Showing posts with label government finance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label government finance. Show all posts

Monday, October 14, 2019

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


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."

There was no time to conjure a column during Harvest Homecoming, so 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 here. Now let's return to the voluminous case against Gahanism in five informative and entertaining installments.

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

---

June 21, 2018

ON THE AVENUES: Government Lives Matter, so it's $10,000,000 for Gahan's luxury city hall clique enhancement. Happy dumpster diving, peasants!

A weekly column by Roger A. Baylor.

If someone ignored the "no soliciting" sign on your porch and clambered up to the door, breathlessly offering to sell you a gizmo with the promise that the mere fact of owning it will save you all kinds of money, there are many good questions you might ask.

Of course, you might also command the huckster to vacate your porch, or else. I generally do. But in order to determine whether the peddler's product is a sound investment, one specific question tops the list:

How much does it cost?

Mayor Jeff Gahan is a former veneer salesman with a well-honed, thoroughly greasy sales pitch, and he thinks you're too stupid to ask how much a new city hall is going to cost you -- in tax dollars.

The (Reisz) project will save millions of dollars over time, as the city has paid costs in its current location for over 57 years. It will also help the surrounding businesses see their private investment backed up by pubic investment.

Take a magnifying glass to the undisguised gloating amid yesterday's city hall press release, stating that the multi-million dollar Reisz renovation is a done deal and a fixed formality, and further opposition from the likes of YOU is plainly useless, and you'll find absolutely no mention of the price tag.

Please allow me to fill in this blank.

The Reisz cost commitment already has topped $10,000,000 in a city where perhaps a quarter of the residents live below the poverty line; where Gahan and his new unofficial deputy mayor and slavish devotee David Barksdale are eager to demolish half of the city's public housing units; and where city hall has yet to mention aloud minor details like the opioid epidemic, the accompanying rise in thievery and petty crime, homelessness, and the worsening plight of our city's working poor.

The sloganeering is so oppressive that a Trump rally seems like the knitter's circle coffee klatsch by comparison.

Government lives matter!

(so, let's literally quadruple the size of municipal government)

Buildings not people!

(because elite cliques need historic fetishes, too)

If you have to ask what it costs, you can't afford it!

(it might be the only truthful statement yet uttered by these purported Democrats)

Team Gahan and affiliates can do the math, all right, so long as most of it is concealed.

What eludes them is simple human empathy.

---

Last week the News and Tribune's most inconsistent editor got to work defending the imperatives of government buildings over those of residents.

He begins by inferring an economic ripple effect from a single government-occupied building, without bothering to try to interpret economic conditions and trends downtown.

MORRIS: Reisz rehab would give downtown a boost, by Chris Morris (Where Multiple Tom Mays Roam)

 ... But the area needs another boost. Some businesses have closed recently while others are struggling. Just think what could happen with a vibrant city hall in a refurbished Reisz building, in the heart of our downtown. With life put back into a building that has sat empty for years, others may decide to invest and open a business, or at the very least visit the downtown. The downtown needs this project.

Morris saves his weakest argument for last.

I am a fan of uni-gov — otherwise known as one government for New Albany and Floyd County, and being in favor of adding another government building to the tax rolls goes against that theory. Uni-gov would eliminate duplicated services, there wouldn’t be these power struggles or personality conflicts, and it would save taxpayers money. Too much government only gets in the way of people trying to live their lives ...

 ... So why would I support spending money to rehabilitate this building, guaranteeing two separate government buildings just blocks apart? Even with a uni-gov the City-County Building will be needed for office space and to allow the courts to expand. That building is also in need of some renovation, but that is for another day ...

... It’s a big move but one I think the city needs to take. There are no other options on the table for the building and this makes the most sense. The downtown needs a boost, and putting city hall inside the Reisz Furniture building may be exactly what is needed. It’s worth the gamble.

Worth the $10,000,000 (or more) gamble, like it's Monopoly money?

If there is a consistent theme to the prevailing Reisz apologetic, it echoes the immortal words of Basil Fawlty: "Don't mention the cost!"

Or: Don't mention the opportunity cost, because we'll be spending an extra $400,000 a year for one government building when the money might be combined with private sector investments to assist dozens of other deserving historic structures downtown and those small businesses and residences occupying them, as well as incentivizing infill construction to fill vacant lots.

