clutches of its shirker owner, who after all, has allowed it to deteriorate to the current juncture of high urgency.

Except the neglectful "villain" in this instance has been remunerated far above market value for his stubbornness. The redevelopment commission surreptitiously gifted the Reisz’s purchase price of $390,000 to the city’s preferred contractor Denton Floyd -- by sheer coincidence, a firm frequently contributing to Gahan’s campaign war chest -- which duly passed the money to the Reisz building’s owner, who as Gahan himself concedes, rendered it dilapidated in the first place.

In consequence-free Nawbany, the words “miraculous government-enabled windfall bailout” spring immediately to mind.

Eagerly abetting Gahan’s desire to erect a lasting memorial to his shimmering and saintly benevolence is councilman David “Tunnel Vision” Barksdale, a thoroughly camouflaged Republican and prominent historic preservationist, who has let it be known that the Reisz building is so very important to the city that no cost is too great to “save” it.

To summarize, for at least thirty years the structure has rotted, but only now, with a crucial municipal election coming in 2019, does time suddenly become of the essence. The decision about Reisz must be made right away, with as little transparent public debate as possible, or else the city’s forward progress will be halted dead in its tracks.

And people still wonder why I’m cynical. 

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So it is that even by the perennially underachieving standards of New Albany political decision-making, proponents of the Reisz renovation have mustered weak, wearying and dubious arguments in support of this project.

For example, there’s the "wave the bloody shirt of macho civic pride" argument. Gahan asks how we can countenance our neglected and dilapidated (my words, not his) city department sycophants laboring in an outdated and cramped shambles of a shared city-county building owned by our mortal enemies in Floyd County government, who long ago supplanted heinous Jeffersonville as the proper object of patriotic New Albanian scorn.

In short: If the city doesn’t immediately get its own pad, that dastardly Mark Seabrook wins!

As such, Gahan proposes to improve and enlarge the work space in a future Reisz City Hall, but seriously, do a couple dozen city employees really need four times more office space in this age of the microchip, when administrative needs are ever more reduced and compacted?

Besides, no other City Hall rehousing options have been explored. None of the many other historic buildings in need of refurbishment have been considered, and new construction evidently is off the table. Not once has it been explained why the cavernous Reisz building is the only possible solution to an insignificant problem -- apart from “Big Daddy G says so.”

However, there are at least 8,500,000 solid reasons to be wary, because since the Reisz dream was announced less than a year ago, the annual cost to the city for these new digs already has more than doubled, to $570,000 per year on a handy 15-year, rent-to-own payment plan, with the necessity of TIF pledges as collateral.

Imagine how $570,000 each year might address the genuine needs of city residents, like decent housing, workforce training, transit choices or remedying our shrinking urban tree canopy. It might even finance the long overdue fulfillment of Gahan's pledge to institute rental property inspections, which he's hoping we've forgotten. We haven't. 

The most unconvincing argument of all comes from Barksdale, who claims this total investment of at least $8.5 million to provide enhanced luxury government space is fully justified because it will definitively prove at long last to skeptical townspeople that City Hall is willing to put “skin in the game.”

To support this breathtaking instance of middle school adolescent playground logic, Barksdale asserts that during the past decade, entrepreneurs and private investors have poured somewhere around $60 million into downtown.

Stopped analog clocks can be trusted twice a day, and Barksdale is correct; he may be lowballing the amount, but he's drawing a mistaken conclusion.

To understand why, consider that few, if any, of the incentives, abatements and giveaways routinely awarded by the city to corporate entities like Sazerac have yet to land in the deserving laps of these independent business operators.

They’ve gone it almost entirely alone, and an uncommon number have succeeded, and yet somehow from this reality Barksdale conjures an indie business community desperately begging the city to display insane fiscal profligacy by pumping $8.5 million into a single downtown building rather than into downtown as a whole.

It's an "all eggs into one basket" proposition, moving a small number of government employees already adequately housed a mere stone's throw away, while at the same time taking the Reisz building permanently off the tax rolls, and worse, foolishly depleting economic development resources to facilitate the wants of four-times-bigger government, as opposed to the needs of private sector employers, or more importantly, of ordinary citizens all over town who are struggling to make ends meet.

Barksdale’s elitist view of what constitutes "skin in the game" doesn't make sense. It's our "skin" as citizens, not his (or Gahan's). Simply stated, this is sheer, contrived, oblivious and unadulterated hokum.

