Last Friday at the filing deadline, I could have sworn we all saw the name of Ken Brooks next to that of Pat McLaughlin on the DemoDixieDisneycrat ledger in District 4. We even joked about it, given that Brooks appears to have worked at Endris Jewelers: Wonder what Paddy Mac did to annoy Tiberius Severus Octavian Elagabalus Septimius Augustus Claudius Hadrian CeeSaw, the Protector of Pearl, Deliverer of all Downtown Datedness, Master of the Mercantile, and Guardian of the Gates?
No matter; never mind.
Brooks's name is gone, presumably withdrawn. Perhaps Caesar made his point and was offered suitable tribute -- opposition to a rational street network, perhaps?
---
CITY OF NEW ALBANY COUNCIL MEMBER DISTRICT 4
(Precincts New Albany 11, 13, 20, 24, 25)
D Pat McLaughlin 1739 Florence Ave
R Ross Heinz 716 Academy Dr # 15
---
Heinz has no campaign material in sight, but it looks like this probably is him on Facebook: IU Southeast poli-sci grad, and friends with all the freshly scrubbed, right Republicans. But give the GOP credit: They're finding young candidates to contest the district races, while three of the best young Democrats are massed together in the at-large group -- arguably the most difficult slate of all from which to advance.
McLaughlin, who occupies the crucial role of Gahan Super Whip on the council, has no known Internet presence. Any metaphorical resemblance to the degraded state of New Albany's political culture is purely intentional.
If you live in the 4th council district and might like to run as an independent candidate in the fall, let me know. We have plenty to discuss.
See the complete primary election listings right here.
Showing posts with label orgasmic CeeSaw antics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label orgasmic CeeSaw antics. Show all posts
Thursday, February 12, 2015
Sunday, March 30, 2014
But first, a CeeSaw digression: "The Fascist Automobile vs. Bicycle Rebellion."
Councilman Bob "CeeSaw" Caesar has uttered so much white-bread blather over the years that it would require a full-time archivist to annotate the quotes, which we'd then be throwing into the fireplace, anyway, better to save on a long winter's heating bills.
One time just after we first clashed over the one-way street grid, and in CeeSaw's best 1960s-era verbiage, borrowed from a time when he undoubtedly occupied the city's defense ramparts all alone, besuited, starched and buttoned-down, heroically facing the long-haired hippie freaks advancing like drugs-and-free-sex zombies toward his well-ordered foyer, Caesar referred to me as anti-establishment. Or maybe it was counter-cultural, or both.
His scorn was as palpable as my pride.
The point, however, is that my flaming radicalism of the sort that sends cautious jewelry buyers scurrying is as quaint and peaceful as Bob Caesar's "but really, I'm still a Democrat" innate Romneyism when compared elsewhere.
Like here.
The Fascist Automobile vs. Bicycle Rebellion (Rebel Metropolis)
... Instead of leveling the playing field by democratizing our common street space the way bikes do, automobiles prompt us to often engage in sociopathic behavior that’s hostile, selfish, dangerous, and downright fascist.
Tuesday, January 07, 2014
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.”
Friday, October 04, 2013
REWIND: We love a parade, unless …
This column originally was published in the local 'Bama newspaper on October 8, 2009.
---
“CC, I just don’t get it. Why are we having a pay raise at three in the morning on a Sunday?”
Councilman Cappuccino glared at the ventriloquist dummy seated next to him on the riding lawnmower. He had other bologna to barbecue at the moment.
Like: Where were all the little people?
And: Where was the Citizens Faux Accountability float?
He’d been promised a million taxpayer turnout, and now here it was, crunch time, and nothing – well, nothing except that strange woman dressed up like a male college professor, waving her (his?) “NO” sign at the drunkard sleeping on the sidewalk outside the deserted Luddite Bar and Grill and babbling about teabags.
“It’s a PARADE, not a pay raise. It’s a wonder I get anything undone around here.”
Cappuccino spat.
“Li’l Stevie, I already told you. Them people wouldn’t let us in their high-falutin’ parade last Saturday. True, the application was late, but the Englandites, the parade committee, the Democrats, the Republicans, them pergessives – they’re all against us, every single one of ‘em.”
“But CC, I thought we were Democrats, too. Isn’t that what it says on my yard signs? What are we, anyway? Are we Yeller Dogs?”