Alas, we've long understood that Morris's veneration of "respectable" authority is such that he'll automatically take the side of anyone and anything he's loosely capable of identifying as a selfless community pillar.

Morris comes perilously close to openly acknowledging that this fact-free approach is contradictory as it pertains to uni-gov, and yet he churns out the logic sausage as predictably as Team Gahan and HWC Engineering render Jeff Speck's walkability into more of the same car-centrism.

I asked the newspaper for a similar word count in rebuttal. To my mild surprise, the offer was accepted, and I wrote the following. It was published yesterday; this is the "Director's Cut," leaving intact two passages I was asked by the editor to remove. You'll probably be able to guess which ones.

---

Last week the News and Tribune’s Chris Morris supported governmental intervention ostensibly aimed at “saving” the Reisz Furniture Warehouse by renovating it into a lavish new city hall.

I’d love to see Reisz put to use, just not like this. To understand why, let’s follow the money.

Dating to 1852, the Reisz building has been a flour mill, funeral home and shirt factory. Purchased by Schmitt Furniture in 1988, it served mostly as cheap storage.

At any point during three decades, Schmitt might have opted to “save” Reisz but didn’t, and so a central point of Mayor Jeff Gahan’s case for adaptive reuse is a suddenly urgent need to rectify the "dilapidated” building’s “neglect” (his words).

Apparently there are no penalties in New Albany for structure abuse.

Last August the Redevelopment Commission authorized funds for Gahan’s relocation project, at the time neither subject to an RFP (request for proposal), nor approved by city council. Detailed explanations were offered by Denton Floyd Real Estate Group, with whom Gahan is partnering, as though the deal already had been sealed.

Perhaps this occurred when former redevelopment tsar David Duggins accompanied Denton Floyd last fall for a limousine junket to Keeneland.

By May of 2018, the RFP formality was hurdled. $750,000 passed from Redevelopment to Denton Floyd, including the purchase price of $390,000, with the remainder to empty the building of junk.

Denton Floyd would complete the 23,000-square-foot buildout for city hall’s relocation (currently City Hall uses 6,500 sq. ft. at the City County Building), with a 15-year “rent to own” lease.

Yearly payments will be $570,000, or $8,500,000 over 15 years. By comparison, $200,000 during the same period in the City County Building totals $3,000,000. Another $500,000 is approved for office furnishings, surely a low estimate.

Ten months ago the city’s combined yearly cost at Reisz was estimated at $215,000. It’s more than tripled since then, with just shy of $10,000,000 committed to the project. The total cost of ownership inevitably will rise; in addition to inevitable price hikes, county officials insist the city remains bound to its current landlord. Lawsuits are likely.

20% of the city’s population lives below the poverty line, yet Gahan, who concurrently seeks to demolish half our public housing units, wants to spend an additional $370,000 - $400,000 yearly on city offices, citing the ripple effects of economic development that relocation will generate.

We should be asking whether these ripple effects are real or imagined.

The most persistent advocate of the Reisz project is David Barksdale, historic preservationist and city councilman, who thinks Reisz must be renovated at any cost, and presumably, since limitless costs are government’s responsibility, seeks largess from a bottomless well of cash.

Barksdale touts the project as “skin in the game,” a way of showing downtown stakeholders that City Hall stands with them.

After all, entrepreneurs and small independent business owners have invested $60 million or more into downtown during the past decade, while enjoying few of the subsidies available to suburban industrial park occupants.

Barksdale’s argument is flawed. Private investors spend their own money, but the money required for the municipality’s funding of a single speculative historic preservation project isn’t cash from Gahan’s or Barksdale’s pockets.

Rather, this “skin” belongs to the city’s taxpayers – and they haven’t been asked.

Naturally downtown stakeholders need functional “skin” in the game, this being shared, collective infrastructure, including streets, sewers, police and firefighters. These are grassroots needs, citywide.

City Hall spending almost $10 million on itself? That’s a top-down want.

Some compare a new city hall with the YMCA. It’s absurd. The YMCA brings people downtown who might not otherwise come. Moving city offices three whole blocks changes nothing. The same workers come to work, and they eat the same lunch. There is no net gain.

Furthermore, a relocated city hall threatens to bump Harvest Homecoming’s kiddie rides from its current location, posing a financial hardship for the city’s premier annual festival.