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Councilman Scott Blair, an independent, sensibly suggests (to Deaf ears) that "putting skin in the game" might be more effective, and more prudent financially, if mayor and council worked together to prioritize the Reisz building's redemption via the private sector, with the city devoting reasonably-scaled dollops of economic development funds and subsidies to help someone else save the building and keep it taxable.

Blair understands that what downtown stakeholders don’t really need is $8.5 million devoted to the enhancement of mayoral megalomania, while masquerading as historic preservation fetishism. However, downtown stakeholders actually do need some skin, just not in the form of a government-only housing upgrade.

They need infrastructure improvements aimed at greater walkability, bikeability and access for the disabled.

They -- we -- need more residents living downtown ... fast and modern internet access ... grassroots programs for small business ... capable workers ... a structured plan for branding and marketing ... and two-way streets -- not like Gahan’s half-assed pavement enhancement expenditure last year, but in the form of reliable transparency and regular communication from, and with, City Hall itself.

Grassroots support, not trickle down; and moreover, stakeholders in the remainder of the city need these investments and innovations, as well.

Mark these words: Gahan's chronic neglect of the periphery, and his occasional colonial abuses of outlying neighborhoods (ask Mt. Tabor Road residents "why he's here") are about to become an important campaign issue for 2019.

If it’s true that a government building stuffed with government workers can be a viable tool for revitalization -- and this notion is highly debatable -- wouldn’t it be a better idea to move City Hall to the moribund Colonial Manor shopping center on Charlestown Road, thereby helping to revitalize a “neglected” corridor that really needs it?*

Overall, considering the many issues we face citywide, ask yourself truthfully: can $8.5 million to overhaul the Reisz building for government use, and government use alone, genuinely help resolve a single one of them?

No, and anyone who thinks ordinary New Albanians-on-the-street are clamoring for this potted project has descended into self-delusion. If put to a referendum, a new or remodeled City Hall would lose at least 70% - 30%. and every ranking political suit in town knows it, hence the cloak and dagger back alley pursuit of Gahan’s and Barksdale’s narrow and expensive goal.

I generally favor historic preservation, and it was a punch to the gut to watch the wrecking ball fell Haughey’s Tavern, but it's past the time for us to recognize that preservationists are not immune to jumping the shark.

Remember when the "cost be damned" necessity of the moment was a heroic crusade to save the tiny Emery's Ice Cream building?

I, too, advocate the rehabilitation of the Reisz, but in the rational and integrated fashion suggested by Scott Blair. A final council vote remains, and it’s still possible for reason to prevail if one of four councilmen, all Democrats, come back to earth: Nash, Phipps, Caesar or McLaughlin. Courage, anyone?

The lessons of the past also mustn’t be forgotten. Gahan’s rapacious, self-serving and politically motivated calculations have brought us to this absurd juncture.

In effect, the mayor is endorsing an equation whereby Barksdale and the historic preservationist contingent assert that the Reisz building must be saved at any cost, and by extension, only government can shoulder the burden of unlimited costs since limitless money is what government is here to provide for ideas precisely like this.

Boundless money ... and for what?

A building, not people.

This is the final, infuriating insult, and it is inexplicable to me that Barksdale and the lock-step community pillars being pushed to the lectern in support of this extravagance (although not Gahan himself, who as usual, hasn't bothered to appear publicly at all) blithely favor bilking taxpayers to the tune of $8.5 million to save this single building, but when they're asked about Gahan’s eagerness to demolish public housing units without a coherent plan to rehouse the flesh-and-blood humans who’ll be displaced, they no longer have anything to say, and head straight for the exits.

Eyes turn to the ceiling, crickets chirp and pins drop. Somewhere, a dog balefully yowls.

It's the silence of the shams.

They adore bright shiny objects, not so much the vulnerable. Glorious government buildings, not persons in need. Plaques for the self-anointed pillars, not assistance for the oppressed. Disney-fried grandiosity in bricks and mortar … not human beings.

Hypocrisy on this colossal scale unfortunately isn't novel in New Albany, though it's no less sickening when it flares.

However, we can rejoice, because in less than a year, there’ll be the opportunity to rectify the robotic empathy imbalance by way of the ballot's historically restorative power.

Until then, please call your councilman and ask him (they’re all men, you know, each and every one of them) to explain how an $8.5 million City Hall helps resolve anything at all -- and if they don't hang up on you, send their answers to NA Confidential.

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* with a nod to the Bookseller.

