Sewer rate hikes aside, if the City & Caesar are willing to go to these lengths to cover up dated Bicentennial financial records, what else is being hidden?

Remember, the final vote on yearly sewer rate increases is tonight: Bump? Hike? If sewer rates are higher, then that's an increase, by definition.

Meanwhile, keeping up with the vandals is a wearying task, indeed. They molt, they swarm, and all I have is this Kay Jewelers fly-swatter.

Following is a letter I've submitted to the News and Tribune, and which I'll probably read aloud tonight, assuming council doesn't postpone its meeting to watch a high school basketball game, seeing as diversity in New Albany is guaranteed so long as everyone went to the same school.

For another letter writer's tale of dithering, go here.

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In 2013, New Albany city councilman Bob Caesar was chairman of New Albany’s Bicentennial Commission.

More than 600 days ago, I asked Caesar for financial records detailing the committee’s activities. I specifically sought details about the “official” Bicentennial book, “Historic New Albany, Indiana: By the River’s Edge.”

How was it contracted, published and sold? What is the status of the Redevelopment Commission’s loan, without which the book wouldn’t have been published at all?

Supposedly 5,000 Bicentennial books were published at a cost of $144,000, or $28 per book; to this day, they’re routinely gifted by Mayor Jeff Gahan at ribbon cuttings and public ceremonies. 

If books remain unsold, how many are there, and where are they being stored? Who paid for the ones that Gahan gifts?

At various points, Caesar confirmed publicly that he would make available this information, and in a 2015 e-mail, he conceded the records were in his possession, “Upstairs under a lot of stuff.”

Naturally, I’ve been stonewalled ever since.

Earlier in 2016, when I reminded Caesar of his obligation to the taxpayers, he imperiously told me to file an open records request with City Hall. I did, and was stalled by city attorney Shane Gibson for almost five months before this answer arrived: “The city does not possess the above referenced items.”

Sadly, this isn’t the first time our mayor, his team and his political allies have seen to it that information like this is withheld. If they’ll willing to go to these lengths to cover up dated Bicentennial financial records, what else is being hidden?

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For a more detailed rendering than the newspaper's arbitrary length standards allow, see these previous posts:

(1 of 2): It has been 600 days since I asked Bob Caesar to show us the Bicentennial accounts, but at last, an entirely unsatisfactory answer has been proffered.

(2 of 2): It's been 600 days, and Bob Caesar and the city of New Albany continue to stonewall a legitimate request for Bicentennial Commission records. Can't someone just tell us about the books?

(2 of 2): It's been 600 days, and Bob Caesar and the city of New Albany continue to stonewall a legitimate request for Bicentennial Commission records. Can't someone just tell us about the books?

For a more comprehensive survey of what transpired in New Albany during the Bicentennial Year Zero End Times in 2013, go here.

(1 of 2): It has been 600 days since I asked Bob Caesar to show us the Bicentennial accounts, but at last, an entirely unsatisfactory answer has been proffered.

All we really wanted to know is how well those hired-gun Bicentennial books had sold, how many of the 5,000 (!) remained to be sold, and whether Redevelopment's loan was ever paid back. At the time, we were fairly gripped with mercenary gala nostalgia just thinking about it.

I've been trying to make sense of it ever since, and this brings us to the present.

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It was almost exactly 600 days ago when I first asked Councilman (and former Bicentennial Commission chairman) Bob Caesar in public during city council speaking time to see the commission's records.

Specifically, I asked for information pertaining to the commission's showpiece bicentennial book: How much it cost, who paid the bill, how many were sold, and how many remain.

There were follow-up e-mails with Caesar, in one of which he voluntarily acknowledged having these records (below), as well as further public reminders during council meetings. However, the records were never produced.

Circa March 2016, after a year had passed, I brought it up again during a council meeting, and Caesar opted for open evasion. He claimed the records are available on-line (untrue then, as now), and then waved off my reminder by saying I could file a Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) public record request if I wished.

So I did.

The city's corporate attorney Shane Gibson promptly acknowledged receiving my request, provided an equally timely date for it to be honored, then ignored his own deadline, waiting 21 weeks to act. This prompted me to file a complaint with the Indiana Public Access Counselor.