As for the exaggerated rhetoric of historic preservation, $7 million for one additional restored historic building won’t be diverting tour buses.

Numerous structures of historic significance lie within a five minute stroll of Reisz. No study has been conducted to determine whether one of them might be suitable as city hall. No other options even have been considered. If floated as a referendum, this relocation boondoggle probably would lose 70%-30%, or worse.

Ironically Morris, a proponent of unified city-county government (uni-gov), can’t see that Gahan’s interest in city hall relocation is politically motivated, having nothing to do with historic preservation or the Reisz building itself apart from the utility of prying away Barksdale’s council vote to restore Gahan’s control of an otherwise lapsed majority.

City hall’s relocation addresses Gahan’s pathological hatred of uni-gov. He’d secede from the county if allowed, and he’d relocate HQ to a suitably luxurious pole barn if one existed. Plainly, the aim is political preservation for Gahan and Democrats, and Reisz is just one move in a chess game to stave off power-sharing with the county.

Shouldn’t we wait until municipal elections in 2019 to discuss moving city hall?

Let your councilman know this mandate (if any) should come from the people, not the city’s ruling elites.

---

See also:

June 12, 2018: 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.

Thursday, June 21, 2018

ON THE AVENUES: Government Lives Matter, so it's $10,000,000 for Gahan's luxury city hall clique enhancement. Happy dumpster diving, peasants!

ON THE AVENUES: Government Lives Matter, so it's $10,000,000 for Gahan's luxury city hall clique enhancement. Happy dumpster diving, peasants!


A weekly column by Roger A. Baylor.

If someone ignored the "no soliciting" sign on your porch and clambered up to the door, breathlessly offering to sell you a gizmo with the promise that the mere fact of owning it will save you all kinds of money, there are many good questions you might ask.

Of course, you might also command the huckster to vacate your porch, or else. I generally do. But in order to determine whether the peddler's product is a sound investment, one specific question tops the list:

How much does it cost?

Mayor Jeff Gahan is a former veneer salesman with a well-honed, thoroughly greasy sales pitch, and he thinks you're too stupid to ask how much a new city hall is going to cost you -- in tax dollars.

The (Reisz) project will save millions of dollars over time, as the city has paid costs in its current location for over 57 years. It will also help the surrounding businesses see their private investment backed up by pubic investment.

Take a magnifying glass to the undisguised gloating amid yesterday's city hall press release, stating that the multi-million dollar Reisz renovation is a done deal and a fixed formality, and further opposition from the likes of YOU is plainly useless, and you'll find absolutely no mention of the price tag.

Please allow me to fill in this blank.

The Reisz cost commitment already has topped $10,000,000 in a city where perhaps a quarter of the residents live below the poverty line; where Gahan and his new unofficial deputy mayor and slavish devotee David Barksdale are eager to demolish half of the city's public housing units; and where city hall has yet to mention aloud minor details like the opioid epidemic, the accompanying rise in thievery and petty crime, homelessness, and the worsening plight of our city's working poor.

The sloganeering is so oppressive that a Trump rally seems like the knitter's circle coffee klatsch by comparison.

Government lives matter!

(so, let's literally quadruple the size of municipal government)

Buildings not people!

(because elite cliques need historic fetishes, too)

If you have to ask what it costs, you can't afford it!

(it might be the only truthful statement yet uttered by these purported Democrats)

Team Gahan and affiliates can do the math, all right, so long as most of it is concealed.

What eludes them is simple human empathy.

---

Last week the News and Tribune's most inconsistent editor got to work defending the imperatives of government buildings over those of residents.

He begins by inferring an economic ripple effect from a single government-occupied building, without bothering to try to interpret economic conditions and trends downtown.

MORRIS: Reisz rehab would give downtown a boost, by Chris Morris (Where Multiple Tom Mays Roam)

 ... But the area needs another boost. Some businesses have closed recently while others are struggling. Just think what could happen with a vibrant city hall in a refurbished Reisz building, in the heart of our downtown. With life put back into a building that has sat empty for years, others may decide to invest and open a business, or at the very least visit the downtown. The downtown needs this project.

Morris saves his weakest argument for last.