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Recent columns:

June 7: ON THE AVENUES: Taco Bell has as much to do with "local business" as Jeff Gahan does with "quality urban design principles."

There was no column on May 31.

May 24: ON THE AVENUES: Long live Keg Liquors Fest of Ale, an indisputable annual beer institution.

May 17: ON THE AVENUES: Ghosts within these stones, defiance in these bones.

Jeff Gahan's impressive historic building hypocrisy at this year's Facelift Awards.

Over at the pan-fried paper, Jerod Clapp quotes Mayor Jeff Gahan on the occasion of the 9th annual New Albany Facelift Awards.

Mayor Jeff Gahan said he’s glad to see so many people in New Albany take care to preserve and restore such historic buildings in the city.

“Our city’s two centuries old now and lately, we’ve seen development and businesses show more interest here,” Gahan said. “What’s exciting about the growth of New Albany is we all have the same goals for our historic buildings.”

What Jerod fails to mention, and which I'm delighted to note, is that when the mayor sought to make a few ineffectual jabs in the general direction of "affordable housing" prior to re-election, and a historic tavern building stood in the way ... well, in this instance we all didn't "have the same goals for our historic buildings," and the combined weight of officialdom couldn't wait to tear that mother down in spite of one solid and reputable proposal to rehabilitate it.

Let's look back. After all, it's been only a year and a half.

Squeals of arousal and delight resound across the 3rd council district as more of the city's history bites the dust.

ON THE AVENUES: Now on tap at the ghost of Haughey’s Place: The politics of pure spite.

The 3rd district councilman did not acquit himself well, either.

"Tear It Down," Sayeth the Councilman, Part 1: The rudderless newspaper squanders another 922 Culbertson opportunity, but an informative chat occurs, anyway.

"Tear It Down," Sayeth the Councilman, Part 2: "Just how has this been a corrupt process?" Hint: Secretive nonsense.

"Tear It Down," Sayeth the Councilman, Part 3: A civilian's due diligence as to 922 Culbertson's possibilities.

"Tear It Down," Sayeth the Councilman, Part 4: "I say do the work for which you're being paid."

"Tear It Down," Sayeth the Councilman, Part 5: The ghost of Orwell enjoys a pint at Haughey's Place.

Aren't they cute?

Follow the slush, my boy.

Always follow the slush.

ON THE AVENUES: A year later, the backroom politics of pure spite at Haughey’s Tavern still reek.

ON THE AVENUES: A year later, the backroom politics of pure spite at Haughey’s Tavern still reek.

A weekly web column by Roger A. Baylor.

In September of 2014, the city of New Albany demolished the historic Haughey’s Tavern building at 922 Culbertson Avenue. There'll be more explanatory links at the conclusion, but for now, here's an overview from the archives.

Oct 2, 2014: ON THE AVENUES: Now on tap at the ghost of Haughey’s Place: The politics of pure spite.

The vacant space subsequently was folded into pre-existing and thoroughly secretive plans for erecting six New Directions houses, which have since been completed, and form one of Jeff Gahan’s re-election platform planks – this being a prime reason the potted events occurred in the first place.

Four of the new houses are in a row across Culbertson from the ghost of Haughey’s, and two occupy the tavern’s decimated footprint.

Let’s try not to forget the central point, one consistently obscured by Team Gahan’s relentless, PAC-financed and self-serving propaganda machine: Haughey’s Tavern might have been saved and rehabilitated into the sort of street corner anchor that these two new houses are utterly incapable of being, now or ever.

After all, Haughey’s did it for more than 125 years, with various occupants surviving floods, tornadoes, ice storms and changing times ... until Gahan's suburban-over-urban logic came along.

There are numerous vacant spaces nearby where houses might yet be built, and in fact, since this disgraceful act unfolded behind closed door last year, the city has yet to present a coherent plan for affordable infill housing – at 922 Culbertson, or anywhere else.

This shameful absence only continues to be accentuated by the shameless non-public process prefacing the unnecessary Haughey’s demolition.

Just as there is much to be learned by any human society’s treatment of its most challenged members, we can derive insight as to the behavioral patterns of the Gahan administration in recalling this story, which is not for the faint of heart.

The narrative that follows is based on several composite sources. Some people directly involved spoke to me about the experience, but given the mayor’s vengeful tendencies, they would not do so for attribution. If anyone mentioned herein objects to my characterization, I'll retract it, though I think it's accurate. Maybe some day we'll have investigative journalism hereabouts.