Cappuccino felt the clinch of his inner copperhead. “That’s BLUE Dogs, not yeller. Durn it, we’re more Democrat than all them people are. We’re so Democrat, we’re actually Republican.”
“Is that why we’re against everything, CC?”
Hmm, thought Cappuccino as he fondled his ceremonial toilet key. Maybe that IS it, after all.
---
“Let’s get this protest march … I mean, this parade … on the road.”
Cappuccino clambered up on the seat of the riding lawnmower. Pawing his antique plastic Captain Marvel bullhorn, he turned to address the throng gathered behind him.
“Remember, we’re mad as heck. All them people getting the breaks, and us not getting the right information, and then they want to come and take the EDIT subsidy off the sewer bills – don’t they know that this year’s parade theme is Gloom, Despair and Agony on All of Us, Each and Every One?”
A lone stray mutt sprawled in the gravel moaned. Was this crazy human going to feed him, or not?
“All right, let’s go!”
Sputtering and coughing, the Regress Express eased onto Spring Street and headed west.
“Watch out, CC,” exclaimed Li’l Stevie. “You’re in the bike lane, boss. It’s illegal to mow the bike lane.”
I wouldn’t worry about that,” replied Cappuccino through clenched teeth. “We’re against ordinance enforcement, remember?”
“I thought that was just because of my rental properties. Look, CC, there’s one over there. It’s that quadplex cardboard box. I can’t believe they were throwing that one away. We’re hurtin’, don’t you know?
The pitch black autumn night sky gradually laced with streaks of light as Cappuccino’s convoy neared the historic business district. Li’l Stevie picked up his banjo and began rendering.
TWANG
C’mon people now
Smile on your brother
If it just would’ve been $4.8 million and not a mere 870 g’s
We could’ve shut this mother down, right now
TWANG
---
“Look at what you went and made me do,” bellowed a red-faced Cappuccino. “I missed the turn on Bank Street! Now what?”
“Heck, I wanted to see the patio the ratepayers built,” said Li’l Stevie, “but that’s okay. Take a left on Pearl, and we’ll double back and close down Hewie’s.”
As Cappuccino gently guided the festive lawnmower left onto Pearl, a grandly costumed figure suddenly leaped into his path. What remained of the transmission was disengaged, and Li’l Stevie went crashing into the moon tea jug.
“Halt, interlopers. You shall not pass!”
Standing before them was a fully armored Roman centurion, complete with diamond-studded breastplate and 24-carat plumed helmet.
(“It’s one of them revenuers, CC,” whispered Li’l Stevie. “Hide the pull tabs, fast, and call the VFW.”)
There was much clanking and clanging of iron and steel as the man lowered his Latinate scroll.
“It is I – 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. I have embarked on a valiant campaign against invading barbarian parade watchers, for which the city shall be eternally grateful. We will meet them on the plains, and in the forests, and in the streets, and out behind the floodwall … ”
“Wait a minute,” said Li’l Stevie, who’d climbed back on Cappuccino’s knee. “Who do you think you are to stand in the way of progress downtown? This is MY council district to kneecap – right, CC?”
Cappuccino grimaced. “It’s just Councilman CeeSaw.”
CeeSaw struck an appropriately dramatic pose.
“Indeed! Festive parades bring people, and people are a grave threat to walk-up sales. We can’t afford to lose even half of 1/365th of a day of business to a mere event that makes the community happy, even for only half of 1/365th of a day.”
“For heaven’s sake, CeeSaw,” countered Cappuccino. “It’s Sunday morning. Your shop isn’t even open.”
“But what if it was? There’d be all kinds of people down here, and then what would we do? Obviously, you don’t understand retail.”
Distractedly tuning his dobro, Li’l Stevie observed, “CC, this guy makes even less sense than you do.”
”Oh, yeah!”
“Sez who?”
“Who do you think you are, Dan Quixote?”
Their squabbling voices rose with the sun, and a council meeting broke out right there, in the empty downtown street.
---
“CC, I just don’t get it. Why are we having a pay raise at three in the morning on a Sunday?”
Councilman Cappuccino glared at the ventriloquist dummy seated next to him on the riding lawnmower. He had other bologna to barbecue at the moment.
Like: Where were all the little people?