I am a fan of uni-gov — otherwise known as one government for New Albany and Floyd County, and being in favor of adding another government building to the tax rolls goes against that theory. Uni-gov would eliminate duplicated services, there wouldn’t be these power struggles or personality conflicts, and it would save taxpayers money. Too much government only gets in the way of people trying to live their lives ...

 ... So why would I support spending money to rehabilitate this building, guaranteeing two separate government buildings just blocks apart? Even with a uni-gov the City-County Building will be needed for office space and to allow the courts to expand. That building is also in need of some renovation, but that is for another day ...

... It’s a big move but one I think the city needs to take. There are no other options on the table for the building and this makes the most sense. The downtown needs a boost, and putting city hall inside the Reisz Furniture building may be exactly what is needed. It’s worth the gamble.

Worth the $10,000,000 (or more) gamble, like it's Monopoly money?

If there is a consistent theme to the prevailing Reisz apologetic, it echoes the immortal words of Basil Fawlty: "Don't mention the cost!"

Or: Don't mention the opportunity cost, because we'll be spending an extra $400,000 a year for one government building when the money might be combined with private sector investments to assist dozens of other deserving historic structures downtown and those small businesses and residences occupying them, as well as incentivizing infill construction to fill vacant lots.

Alas, we've long understood that Morris's veneration of "respectable" authority is such that he'll automatically take the side of anyone and anything he's loosely capable of identifying as a selfless community pillar.

Morris comes perilously close to openly acknowledging that this fact-free approach is contradictory as it pertains to uni-gov, and yet he churns out the logic sausage as predictably as Team Gahan and HWC Engineering render Jeff Speck's walkability into more of the same car-centrism.

I asked the newspaper for a similar word count in rebuttal. To my mild surprise, the offer was accepted, and I wrote the following. It was published yesterday; this is the "Director's Cut," leaving intact two passages I was asked by the editor to remove. You'll probably be able to guess which ones.

---

Last week the News and Tribune’s Chris Morris supported governmental intervention ostensibly aimed at “saving” the Reisz Furniture Warehouse by renovating it into a lavish new city hall.

I’d love to see Reisz put to use, just not like this. To understand why, let’s follow the money.

Dating to 1852, the Reisz building has been a flour mill, funeral home and shirt factory. Purchased by Schmitt Furniture in 1988, it served mostly as cheap storage.

At any point during three decades, Schmitt might have opted to “save” Reisz but didn’t, and so a central point of Mayor Jeff Gahan’s case for adaptive reuse is a suddenly urgent need to rectify the "dilapidated” building’s “neglect” (his words).

Apparently there are no penalties in New Albany for structure abuse.

Last August the Redevelopment Commission authorized funds for Gahan’s relocation project, at the time neither subject to an RFP (request for proposal), nor approved by city council. Detailed explanations were offered by Denton Floyd Real Estate Group, with whom Gahan is partnering, as though the deal already had been sealed.

Perhaps this occurred when former redevelopment tsar David Duggins accompanied Denton Floyd last fall for a limousine junket to Keeneland.

By May of 2018, the RFP formality was hurdled. $750,000 passed from Redevelopment to Denton Floyd, including the purchase price of $390,000, with the remainder to empty the building of junk.

Denton Floyd would complete the 23,000-square-foot buildout for city hall’s relocation (currently City Hall uses 6,500 sq. ft. at the City County Building), with a 15-year “rent to own” lease.

Yearly payments will be $570,000, or $8,500,000 over 15 years. By comparison, $200,000 during the same period in the City County Building totals $3,000,000. Another $500,000 is approved for office furnishings, surely a low estimate.

Ten months ago the city’s combined yearly cost at Reisz was estimated at $215,000. It’s more than tripled since then, with just shy of $10,000,000 committed to the project. The total cost of ownership inevitably will rise; in addition to inevitable price hikes, county officials insist the city remains bound to its current landlord. Lawsuits are likely.

20% of the city’s population lives below the poverty line, yet Gahan, who concurrently seeks to demolish half our public housing units, wants to spend an additional $370,000 - $400,000 yearly on city offices, citing the ripple effects of economic development that relocation will generate.

We should be asking whether these ripple effects are real or imagined.

The most persistent advocate of the Reisz project is David Barksdale, historic preservationist and city councilman, who thinks Reisz must be renovated at any cost, and presumably, since limitless costs are government’s responsibility, seeks largess from a bottomless well of cash.