Conversely, when I filed a formal “freedom of information” request with municipal "corporate attorney" Shane Gibson for e-mails, these were promptly provided … and not a single one of them involved the mayor.

That’s right. Not even one.

Do you believe Jeff Gahan did not send a single e-mail pertaining to this issue during the time period requested?

My guess is that he did, but did not use his official city e-mail account, and instead wrote for attribution via a private e-mail address – one at a server lying conveniently outside the realm of public record requests like the one I made.

If you believe that Gahan did not utter a single electronic communication about the Haughey’s debacle, then I have an Ohio River Bridge for purchase.

On layaway.

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During the run-up to the demolition, the city of New Albany never openly listed the Haughey’s building in any coherent manner that might have enticed developers to inquire. It was not marketed, and there was no effort to arrive at independent verification of the building’s structural condition.

Nevertheless, local developer Steve Resch examined the building and made an offer. He never believed the “dilapidated” party line espoused by City Hall’s minions (David Brewer and David Duggins prominent among them), and thought the building was salvageable.

Resch apparently thought he had a deal, to include the city and Indiana Landmarks combining resources with him in an amount previously discussed even before his offer was made, as intended to make possible a complete stabilization and exterior repair.

After that, Resch would wait for a tenant, and then finish the interior to spec on his own dime. His estimate of the total cost of rehabilitation was one-half to one-third less than that suggested by the minions – who never once explained their numbers publicly.

No sooner than Resch thought it was done deal, the rug was pulled out from beneath him. The only transparent, clear and publicly apparent instigator at the time was 1st district councilman Dan Coffey – in whose district the address is NOT located – who subbed for the AWOL 3rd district councilman Greg Phipps and constantly insisted to all and sundry that the building must come down.

Why?

Two sources told me that with county elections coming in November, 2014, and with Coffey mounting an ill-fated campaign for commissioner, he’d concocted a campaign financing deal with CCE/Eastridge, a deal that depended on the Haughey’s Tavern demolition to funnel the appropriate percentage toward Coffey’s campaign.

Coffey didn’t even get 40% of the vote – and a building that cannot be replaced subsequently disappeared.

It’s worth noting that during Doug England’s final term, CCE/Eastridge constantly was on the hot seat, prompting numerous neighborhood complaints about its toxic (literally) operations where Silver Street Park eventually was built with TIF bonds after the city bought the property for a princely sum.

Yes, from CCE/Eastridge.

Nowadays CCE/Eastridge is the beneficiary of prime governmental largess, including numerous demolition contracts, many of which emanate from The Redevelopment Commission, upon which both Coffey and Adam Dickey (the Democratic Party chairman and a vocal proponent of serial historic property demolition) are seated.

Coincidence or conflict of interest?

Always.

There was a lonely voice on Redevelopment advocating for sense and sensibility, but as usual, John Gonder was ignored.

One probable reason for CCE/Eastridge’s newfound preferential treatment has less to do with Coffey and more to its ownership of ground by the river needed by the city to complete the 8th-through-18th stretch of the Ohio River Greenway.

That’s right: A project that goes straight through the Redevelopment Commission.

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At some point during the spring or early summer of 2014, local Landmarks head Greg Sekula spotted the down-low demolition order, and called Gahan seeking an intervention.

Evidently Gahan initially indicated he was receptive, then began badgering Sekula into asking instead for a Horseshoe Foundation grant. This Sekula did, but when the Horseshoe meeting took place, Gahan sat impassively, refusing to motion, afterward remarking to Sekula that it didn’t matter.

According to Gahan, the board he so regularly maligns wouldn’t consider it, anyway, so why bother? We can surmise that the deal already was done at this point, but Ceausescu -- oops, Gahan -- wasn’t finished yet.

Following the Horseshoe fiasco, Gahan complained about Sekula to the head office of Landmarks, and in essence, tried to get him disciplined or fired. This did not occur, primarily because Sekula had done nothing untoward apart from trying to do his job, as opposed to appeasing Gahan's ego.

These phone calls jibe with stories told by other informants, who point to Gahan’s fundamental and recurring vindictiveness, and his zeal in this instance to show preservationists like Sekula exactly who’s the boss in this town.

Previously I sent e-mails to New Directions asking when the infill plan we see now was originally minted. The chronology matters, but New Directions never answered these e-mails.