And: Where was the Citizens Faux Accountability float?
He’d been promised a million taxpayer turnout, and now here it was, crunch time, and nothing – well, nothing except that strange woman dressed up like a male college professor, waving her (his?) “NO” sign at the drunkard sleeping on the sidewalk outside the deserted Luddite Bar and Grill and babbling about teabags.
“It’s a PARADE, not a pay raise. It’s a wonder I get anything undone around here.”
Cappuccino spat.
“Li’l Stevie, I already told you. Them people wouldn’t let us in their high-falutin’ parade last Saturday. True, the application was late, but the Englandites, the parade committee, the Democrats, the Republicans, them pergessives – they’re all against us, every single one of ‘em.”
“But CC, I thought we were Democrats, too. Isn’t that what it says on my yard signs? What are we, anyway? Are we Yeller Dogs?”
Cappuccino felt the clinch of his inner copperhead. “That’s BLUE Dogs, not yeller. Durn it, we’re more Democrat than all them people are. We’re so Democrat, we’re actually Republican.”
“Is that why we’re against everything, CC?”
Hmm, thought Cappuccino as he fondled his ceremonial toilet key. Maybe that IS it, after all.
---
“Let’s get this protest march … I mean, this parade … on the road.”
Cappuccino clambered up on the seat of the riding lawnmower. Pawing his antique plastic Captain Marvel bullhorn, he turned to address the throng gathered behind him.
“Remember, we’re mad as heck. All them people getting the breaks, and us not getting the right information, and then they want to come and take the EDIT subsidy off the sewer bills – don’t they know that this year’s parade theme is Gloom, Despair and Agony on All of Us, Each and Every One?”
A lone stray mutt sprawled in the gravel moaned. Was this crazy human going to feed him, or not?
“All right, let’s go!”
Sputtering and coughing, the Regress Express eased onto Spring Street and headed west.
“Watch out, CC,” exclaimed Li’l Stevie. “You’re in the bike lane, boss. It’s illegal to mow the bike lane.”
I wouldn’t worry about that,” replied Cappuccino through clenched teeth. “We’re against ordinance enforcement, remember?”
“I thought that was just because of my rental properties. Look, CC, there’s one over there. It’s that quadplex cardboard box. I can’t believe they were throwing that one away. We’re hurtin’, don’t you know?
The pitch black autumn night sky gradually laced with streaks of light as Cappuccino’s convoy neared the historic business district. Li’l Stevie picked up his banjo and began rendering.
TWANG
C’mon people now
Smile on your brother
If it just would’ve been $4.8 million and not a mere 870 g’s
We could’ve shut this mother down, right now
TWANG
---
“Look at what you went and made me do,” bellowed a red-faced Cappuccino. “I missed the turn on Bank Street! Now what?”
“Heck, I wanted to see the patio the ratepayers built,” said Li’l Stevie, “but that’s okay. Take a left on Pearl, and we’ll double back and close down Hewie’s.”
As Cappuccino gently guided the festive lawnmower left onto Pearl, a grandly costumed figure suddenly leaped into his path. What remained of the transmission was disengaged, and Li’l Stevie went crashing into the moon tea jug.
“Halt, interlopers. You shall not pass!”
Standing before them was a fully armored Roman centurion, complete with diamond-studded breastplate and 24-carat plumed helmet.
(“It’s one of them revenuers, CC,” whispered Li’l Stevie. “Hide the pull tabs, fast, and call the VFW.”)
There was much clanking and clanging of iron and steel as the man lowered his Latinate scroll.
“It is I – 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. I have embarked on a valiant campaign against invading barbarian parade watchers, for which the city shall be eternally grateful. We will meet them on the plains, and in the forests, and in the streets, and out behind the floodwall … ”
“Wait a minute,” said Li’l Stevie, who’d climbed back on Cappuccino’s knee. “Who do you think you are to stand in the way of progress downtown? This is MY council district to kneecap – right, CC?”
Cappuccino grimaced. “It’s just Councilman CeeSaw.”
CeeSaw struck an appropriately dramatic pose.
“Indeed! Festive parades bring people, and people are a grave threat to walk-up sales. We can’t afford to lose even half of 1/365th of a day of business to a mere event that makes the community happy, even for only half of 1/365th of a day.”