Last week (November 30), with the counselor's decision imminent, Gibson e-mailed me. He said I could have what he was willing to let me have (tax records and council meeting minutes, for the most part), but not what I specifically requested.

Here's the letter.

Following is the relevant text from Gibson's letter (above), in which he responds to my specific requests item by item. They're my original words from the initial request, with Gibson's replies underlined.

Requested Items:

Details should include all bids, contracts and expenditures for Bicentennial Commission activities, prime among them the process through with the Bicentennial book (“Historic New Albany, Indiana: By the River’s Edge,” by James Crutchfield) was contracted, published and sold, and the status of the Redevelopment Commission’s loan to make publication of this volume possible.

Response: The City does not possess the above referenced items.

As part of this request, I am requesting to know the current status of inventory with regard to these books. If books remain unsold, how many remain, and where are they stored? Also, when a Bicentennial book is given away at a public ceremony, who paid for it? These invoices are to be considered part of this request.

Response: The request for inventory is not a request for public records, however, the City does not possess any such document that details inventory. The City does not possess any of the other above referenced items.

As part of this request, I am further requesting copies of the official e-mail correspondence between Robert Caesar and other members of the Bicentennial Commission pertaining to these plans and transactions.

Response: The City does not possess the above referenced items.

Now, it should come as no surprise to anyone that Gibson would treat my information request in a spirit of spiteful nonchalance. It's what Team Gahan does.

At the same time, strictly speaking, he's probably telling the truth by means of carefully chosen words, and this is something I can at least appreciate. He says the city does not possess the referenced items, not that the referenced items do not exist. Presumably, someone else possesses them, and this certain someone undoubtedly is Caesar himself.

Because: Caesar previously admitted possessing them. Turning back the clock to June, 2015, here is my e-mail question to Caesar, followed by his reply.

Monday, June 08, 2015:
Do you recall a few weeks back, when I spoke a city council and expressed interest in learning about the state of the Bicentennial finances? Consider this my follow-up. So many things are happening that I let it slip, but I was (and remain) serious about seeing these numbers.

Tuesday, June 09, 2015:
None of the financials are on line. They are upstairs under a lot of stuff. I can tell you all bills are paid, and paid on time. All reporting to the state is done. And we did not use all of the city money. There was about 5 to 10K that stayed in the city funds.

That's right, folks.

Not on-line where the public might view them, and not even stored in an accessible public office, but "upstairs under a lot of stuff." Welcome to accountable governance, Nawbany-style.

To repeat, the records I've been requesting for over a year and a half, which detail the activities of a municipally-chartered body, one that by Caesar's own admission made use of at least a portion of taxpayer money to finance its activities, are not available at City Hall, where they should be filed, but "upstairs," perhaps in Caesar's attic, or (at the time) his former jewelry business.

That's incredible.

Consider also that by the spring of 2016, when Caesar sarcastically contended the commission's records were available on-line, he knew there was no way this assertion could be true, as it implied that someone attached to the city had taken the records from their resting place "Upstairs at Caesar's," except this surely didn't happen. If it did happen, and the records were transferred to City Hall to be scanned, why couldn't Gibson find them? What happened to them?

And so on, and so forth. Sadder still, there's no way of knowing if the records aren't currently taking up space in the landfill.

But bicentennial books definitely still exist. What about them?

At the time of the Bicentennial Commission's iron Luddite grip on the city's anniversary celebration, Caesar's own repeated public utterances suggested that 5,000 books were to be produced at a cost of $144,000 ($28 and change per book), and we know that seed money to accomplish this came from the Redevelopment Commission, following a farcical effort to extort money from the Southern Indiana Tourism Bureau.

In fact, Caesar told the council that profits from book sales would help pay for the cost of hiring an out-of-state-freelance writer and other publishing-related expenses. To put it gently, bountiful apocryphal evidence suggests that Caesar's dream scenario didn't come to fruition, which makes Gibson's reply last week even more potentially disingenuous.