At the time, there were regular rumors to the effect that Habitat for Humanity had a deal in place prior to the Haughey’s demolition, which Habitat dismissed – but the rumors themselves suggest the existence of some sort of pre-arranged outcome, even as the other subplots dropped into place.

No sooner than Haughey's came down than Gahan announced the partnership with New Directions to construct his platform planks.

From top to bottom, the fate of Haughey’s smells of an arrogant absence of due process, even a year later. The suburban niceness of the houses standing there now jars with ironic dissonance as one learns how they came into being, because ends do not justify means, and transparent processes really do matter.

Unfortunately, an arrogant usurpation of due process is the way Gahan rolls. For more, read this five-part series from August of 2014.

Let’s not let an atrocity like this happen again.

"Tear It Down," Sayeth the Councilman, Part 1: The rudderless newspaper squanders another 922 Culbertson opportunity, but an informative chat occurs, anyway.

"Tear It Down," Sayeth the Councilman, Part 2: "Just how has this been a corrupt process?" Hint: Secretive nonsense.

"Tear It Down," Sayeth the Councilman, Part 3: A civilian's due diligence as to 922 Culbertson's possibilities.

"Tear It Down," Sayeth the Councilman, Part 4: "I say do the work for which you're being paid."

"Tear It Down," Sayeth the Councilman, Part 5: The ghost of Orwell enjoys a pint at Haughey's Place.

---

Recent columns:

October 28: ON THE AVENUES REWOUND: How many businesses already have died because of City Hall’s street grid procrastination?

October 26: ON THE AVENUES EXTRA: Gahan says speeding sucks, but street safety can wait until after he is re-elected.

October 22: ON THE AVENUES: My career as a double naught capitalist.

October 19: ON THE AVENUES REWOUND: Courtesy bicycle to the Hotel Silly (2010, 2013).

October 15: ON THE AVENUES: To the New Albanians, each and every one.

October 8: ON THE AVENUES: There’s an indie twist to this curmudgeon’s annual Harvest Homecoming column.

October 1: ON THE AVENUES: No more fear, Jeff.

September 24: ON THE AVENUES: Almost two years later, Mr. Gahan has yet to plug in this clock, and so it's time for him to clock out.

September 17: ON THE AVENUES: Dear Neighbor: If you’re tired of the same old story, turn some pages.

September 10: ON THE AVENUES: Lanesville Heritage Weekend comes around again.

September 3: ON THE AVENUES: When even Mitt Romney can run to the left of New Albany’s Democrats, it's a very big problem.

Top blog comment of the month: A COA for the NSP infill? It'd be MIA.

You know, before he changed the seal and all. 

Our post this morning ...

Life is like a street piano. What the Bored of Works gets out of it depends on how they "nay" it.

 drew an insightful comment:

Did the city ask the Preservation Commission for a "Certificate of Appropriateness" before they demolished the tavern at 922 Culbertson?

922 Culbertson: A new owner for the property, or the components? By the way, where are these components?

Would it be impertinent of me to ask whether the inventory of "historic components" is finished, how many components were taken away before the building was secured, where these knick-knacks currently are being stored, and if there's a plan to dispose of them?

I certainly hope these questions are impertinent.

After all, the demolition of Haughey's Place was fairly impertinent, too.

Many of the historic components of the structure and bar area have been removed and will be stored by the city so they can be salvaged, Brewer said. He will begin compiling an inventory of the items next week. Despite what some may think, Brewer said the city’s goal with most every troubled property is to find a new owner, if possible.

More on the New Directions infill fix at 922 and City Hall's plans for Reisz.

As an addendum to yesterday's buttoned-up chronicle of covert building removal ...

ON THE AVENUES: Now on tap at the ghost of Haughey’s Place: The politics of pure spite.

... is offered by a regular reader, who tells us what is known about the replacement houses, i.e., what could not be publicly discussed by City Hall until after the wrecking ball landed.

New Directions Housing Corporation will soon take title to the property as part of Phase 2 of the Neighborhood Stabilization Program. At least one, and maybe two new homes will be built. I am told that they will be "zero lot line" federal style, but that may change. Even though you may not agree with how they went about the demolition of Al Mel's, you've gotta like what NDHC has done with Phase 1 of the NSP. Some of those houses are downright beautiful. I would expect 922 Culbertson to be no different.

A different observer asks a question we've been pondering, too.

Why was Dan Coffey so imtimately involved in the tear-down at 922? Why did he push so hard and on whose behalf?