“For heaven’s sake, CeeSaw,” countered Cappuccino. “It’s Sunday morning. Your shop isn’t even open.”
“But what if it was? There’d be all kinds of people down here, and then what would we do? Obviously, you don’t understand retail.”
Distractedly tuning his dobro, Li’l Stevie observed, “CC, this guy makes even less sense than you do.”
”Oh, yeah!”
“Sez who?”
“Who do you think you are, Dan Quixote?”
Their squabbling voices rose with the sun, and a council meeting broke out right there, in the empty downtown street.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
With revised lyrics, Jim Reeves explains all.
Put your sweet lips a little closer to the phone
Let's pretend that we're together all alone
I'll tell the man to turn the juke box way down low
And you can tell your friend Old CeeSaw he'll have to go
Whisper to me tell me do you love me true
Or is he holding you the way I do
Though love is blind make up your mind I've got to know
Should I hang up or will you tell Bob he'll have to go?
You can't say the words I want to hear
While you're with another man
Do you want me answer yes or no
Darlin' I will understand
Put your sweet lips a little closer to the phone
Let's pretend that we're together all alone
I'll tell the man to turn the juke box way down low
And you can tell your friend Old CeeSaw he'll have to go
Monday, September 16, 2013
Emperor Caesar in 2011: "Change every street to two way (but) not Pearl Street. Pearl Street will NOT be two way."
In times like these, it's worth remembering that on July 26, 2011, councilman Bob Caesar actually gave his qualified approval for a two-way street conversion in New Albany. Not only did he say these words aloud, but he gave me explicit permission to record and publish them.
"I am for change. Change every street to two way (but) not Pearl Street. Pearl Street will NOT be two way. It's more convenient for people to park without having to drive around the block."
It happened at the infamous merchant mixer meeting, and the context comes in this excerpt. We join the meeting at the point when Caesar quotes numerous studies that he has yet to produce in more than two subsequent years, and just before he explodes into his most quoted tirade ever.
---
Merchant Mixer notes (2): Empty storefronts, Harvest Homecoming and Bob Caesar's all-way street confusion.
Two-way streets: John Rosenbarger explained that the city has procured a Federal street conversion grant subject to various Federal restrictions, which must have a 20% match from the city: $1.6 million from the Feds, and $400,000 from the city. Mayor England volunteered that while it’s “no slam against the council,” it would be the council’s job to find the money, which might come from EDIT.
Councilman, jewelry dealer and part-time Roman centurion Bob Caesar responded by defending the council, and added (italics mine): “One-way is the way to move traffic through a city; it is proven by numerous studies all across the country.”
The discussion continued, with the owners of Preston Art Supply joining Caesar in defending the inviolable sanctity of Pearl Street’s one-way flow, and this led to Caesar stating bluntly, unprompted and aloud:
“Pearl Street will NOT be two-way.”
I asked him how he could say this; he looked away and did not respond, but after the meeting, he walked past me and we had one of the most useless discussions in recent memory. If I were to have stated that 2 + 2 = 4, I'm certain he would disagree.
In short, after I asked him why he invariably opposes change and new ways of thinking about downtown areas, Caesar denied it, and explicitly permitted me to divulge this exact quote:
"I am for change. Change every street to two way (but) not Pearl Street. Pearl Street will NOT be two way. It's more convenient for people to park without having to drive around the block."
Don Preston added that all police departments support one-way street grids. Previously, Kathy Brennan had warned that if streets are two way, big trucks will park in traffic lanes to unload ... and what then? Throughout, listening to it, you'd think that cities are scary places, indeed, and meant for dashing into and away from as quickly as possible, in a car ... always in a car.
I realized (yet again) how so many of the older generation of merchants sincerely believes that whatever works out yonder in the soulless exurb should be implemented downtown, whereas the way I see it is that whatever can be done to create the polar opposite atmosphere downtown – including people-friendly, slower-moving traffic to accommodate humanity, and alternative modes of transportation apart from the automobile – should be the desired goal.
NAC has extensively and exhaustively made the case for two-way streets: Two-way traffic: A city permitted to function as designed is good for business.