Because: While the commission's records may not be within the city corporate attorney's possession, plenty of the books apparently remain in the city's loving reach, to be handed out by the mayor like Halloween candy at ribbon-cuttings and other civic events, as shown in this photo I took in 2015 at Underground Station. Look for the paving stone under the mayor's arm.

Gibson again: "The request for inventory (of books) is not a request for public records, however, the City does not possess any such document that details inventory. The City does not possess any of the other above referenced items."

If so, where is the mayor getting his many copies of the book?

Did he purchase them himself?

Are they stacked at his garage?

Shouldn't the Bicentennial Commission's records explain all this?

Shouldn't those records be available for public perusal, since public money was used to finance the bicentennial festivities?

Why can't just one of these persons -- any one of them, just take your pick -- man up, answer these questions and provide the requested records?

I know nothing will come of this, but by any measure of ethics as applied to elected officials, Bob Caesar's behavior in this instance merits censure by the city council. At the very least, perhaps other council members can help Caesar understand that when he has spent 600 days sidestepping what should be a simple information request, it makes the council look bad as a whole, as well as feeding suspicions that Caesar has something to hide.

Caesar is a self-styled budget hawk, constantly making references "for the record" about the grave necessity of paying close attention to the financials and accounting for every dime of public money.

Except when the jeweler fancies himself a publishing mogul. Below is the ordinance establishing Caesar's personal plaything commission.

BI-CENTENNIAL COMMISSION
§ 33.165 CREATION.
(A) There is hereby created the New Albany Bi-Centennial Commission.
(B) The membership of the Bi-Centennial Commission shall be composed of nine citizen members, five appointed by the Mayor and four appointed by the Common Council. The terms of office of the membership shall be for the period of time commencing with appointment and concluding at midnight on December 31, 2013. The Mayor and Common Council may remove and appoint its members at will.
(C) The mission of the Bi-Centennial Commission shall be to plan, coordinate and implement projects and events to celebrate the city’s bi-centennial. The Bi-Centennial Commission shall work with local citizens, businesses, organizations and institutions to accomplish its mission.
(D) The Bi-Centennial Commission shall adopt by-laws. These by-laws shall address such issues as meeting times and places, rules for the conduct of meetings, and other rules for the efficient operation of an advisory commission.
(E) The Bi-Centennial Commission shall appoint members to an advisory committee that it will work with to engage local citizens, businesses, organizations and institutions to accomplish its mission.
(Ord. G-09-06, passed 3-19-2009; Ord. G-12-01, passed 2-6-2012)

On the Bicentennial's Crutchfield seat cushions: How many were sold? Was the loan paid back?

According to tweets, news stories and other secondary sources ...

At last night's city council meeting, Pat "Patty Mac" McLaughlin retained his seat in the lead chair, with John Gonder agreeing to another term as sidekick.

A wholly redundant "aggressive panhandling" ordinance was adopted, to be immediately relegated to the considerable civic file folder (paper only, and quaintly non-electronic) marked "shit we'll never bother enforcing," but at least Shirley "Farmer Baird" now has a legislative achievement apart from creatively siphoning money to DNA's corner market stalls.

Curiously, Dan Coffey got all belligerent about the Port Authority, placing him in rare non-accord with the Gahan administration, for which the erstwhile Wizard of Westside has acted as de facto whip for the past two years. The PA was passed, anyway, and my guess would be that those unfortunate schmucks in attendance were witnessing some carefully scripted boilerplate: Pick an ordinance sure to pass, oppose it anyway with advance clearance from the top, and bolster one's credentials in the race for commissioner by taking a hard line on nothing.

Yawn.

But as Mrs. Beam pointed out, all we really want to know is how well those hired-gun Bicentennial books sold, how many of the 5,000 (!) remain to be sold, and whether Redevelopment's loan was paid back. We're fairly gripped with mercenary gala nostalgia just thinking about it.

Whatcha say, CeeSaw? Here is the newspaper report from November, 2011:

BOOK DEAL

In related news, Caesar updated the redevelopment commission on the status of a bicentennial book being prepared for release next year.

To produce and print 5,000 copies of the book will cost $144,000, Caesar said.