But Thursday's blog hit count winner evoked shades of Ceausescu.

Same architect as always releases plans for new New Albany City Hall.

It prompted this comment:

Jeff Gahan and Pat McLaughlin are confident that this administration grows more popular by the day (and that's why) they are already scoping out where to put their new city hall.

Bully!

ON THE AVENUES: Now on tap at the ghost of Haughey’s Place: The politics of pure spite.

ON THE AVENUES: Now on tap at the ghost of Haughey's Place: The politics of pure spite. 

A weekly web column by Roger A. Baylor.

Whether or not it's historic isn't really relevant. Randomly tearing down what for all we know is a perfectly salvageable, useful commercial building in a neighborhood that needs them isn't cleaning up. It's just destroying assets, a waste in itself. If there's a rational case to be made for why the building isn't usable, no one from the City has made it.

The mayor says there's a post-demolition plan for the lot but it's a secret that can't be revealed to the neighborhood. Councilman Phipps, who represents the neighborhood, says there is not a plan, or maybe there is, and, if there is one, he shouldn't really tell us what it is anyway.

There's far more dirtying up than cleaning up going on.

-- Jeff Gillenwater, on Facebook

“The values to which people cling most stubbornly under inappropriate conditions are those values that were previously the source of their greatest triumphs.”

-- Jared Diamond, in "Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed"

---

In the frustrating weeks prior to the pre-ordained demolition of the historic Haughey tavern building at 922 Culbertson, numerous efforts were made by this blog to coax someone/anyone in city government to explain the sudden haste in destroying it, apart from the purely shambolic and theatrical "public safety" subterfuges, repeated like bureaucratic mantras, over and over again.

Even the customarily somnolent newspaper ventured a few sparsely tepid inquiries, although as usual, it couldn’t locate an editorial standpoint amid the profusion of rollover videos.

There were many questions, and the city batted them all away, preferring to conduct its predatory business in private, via a combination of overweening silence and condescending press releases.

Disturbingly, our 3rd district councilman Greg Phipps also took a vacuous pass on the topic, resorting to startlingly evasive academic sophistry when directly questioned about plans for the future of the cleared space, all this despite numerous substantive explanations of the building's value, both in a contemporary sustainable neighborhood sense (Gillenwater’s oft-repeated remarks above) and by area journalists without snarky bones to pick (see "Historic Culbertson tavern demolished", by Baylee Pulliam in the Courier-Journal).

All such efforts at transparence came abruptly to rest at what has become the single enduring symbol of Jeff Gahan's mayoral administration: A big, honking, impermeable stone wall.

---

Afterward, as the fully jigged dust was settling over the rubble, Gahan finally released his explanation, announcing what we'd all suspected was true from the start: A top secret agreement already was in place for an as yet undisclosed builder to erect two houses on the lot – hence the many rumors postulating Habitat for Humanity’s involvement, which were denied by the organization, but now can be seen as harbingers of a fix, all in.

We don't know who’ll be building these houses, or why this information could not be released before 922 Culbertson came to earth. Maybe it since has been announced in classic governmental fait accompli fashion, as filtered on Facebook by city hall’s chosen content provider, or hidden somewhere within daytime commission meeting minutes. 

But make no mistake: This quote by Mayor Gahan surely speaks volumes.

“After the construction of these homes are completed, no one will miss the dilapidated structure that was at 922 Culbertson Ave.” 

You’ll note Gahan's presumptive use of the term "dilapidated." 

It is a characteristically passive/aggressive way of having the last word in a contest of wills, which few community members ever knew took place. His choice of post-mortem language, aimed at mocking the building's presumed decay, is telling. It is anti-intellectual, and it is an intentional dig at his critics.

Gahan could not bring himself to reveal details of this bold, shining path of a future for the corner lot as justification before irrevocably removing a piece of New Albany's drinking history, but evidently there was a “plan” all along, and our own councilman was bizarrely willing to abet the charade by assuaging his suburban aesthetic sensibilities.

Unfortunately, there always will be questions as to the nature of the presumed decay. How dilapidated was it? As Jeff Gillenwater wrote:

There's been no evidence provided by the City or anyone else that it's rotting apart. The building has never been publicly marketed like a regular property to potential buyers. The proposed sale price has never been publicly shared.

So... we don't know what kind of shape it's actually in, what the price is, or how any stipulations put on the property by the City might be defined.