Barksdale touts the project as “skin in the game,” a way of showing downtown stakeholders that City Hall stands with them.

After all, entrepreneurs and small independent business owners have invested $60 million or more into downtown during the past decade, while enjoying few of the subsidies available to suburban industrial park occupants.

Barksdale’s argument is flawed. Private investors spend their own money, but the money required for the municipality’s funding of a single speculative historic preservation project isn’t cash from Gahan’s or Barksdale’s pockets.

Rather, this “skin” belongs to the city’s taxpayers – and they haven’t been asked.

Naturally downtown stakeholders need functional “skin” in the game, this being shared, collective infrastructure, including streets, sewers, police and firefighters. These are grassroots needs, citywide.

City Hall spending almost $10 million on itself? That’s a top-down want.

Some compare a new city hall with the YMCA. It’s absurd. The YMCA brings people downtown who might not otherwise come. Moving city offices three whole blocks changes nothing. The same workers come to work, and they eat the same lunch. There is no net gain.

Furthermore, a relocated city hall threatens to bump Harvest Homecoming’s kiddie rides from its current location, posing a financial hardship for the city’s premier annual festival.

As for the exaggerated rhetoric of historic preservation, $7 million for one additional restored historic building won’t be diverting tour buses.

Numerous structures of historic significance lie within a five minute stroll of Reisz. No study has been conducted to determine whether one of them might be suitable as city hall. No other options even have been considered. If floated as a referendum, this relocation boondoggle probably would lose 70%-30%, or worse.

Ironically Morris, a proponent of unified city-county government (uni-gov), can’t see that Gahan’s interest in city hall relocation is politically motivated, having nothing to do with historic preservation or the Reisz building itself apart from the utility of prying away Barksdale’s council vote to restore Gahan’s control of an otherwise lapsed majority.

City hall’s relocation addresses Gahan’s pathological hatred of uni-gov. He’d secede from the county if allowed, and he’d relocate HQ to a suitably luxurious pole barn if one existed. Plainly, the aim is political preservation for Gahan and Democrats, and Reisz is just one move in a chess game to stave off power-sharing with the county.

Shouldn’t we wait until municipal elections in 2019 to discuss moving city hall?

Let your councilman know this mandate (if any) should come from the people, not the city’s ruling elites.

---

Recent columns:

June 12: 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.

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.

Thursday, June 14, 2018

GREEN MOUSE SAYS: Latest Reisz City Hall cost estimate reaches $9,250,000 -- and the tote board keeps spinning.


Previously the Green Mouse suggested that at least $390,000 had passed from Redevelopment to Denton Floyd to defray the purchase price of the former Reisz Furniture building.

ON THE AVENUES: Histrionic preservation? $8.5 9.25 million to gift Jeff Gahan with a new city hall "want" is inexcusable and simply obscene in a time of societal need.


The Mouse has since been persuaded that $750,000 is closer to the mark, as it pertains to accounting for the money already spent by City Hall to facilitate a new city hall -- whether it's reflected by Redevelopment accounting or not.

With there being no dispute that annual rent-to-own payments of $570,000 will total $8.5 million over the 15-year life of the agreement, the Mouse proposes that $9.25 million be used as the latest, best cost estimate -- and this is before moving expenses, interior decor, computers, tables, chairs and other top o' the line equipment is purchased.

The final city council vote will come at the Monday, July 2 meeting.

Tuesday, June 12, 2018

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.

---

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. 

---

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.

---

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.

---

* with a nod to the Bookseller.

---

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.

Monday, November 27, 2017

Great Unanswered Questions, Volume 1: How many Bicentennial books were sold, and who paid for the ones that didn't sell?

Throughout history, mankind has grappled with vexing existential questions.

Does God exist?
What's the meaning of life?
Why are we here?

Conversely, NA Confidential's questions are far more down to earth, even if answers to them tend to be just as infuriatingly elusive as the those queries pertaining to the wider cosmos.

From time to time, I'll be recalling some of these questions. Today, another look at New Albany's “official” (and Caesar-approved) Bicentennial book, “Historic New Albany, Indiana: By the River’s Edge.”


  • How many of the books were sold?
  • Was the Redevelopment Commission loan ever paid back?
  • Why are the Bicentennial Commission financial records not in possession of the city?


Why should the answers to questions like these depend on the identity of the person asking them?