All Bob Caesar and a handful of downtown reactionaries can offer in response are “numerous” studies, which he has so far failed to produce, and the admittedly honest (and I believe amazingly self-serving) stance that because he personally regards a one-way street as critical to his business (as though people cruising past a jewelry store are slamming on the brakes when they decide, spur-of-the-moment, to park next to the Endris front door and buy some bracelets), he will damn the torpedoes and impede potential two-way solutions in the same manner as he denounced the aborted proposal to divert the Harvest Homecoming Parade down Pearl Street.
Sometimes, as in the case of the usefulness of two-way streets, the future indeed is the past. A few questions occur to me:
Exactly when was Bob Caesar awarded veto power over the 21st century?
Is it true that Caesar, the most nominal of Democrats, is supporting Jameson Bledsoe, a Republican, in the 3rd district council race?
Am I the only one who cannot wait to see how Develop New Albany manages to avoid takng a position on two-way streets?
And: Why is rationality such a precious commodity 'round here?
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Great quotes along the one-way street to the enchanted kingdom.
I'm not a crook. -- Richard Nixon (1973)
I believe it is peace for our time. -- Neville Chamberlain (1938)
A rocket will never be able to leave the Earth’s atmosphere. -- New York Times (1936)
Television won’t last. It’s a flash in the pan. -- Mary Somerville (1948)
The Beatles laid the groundwork for many of the problems we are having with young people by their filthy unkempt appearances and suggestive music while entertaining in this country during the early and middle 1960s. -- Elvis Presley (1970)
If the street grid works now, keep it and save your money. What do we need to do it for? There’s zero benefit -- Bob Caesar (1815)
Two-way street study eyed in New Albany; Councilman: Zero benefit to two-way traffic downtown, by Daniel Suddeath (News and Tribune)
But while we're at it, let's not neglect councilman Scott Blair's contribution:
"I think we have to try to understand [the situation] the best that we can and not just run out and do something."
By all means; yes. And since we've been talking about this for YEARS, and you seem to have arrived at the discussion just LAST THURSDAY ... I really hate to be the bearer of bad tidings ... but you may just have to try to, well, UNDERSTAND what it is we're saying -- you know, APART from the numbers you're handed for the usual "cost benefit" analysis, and MAYBE with the help of some outside reading.
Homework? For bankers? Oy (grasps head in pain), don't get me started.
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Pedaling: It's okay, but only in the past tense, bicentennially speaking.
Another day, another instance of obliviousness on the part of the bicentennial commission.
Do I really need to spell this out? Again? How many times has it been?
Okay, I will ... just for the record, ma'am.
The bicentennial commission thinks it's peachy keen to gawk at vintage bicycles from the past. Meanwhile, its membership is barely cognizant of biking in the present, much less bearing any record of comprehending or promoting two-wheeling in the future.
Most everything about New Albany's bicentennial celebration must be viewed as wasted opportunities. CeeSaw and Shelle ordained that all of it must take place in a safely sanitized, distant, scrubbed-clean past. Nothing must refer to a future tense; in more diverse hands, we might have had a year-long forum on the future. Instead, we've had stale white bread from the Same.Old.Suspects.
Meanwhile, the newspaper happily reports on bicycles of the past, as I search in vain for coverage of last week's workshop on bike commuting -- and mentions the word "future" in the header, in spite of its perpetual absence, and with no discernible sense of irony.
Dentistry is necessary, because in New Albany, thinking people spend too much time grinding their teeth. Go here to learn about the bicycle commuting workshop.
Pedaling the past into the future, by Darian Eswine (New and Tribune)
NEW ALBANY — Traveling through downtown New Albany on Sunday afternoon, a strange sight was seen as a giant wheel came rolling across the street, pedaled by a man dressed in period costume. He was followed by a parade of similarly dressed people on old bicycles.
The Vintage Bike Parade and Exhibit is one of the many events held this year to celebrate New Albany's 200th birthday, and it was only fitting the event began in the new Bicentennial Park at the corner of Spring and Pearl streets.
Wednesday, June 05, 2013
Shibboleths: Have I mentioned two-way streets recently?
In a pleasant conversation at the package store, a regular blog reader recounted a recent conversation with Bob Caesar -- council person and one-way street fetishist -- in which Caesar advanced the claim (bereft of evidence, of course) that two-way streets would "cause" more accidents.
It eternally fascinates that Caesar, longtime downtown small businessman, continues to favor conditions that directly contradict, and on occasion actively harm, future prospects for small businesses.