“I know that’s a lot of money, but there’s a lot of work that goes into these,” he said.

Redevelopment funds were used as a loan to the bicentennial commission to get the book started, and Caesar said the advance will be paid back after sales start accumulating.

Standard copies of the book will be sold for $40, but 200 limited editions will be sold for $200 through an invitation process, Caesar said.

As Caesar said the $144,000 will be derived from donations to the cause, proceeds from the book sales will go straight to funding bicentennial activities.

About $107,000 of the production total has already been raised, Caesar said.

He added the book will be extremely detailed and an appropriate representation of New Albany’s history.

“We feel there won’t be any problem selling it,” Caesar said. “These stories will have flavor to them.”

Audit those Crutchfields, or at least use them for paving stones.

What was that?

The city's now the number one lien holder on the Crutchfield mercenary coffee table door stop tome?

Oh, wait; that was Linden Meadows. The Crutchfield lien holder is the Redevelopment Commission, right? We don't really know, do we? I mean, the big kids said we shouldn't ask.

Meanwhile, credit to my friend Mark for succinctly summarizing Bicentennial Gate. Isn't if funny how for once, Dan Coffey says he has all the information he needs ... and yet he's not sharing any, is he?

Iamhoosier left a new comment on your post "Council still snoozing as Meginity asks for a Bicentennial Commission audit.": 

I don't personally know most of the principals involved in this "dispute". I do know that there has been no public accounting of funds and darn little other information about the committee's operation.

While I don't suspect any "pocket lining" to have gone on, it does appear that proper accounting and management techniques have not been used. We deserve some answers. 

Quality of Life Bond Bonuses, Episode 2: What do we do with all those Bicentennial books?

In NAC's new ongoing series, "Quality of Life Bond Bonuses," we've determined that nothing stands in the way of this city living like Dubai except our inexplicable hesitancy to bond a big line of credit and start spending it. Well, we've gotten over THAT -- "black gold, Texas tea, Falling Run, $19 million on TIF" -- and even with water sports, soccer fields and other line items already slated for action, there should be ample cash left over for smaller necessities.

Like all those soon-to-be-redundant Crutchfields ... otherwise known as the New Albany Bicentennial book.

Crutchmania: "It's a Grand Old Gala" (Tome Raider Remix).

Having already forwarded the money to publish a volume that Councilman Bob Caesar recently said was selling "okay," and had in fact depleted by one copy in Internet sales on the very day Caesar was queried (meriting either a bullet or a mullet), the city need now earmark just $25,000 or so in bond bucks to buy back the books it already funded, and then another few dollars for padding ...

 +

 +

=

Seat covers for
Caesar's Folly,
a.k.a. Rent Boy Park.

Crutchmania: "It's a Grand Old Gala" (Tome Raider Remix).

Crutchmania erupted at the Grand last night as a gala celebrated the release of a book about New Albany, written by a hired gun from Tennessee, priced at $200 for signed and numbered copies, called: “Historic New Albany, Indiana: We Need More Money or That Garbage Stays Right There in the Can." Citizens eager to spend a week's pay for hackneyed prose fainted dead away when a tray of leftover cocktail weenies finally was tossed in their general direction.

Another satisfied celebrant: Honk honk, honk honk ("Gimme the largest Crutchfield you got, and put it on HIS tab").

Commissar CeeSaw choreographed the proceedings with Tiberian ease: "No, no -- MY way, understand, MY way. One way is THAT way, guys! C'mon, already."

"But ma, of course we'll take care of that cute fountain -- just like the parking lot next to Wick's."

On October 4, business formal wear and 200 smackers will render you Crutchfelt.

Civic embarrassment: Bicentennial Commission goes mercenary, disses localism. (December 27, 2011)

 ... If the “official” bicentennial celebration is going to be the same old white-bread-and-Budweiser karaoke show, it’s time for the creative class to get to work on the underground version.

What we need: The New Albany Bicentennial Writers' Project.

Books don’t seem to matter as much as they used to, and so it was instructive to witness a generally annoyed reaction to the Bicentennial commission’s non-transparent decision (itself so indicative of the city’s generational tendencies) to ingloriously import a freelancer from Tennessee to “write the book” on New Albany.