---

PART I:

January 7, 2014
On the Bicentennial's Crutchfield seat cushions: How many were sold? Was the loan paid back?

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.

---

PART II:

January 5, 2017
Bob Caesar and City Hall still won't divulge the bicentennial book details, but at least my letter to the newspaper was published, and I've got THAT going for me.

In 2013, New Albany city councilman Bob Caesar was chairman of New Albany’s Bicentennial Commission. 800-odd 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 them?

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. I’ve been stonewalled ever since.

Earlier in 2016, when I reminded Caesar of his obligation to taxpayers, he told me to file an open records request with City Hall. I did, and was stalled by city attorney Shane Gibson for 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?

---

PART III:

March 30, 2017
ON THE AVENUES: Our great and noble leader is here to stay, so let's break out the țuică and make a joyful noise.

... Consider one of Gahan’s chief acolytes, self-important councilman Bob Caesar, who formerly served as nominal Ceaușescu of the Bicentennial Commission.

Most readers are aware of my two-year-long struggle to wrest public Bicentennial Commission financial records, first from Caesar and then the city itself, only to be dismissed with supreme condescension by both.

To repeat: The celebration of New Albany’s two-hundred-year birthday cost several hundred thousand dollars, and was funded in part with taxpayer funds. I’m a citizen of New Albany. Caesar refused to show me the records, and the city attorney Gibson said the city doesn’t have the records to show.

In short: Go peddle your papers, insufferable peasant.

This is amazing, and it should be unacceptable; absolute power corrupts absolutely, and any mayor who takes seriously his obligation to enforce the law shouldn’t allow it.

However, I’m happy to announce that the Green Mouse has obtained these Bicentennial records. Fascinating revelations lie within, and copies currently are in my possession, illustrating plainly that while Caesar and Gibson may not have lied outright, they certainly have acquiesced in a cover-up, and are guilty of consciously subverting the intent of state laws governing freedom of information and public access to records.

This should disturb all of us, and both should be cashiered. If they’ll resort to evasions and subterfuge to obscure Caesar’s handling of relatively paltry Bicentennial funds, just think what they’ll do to obscure the leakage from the many yearly millions going toward feel-good, beautification projects.

And yet … you’re bothered, but only a bit, and not enough to rock the boat, right?

The newspaper doesn’t ask these questions, does it?

In more candid moments, it may seem like smoke and mirrors, but just enough of that magic pixie dust is being spread around to encourage acceptance.

Isn’t it?

And you’re fine with it, aren’t you?

The fact is, if I were to spend 40 more hours of my own time, gratis, to sifting through the records the Politburo has denied exist, in order to show that lots of Bicentennial bucks were hemorrhaged this way and that, often straight to community pillars and/or political party stalwarts who nuzzled up to wet their beaks – as I'm completely confident I could – nothing at all would happen, would it?

They wouldn’t concede error or apologize, would they?

You wouldn’t expect it, would you?

And this is a slight problem, isn’t it?

I’m not ruling anything out, or in. I might take the time to sort through those records, or maybe use those precious hours to drink beer and watch documentaries about tin horn dictatorships the world has known.

But there isn’t much one person alone can do to prevent Jeff Gahan from redesigning New Albany in his own beige image, and as the sainted Bob Knight once implied, if tacky Disney totalitarianism is inevitable, then we might as well escalate plans for a new barroom in order to have somewhere to seek refuge from the sheer indignity of it.

That's exactly what I'm working to achieve, and when it finally comes to pass, I promise to place portraits of Ceaușescu and Gahan right where they belong, at the entrance to the toilets.

Or better yet, inside them.

Thursday, January 05, 2017

Bob Caesar and City Hall still won't divulge the bicentennial book details, but at least my letter to the newspaper was published, and I've got THAT going for me.


The News and Tribune's word limit on letters to the editor is insane. It allows just enough time for two, maybe three declarative sentences. I try to avoid writing at a 3rd grade level, so at least there's that.

Thanks, Hanson.

Apparently there was a technical glitch during the submission, but happily, my letter now has been published, as previously recounted here:

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?

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

The letter also was read into city council minutes at the final meeting of 2016.


You'll note that the last sentence was omitted by the newspaper in spite of my heroic adherence to their fetish.