His is an exurban mind lodged in a Pearl Street storefront. He'd raze the block for a parking garage next door, and he harbors no evident recognition that any progress we've made in reclaiming New Albany's downtown for human habitation likely will stall if urban walkability is not enhanced -- if urban aspects themselves are not used as the starting point for downtown's redesign.
Walking is not compatible with a higher-speed one way street grid of the sort Caesar craves, but then again, he never walks (or bikes), does he? If he did, he'd get it. Or maybe not. Let's review various refutations of Caesar's most recent knee jerk. First, the overall program.
How One-Way Thinking is Hurting Historic Downtown Neighborhoods, by Matt Hanka, ABD and John Gilderbloom Ph.D.
A key strategy to renewing downtown historic neighborhoods is converting one-way to two-way streets. Oppressive four-lane downtown one-way streets help kill neighborhoods and small businesses. We need to convert these one-way ghetto makers into two-way streets with parking, trees, and bike lanes to calm traffic and make neighborhoods more livable for families, young urban pioneers, and the elderly, who want to live closer to medical care downtown.
One-way streets pose many threats for pedestrian and motorist safety, make city streets seem less safe, disproportionately impact poor and minority neighborhoods, hurt downtown businesses, reduce the property values of homes, and negatively impact the environment and contribute to global warming. Conversions to two-way have already
happened in more than 100 cities around the United States.
These one-way streets also constitute a kind of “environmental racism,” where speeding motorists on one-way streets increase the levels of exhaust, noise, and pollution. One-way streets are predominately located in older downtown neighborhoods in minority, poor and working-class neighborhoods. Engineers claim that "one-way” is the best way because it moves traffic quicker, but they don’t understand the sociological, ecological and economic impacts of a one-way street.
One-way streets have hurt downtown commercial businesses. For instance, on Vine Street in Cincinnati, 40 percent of the businesses closed after conversion from a two-way to a one-way street. One-way streets have a negative impact on storefront exposure, which is lost when one direction of travel is eliminated as well as speeded up.
Has Bob Caesar ever considered the "sociological, ecological and economic impacts" of traffic? There is no record of his having done so.
The point in all of this is that one-way traffic increases speeds, and increased speeds directly correlate with poor street safety, for both autos and non-automotive users.
Studies Refute DOT’s Claim That One-Way Avenues Are Safer, by Sarah Goodyear (streetsblog.org)Then there's the overall efficiency of two-way streets.
... "In traffic engineering circles, the operational disadvantages associated with one-way streets are becoming increasingly recognized. The system...[causes] an increase in the number of turning movements and total miles of travel. One-way streets present challenges to the pedestrian due to speed and pedestrian expectations at intersections... there are simply more (typically 30-40 percent) more vehicle/pedestrian conflicts within a one-way street network than in a comparable two-way system."
Two-Way Street Networks: More Efficient than Previously Thought?, by Vikash V. Gayah (uctc.net)
One-way streets in downtown areas are receiving a critical look. City officials and urban planners have started a movement to convert downtown street networks from their traditional one-way operation to two-way operation ... conversions are intended to improve vehicular access and reduce driver confusion. Many additional factors go into this decision, but the general premise is clear: travelers and residents prefer two-way streets for a variety of economic and livability reasons, while traffic engineers and transportation planners believe that one-way streets serve traffic more efficiently ...
... Two-way streets have also been found to be safer than one-way streets, for several reasons. Although intersections of two-way streets have more conflicting maneuvers, one-way streets correlate with decreased levels of driver attention. One-way streets also allow higher travel speeds since signal timing results in less frequent stops for vehicles. Pedestrians also prefer crossing two-way streets since drivers tend to travel more slowly on them and vehicular conflicts are more predictable.
I'll stop there. At Monday's city council meeting, Greg Phipps discussed an approaching meeting of the council's street grid committee. It's a good first step. Will the legislative body's self-appointed reactionary roadway centurion self-immolate in response?
Tuesday, June 04, 2013
Romulus, Remus appointed as BicenComm co-treasurers as CeeSaw saves the day.
A procession of one descended gaudily from silver-sepia heights, down the Appian Way (formerly known as Spring Street Hill, prior to being paved with taxpayer gold) and steered a firm path toward the polished administrative edifice of Hauss Citadel, where a crisply attired throng awaited, carefully pruning their sacred rubber stamps.