Based on not telling the public what specifically is wrong with the building and needs to be fixed and not really ever trying to sell it at a known price that reflects repair needs, city officials have somehow - magic, perhaps - determined there's no interest in it.

This knowledge, if any, was kept safely controlled within the inner sanctum. The city wouldn’t release it, and the council (perhaps excepting John Gonder) didn’t care to ask about it.

---

The Green Mouse did some digging, and he reports that at least some aspects of the 922 Culbertson anti-transparency debacle might be explained by Gahan's determination to establish authority over the Indiana Landmarks Foundation and its local overseer, Greg Sekula.

According to insiders, Sekula took Gahan to task early in the pre-programmed 922 Culbertson demolition farce, demanding that the mayor protect the building after he learned that siding and other architectural elements were being harvested from the structure. Sekula then went public to demand that Landmarks be given time to broker a preservative outcome.

It’s all too clear, isn't it?

With the mayor having conceded moments after the demolition that a mysterious, secret infill “plan” was in place all along, and with the very existence of this unrevealed plan neatly explaining the city’s ongoing reluctance to clearly explicate the building’s presumed decay – again, other than to insist that the same “public safety” concerns currently unenforced on hazardous one-way streets pressingly applied to this one, lone building sans any semblance of due diligence – it is obvious that Sekula made the error of fatally intruding into what was, in effect, a finished deal, one done dirt cheap in timeless and enduring New Albany civic fashion.

The result? Vindictiveness, an iron fist, and the loss of something irreparable. The Green Mouse’s contact had this to say:

Sekula daring to do his job apparently violated Gahan’s principles, because he “owns” the town since being elected God of New Albany, and so Landmarks gets nothing from now on, even if they offer up the best plan. Gahan was defied, and that’s now allowed, and so he has turned his guns on Landmarks, and Sekula especially. It's fine by me. Now that the rats are devouring one another, maybe there actually is something to karma.

What remains in the wake of 922 Culbertson's demise? For starters, there's an administration sworn to pathological secrecy, displaying a pervasive need to control information that approaches Nixonian proportions.

There's also a question of whether we have a participatory city council in any coherent sense. When was the last time that the council president Pat McLaughlin could be seen to veer from city hall’s proscribed diktat-of-the-moment? To be sure, Gonder has dared to do so -- and now finds himself on the municipal “shit list,” to be excluded even further from insight into state secrets.

The “shit list” continues to grow, and those of us inhabiting it may need to relocate to a more expansive holding pen. Maybe it’s time for us to buy a dorm fridge, paper plates, some picture frames and furniture, and decorate a bit.

Does anyone know where those 922 Culbertson fixtures are being stored?

Squeals of arousal and delight resound across the 3rd council district as more of the city's history bites the dust.

The 922 Culbertson demolition will proceed on Friday, September 5.

Conversely, the city's degradation is open-ended.

Dapper suburban-derived orgasms ripple across the 3rd council district as 922 Culbertson is prepared for demolition.

Good heavens, where's that CCE truck going at 50 mph through a residential area?

Maybe it's heading here.

It's looking like the end game for 922 Culbertson. I'm so old, I can remember when CCE was public enemy number one, but alliances shift, and the company -- a prime beneficiary of all these swinging wrecker's balls -- was on site today prepping.

Jeff Gahan has to be feeling good about himself. He stood firm in his poker game with the Horseshoe Foundation, and now the aged lumber can fly.

Gahan's streets may be unsafe, and getting more so by the minute as he gazes steadfastly in the other direction, but by God and Warren Nash, Hizzoner can tear down buildings with the best of 'em. He doesn't know what to do with the vacant lots. All he knows is that suburbanites crave tidiness and order, not that repulsive density of the city.

Maybe he needs to be mayor of Mark Seabrook, instead.

The current five-year plan stipulates a 354% increase in vacant lot creation, reports the communique of the Democratic Party Plenum.

Don't worry, It doesn't work.

We've embarked on an "aggressive" campaign to create vacant lots, under the rationale that public safety is being maintained. Funny, then, that public safety on public streets seems to be the farthest thing from anyone's messy little head ... but maybe the passing dump trucks are causing vertigo in my soul.

If an 18-wheeler passes by at 45 mph and a city official is not standing nearby, does it make a sound?

As for the gleeful, semi-erotic way we're razing structures: Am I going to have to be the one who goes to the Board of Public Works and asks the obvious question ... you know, the one that newspapers used to ask: Do we have a plan for creating new buildings from these hundreds of vacant lots?