If they’ll willing to go to these lengths to cover up dated Bicentennial financial records, what else is being hidden?

I repeat, and will continue to repeat: Yes, I'm an ass, but this should have no bearing on the ability of local government to provide public records like these when requested by Joe or Josephine Six Pack.

There'll come a time when Team Gahan finally is held accountable for excesses like this, and when that time arrives, do me a favor, will ya, and recall that you read it here first.

Thursday, December 15, 2016

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.

---

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?

---

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?

Sunday, December 04, 2016

(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.

---

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)

(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.

Eight more months have dragged past since my last update on March 14, 2016, which is repeated below. Finally, after 600 days, I've received an answer, which is explained in detail in the second of two posts.

(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?

"The City does not possess the above referenced items."

Why has Bob Caesar (and now Shane Gibson) stonewalled a simple information request from a taxpaying citizen, and for 600 days? The following explanation provides an overview; it appeared on November 2, 2015.

---


I'd sugarcoat it if I could, but it isn't possible. If you live in the 2nd council district, you're simply doomed for the next four years in terms of council representation.

Incumbent Bob Caesar vows to do anything possible to rectify street design deficiencies so long as nothing is done to rectify street design deficiencies.

Challenger Irv Stumler agrees, and ups the ante by promising to demolish any unsightly object, because appearances are all that matter.

In short, two well-off elderly white men, vying to see which of them imposes the same vision of anchors-in-place propriety on a fluid situation, with neither of them grasping anything that has occurred since about 1974, as experienced by the rest of us out here in the real world.

And then there's the legacy of our city's Bicentennial celebration two years ago.


Way back on January 7, 2014, we asked:

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


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.

A pile of these books surely still exist, unsold and destined to be dispersed at every glad-handing political photo opportunity between now and the Tricentennial, as at the dedication of Underground Station in the fall of 2015.

Look under the mayor's arm.


Dig it: Your life savings invested in a local independent business amid the economic development director's incessant protests that nothing can be done by the city to help you, and then when zero hour arrives, they hand you a Bicentennial book and scatter, never to be seen again until the day you drive past the Bob Evans and see all those city vehicles parked there.

But enough of chagrin.

Let's get back to Tiberius Severus Octavian Elagabalus Septimius Augustus Claudius Hadrian, the Protector of Pearl, Deliverer of all Downtown Datedness, Master of the Mercantile, and Guardian of the Gates.

Earlier this year (probably April) I used a portion of non-agenda speaking time at a city council meeting to ask Bob Caesar publicly about the Bicentennial finances in general, and the book in particular.

My question came almost two years after Vic Megenity urged the council to audit the Bicentennial commission, a request swept under the rug as council heads gravely nodded and the Gahan administration  shifted into full retribution mode, subjecting Megenity to the usual Coffey-led ritualistic scourging for daring to differ openly with The DemoDixieDisneycratic Machine.

In fact, my council meeting question to Caesar came at about the same time that the Sanctioned Monument to the Glorious Usual Heroes of the Bicentennial Park Cash Unlimited Uprising was being installed, this being the plaque omitting Megenity's name -- they may not read books, but it doesn't mean they don't know their knee-jerk Orwell behavioral tics.

In April, Caesar said he'd get the information for me. In early June, I realized Caesar had never done so, so I e-mailed him.

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.

The following day, Caesar replied.

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.

Baylor: But surely they are available for perusal? Does it explain the ultimate disposition of the books? And, with whom would I speak with to get a copy? Thanks for your prompt attention.

Caesar: Give me a little time and I'll get them.

Roughly 118 days passed, and I tried again in an e-mail on October 5, 2015.

I was reminded that it's been a few months. Do you have this (book) information yet?

Caesar did not respond, but I saw him at Harvest Homecoming just a few days later and asked whether he received the e-mail. He nodded assent. I told him there was no particular hurry, but I'd love to see the figures. He said okay.

Another three weeks have passed, and the election's tomorrow. I think you know why I haven't seen the financials yet, and won't be viewing them until Wednesday at the earliest.

But Jeff Gahan says he doesn't agree with anyone who believes his team isn't transparent -- and make no mistake, Caesar is on Gahan's team.


So, Bob ... these many months later ... think there's any chance we might be able to view the Bicentennial finances, and learn how many of those books remain unsold?

At some point before the Tricentennial?

Thanks.