Both here, at the newspaper and on Facebook, savvy readers immediately grasped the obvious: It makes no sense to employ a freelancer from afar when the writers we already have can do the job.

New Albany’s history reads like any other city’s record, in the sense that it boasts the sublime and the ridiculous in roughly equal measure. The commission’s aim in producing a coffee table book for fund-raising purposes undoubtedly is to render the standard, glowing and heroic account of numerous bearded white folks defying the odds to raise a city from the flood plain – when, of course, it would have been far more sensible of them to leave the bottomland be and place it on the non-tubercular hillside.

Respectable history is one thing, and daily life something else entirely. To me, the ideal Bicentennial book would be a written snapshot of New Albany at 200, looking back and ahead, inclusive of a number of perspectives, and unafraid both to celebrate the victories and to dissect the warts. 

What is needed is a New Albany Bicentennial Writers' Project (BWP), with a goal of producing “The People’s History of New Albany”, nodding toward historians like the late Howard Zinn, and his life’s work of balancing the talking points of officialdom. New Albany is a place filled with numerous instructive and entertaining stories, most of which would have no place in the Babbitt History of New Albany (thank you, Sinclair Lewis). That’s all the more reason to pursue them.

Know from the very start that this is going to be hard, hard work. First, what are the major themes in the New Albany historical narrative worthy of examination? Who’ll be doing the writing, and when is the work due? How do we pay for it, with local government already stating its inexplicable preference for the “infallible fatherland version” of the past? 

Well, I’m willing to put in the time, and as for the money ... we'll figure it out.

Let them have their “official” volume. Conversely, let’s aim to create a thought-provoking counterweight. Who knows? It might turn into a permanent feature of the New Albanian landscape.

Act now, and we'll double your Crutchfield!

Civic embarrassment: Bicentennial Commission goes mercenary, disses localism.

So much for localism.

Bicentennial commission continues fundraising push; Book celebrating 200 years of New Albany due out in September

NEW ALBANY — The New Albany Bicentennial Commission isn’t waiting until 2013 to roll out historic memorabilia.

As the city prepares for its 200th birthday in 2013, the commission has been finalizing plans for a limited-edition book that will detail New Albany’s past in a way that officials said will hardly be dry and boring.

“It’s going to be a fascinating book,” said Bob Caesar, who is a New Albany City Councilman and a member of the committee.

Noted history author James A. Crutchfield was hired to write the book, though the narratives are only slated to comprise about one-third of the work. Color photographs will occupy most of the remaining space.

Why on earth would the New Albany Bicentennial Commission select a hired-hack author from Tennessee to “write the book” on New Albany?

Crutchfield is presently working with Pulitzer Prize-winning photographer Robin Hood in producing a collection of top quality, four-color, coffee table books. Crutchfield does the research and writes the historical treatises for the books. He and Hood have produced books on Nashville’s Opryland Hotel, the Tennessee Walking Horse, the University of the South at Sewanee, historic sites and buildings in Tennessee, and Mercersburg Academy in Pennsylvania. Works in progress are a book on the Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island, Michigan and the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga.

This decision runs counter to every imaginable precept of localism, but "respectable" elements approve, so ... this is what we get.

The very first name that comes to my mind is not James A. Crutchfield, but New Albany native Gregg Seidl. He’s a local historian and a published author, who leads tours of haunted and nefarious NA, and also writes “straight” when the occasion merits.

After I read the article linked here, I messaged Gregg and asked if anyone serving on the Commission had approached him about the book idea. He replied that no one had mentioned it to him, and he’d read about it in the newspaper just like the rest of us.

Jeff Gahan, are you or your advisors reading?

Yet again, the institutionalized banality of the departing England administration’s “same few people on all committees” results in divergent voices going unheard, and an opportunity utterly wasted, except this one quite literally is a once-in-a-lifetime chance. If the “official” bicentennial celebration is going to be the same old white-bread-and-Budweiser karaoke show, it’s time for the creative class to get to work on the underground version.

James A. Crutchfield?

Really?