By the way, there seems to be some sort of plan afoot for the old Haughey tavern building at 922 Culbertson.

SALVATION? Culbertson building in New Albany may be part of bigger plan; Horseshoe could be source to save structure, by Daniel Suddeath (News and Tribune)

NEW ALBANY — A plan to salvage the former bar and confectionery at 922 Culbertson Ave. may include a request for funds to address other vacant and historic structures in the city.

Indiana Landmarks Southern Regional Office Director Greg Sekula and New Albany Mayor Jeff Gahan confirmed in June that the demolition of the building would be delayed to allow a chance for preservationists to secure funds to restore the circa-1880 structure.

It's all about "public safety first" -- unless it's a one-way street, of course!

And then we're utterly powerless and chock full of cowardice.

It's the first time in months that Mayor Gahan has shown any interest in downtown ... and it's a demolition. That speaks volumes, even if he doesn't.

When the city announces this latest redevelopment triumph, will there be the requisite exclamation mark?

Old New Albany tavern to be torn down; Indiana Landmarks wanted Culbertson Avenue building, by Daniel Suddeath (N and T)

... “We want to be respectful of the structures we have, but at the same time, we have to put public safety first,” (David Brewer) said.

Gonder: "I believe that building can again be a jewel in that neighborhood."

Before it was Dorothy's, it was Haughey's Place, and may well have been one of the first re-licensed drinking spots after Prohibition was repealed. In this essay, councilman John Gonder makes his usual eloquent case, and does not neglect liver and onions.

The Sum of Its Parts (at Gonder for New Albany At-Large)

The building above remains a structure in jeopardy.

When I was a child, my father, my uncle and my grandfather referred to this neighborhood tavern as Dorothy's. That may or may not have been the name of it. But for some reason, unfathomable to me, and now known only to those long-departed souls, going to Dorothy's was a special gustatory treat. If my father and I dropped in at my grandfather's house, where my uncle also lived, for a Saturday afternoon visit, my uncle would occasionally announce with glee, as though it were a good thing, "Dorothy's made liver and onions". And off we would walk, from Elm Street to the building pictured above. An unspoken deal let me substitute a coke and potato chips for the offal and onions. We went there other times, besides these sterling occasions, and had things I considered food, open-faced roast beef sandwiches, mashed potatoes, all drowned in gravy. It was a good neighborhood spot. It was one of many neighborhood taverns in New Albany. It was a part of the fabric of the community.

Some of the taverns at 922 Culbertson, from 1937-1996.

(March 26 update ... here's the N and T article mentioned below)

On Sunday: For Grover's sake, what's up with 922 Culbertson Avenue?

While walking today, I saw a familiar face snapping photos of the building at 922 Culbertson Avenue, a process of demolition at which apparently started, then was stopped by the city. It appears that a News and Tribune staffer is looking into it, which is good .

Later I had ten minutes (literally) in the Indiana Room at the library, and gave the city guides a cursory browsing for information on the taverns at 922 Culbertson.

It looks as if Haughey's Place was established around 1937. It was still called Haughey's Place in 1966; if Grover Haughey still was alive, he'd have been around 81. There was a woman named Dorothy listed as living at 922 Culbertson in 1966; I forgot to record her last name, but something tells me she may have been a relative of Grover's. This would explain John Gonder's recollection of the establishment being called Dorothy's during the 1960s.

By 1969, it was called Dieckmann's, and the 1978 city guide records it as Al Mels, which it remained through the early 1990s. In 1996, the listing read Culbertson Avenue Tavern. In the combined 1997/1998 guide, there was no commercial listing for it. In 1999, it appears as home for two persons.

As TC noted on Fb:

"I loved that bar. Grew up two blocks away. hard boiled eggs and pickled bologna -- it opened at six a.m.! It is hard to find an elementary school with a good bar across the road in New Albany any more."

Indeed, it is. It's hard to find an elementary school, period.

For Grover's sake, what's up with 922 Culbertson Avenue?

In 1937, the building was a tavern called Haughey's Place (Grover Haughey, proprietor), and continued to serve alcoholic refreshments into the modern era -- I can't remember the name; can anyone help? Was it Al-Mel's?

Later, just a few years ago, it was the headquarters of Darshwood the Conjurer, at least according to certain on-line references. Is he still around?

Now it's being demolished. Or it is't. Who has the story? I hate to see old taverns go away. It's disrespectful to dead drinkers.