Fully armored, complete with diamond-studded breastplate and 24-carat plumed helmet, the man approached civic destiny amid much clanking and clanging of iron and steel -- and very nearly leveled the local soothsayer known as Shirtless Marvin, who pondered the centurion from his vantage point splayed atop the sidewalk.
"Are you completely fucked up on crystal meth," asked Marvin, "Or is it me?"
"Varlot! How dare you walk these sidewalks naked."
"Isn't that what they're for?"
“Silence, shirtless! Your subsidized housing ilk repels me, for it is I – Tiberius Severus Octavian Elagabalus Septimius Augustus Claudius Hadrian CeeSaw, the Protector of Pearl, Deliverer of all Downtown Datedness, Master of the Mercantile, and Guardian of the Gates. I have embarked on a valiant campaign against invading barbarian hordes, as well as that upstart Vic Megenity, who shall not be permitted to topple my -- I mean, our -- bicentennial apple cart with his scandalous accusations."
"Wait a minute," gasped Marvin. "You're that nutzoid one-way jewelry guy, right?"
"I AM THAT I AM," thundered CeeSaw, menacingly waving his Latinate scroll. "We will meet Megenity on the plains, and in the forests, and in the streets, and out behind the floodwall, and next to wherever Emery Ice Cream is now."
Marvin mopped his brow. "I'm not from here, you know."
"That's unfortunate," gurgled CeeSaw. "Neither is Megenity. One must possess pure unblemished native New Albanian blood to be invited to the bicentennial ice cream social. Perhaps you would consider relocating, say, to Cannelton?"
---
In other news, there'll be no aw-dit of Bob Caesar's plaything ... but at least he abstained from the otherwise unanimous vote against the council compelling itself to pay attention to projects pursued by the city's best and brightest, who as we have learned, can be trusted to ... aw, whatever. Can we just fast forward to 2113?
Daniel Suddeath's newspaper coverage of the June 3 city council meeting is here.
Fully armored, complete with diamond-studded breastplate and 24-carat plumed helmet, the man approached civic destiny amid much clanking and clanging of iron and steel -- and very nearly leveled the local soothsayer known as Shirtless Marvin, who pondered the centurion from his vantage point splayed atop the sidewalk.
"Are you completely fucked up on crystal meth," asked Marvin, "Or is it me?"
"Varlot! How dare you walk these sidewalks naked."
"Isn't that what they're for?"
“Silence, shirtless! Your subsidized housing ilk repels me, for it is I – Tiberius Severus Octavian Elagabalus Septimius Augustus Claudius Hadrian CeeSaw, the Protector of Pearl, Deliverer of all Downtown Datedness, Master of the Mercantile, and Guardian of the Gates. I have embarked on a valiant campaign against invading barbarian hordes, as well as that upstart Vic Megenity, who shall not be permitted to topple my -- I mean, our -- bicentennial apple cart with his scandalous accusations."
"Wait a minute," gasped Marvin. "You're that nutzoid one-way jewelry guy, right?"
"I AM THAT I AM," thundered CeeSaw, menacingly waving his Latinate scroll. "We will meet Megenity on the plains, and in the forests, and in the streets, and out behind the floodwall, and next to wherever Emery Ice Cream is now."
Marvin mopped his brow. "I'm not from here, you know."
"That's unfortunate," gurgled CeeSaw. "Neither is Megenity. One must possess pure unblemished native New Albanian blood to be invited to the bicentennial ice cream social. Perhaps you would consider relocating, say, to Cannelton?"
---
In other news, there'll be no aw-dit of Bob Caesar's plaything ... but at least he abstained from the otherwise unanimous vote against the council compelling itself to pay attention to projects pursued by the city's best and brightest, who as we have learned, can be trusted to ... aw, whatever. Can we just fast forward to 2113?
Daniel Suddeath's newspaper coverage of the June 3 city council meeting is here.
Friday, January 18, 2013
Future site of church steeple viewing zone.
At last evening's council gathering, the third reading of a bill to tithe $75,000 from EDIT against matching grants to repair the steeple of the Second Baptist Church was approved. Greg Phipps and Scott Blair voted against it, and Kevin Zurschmiede was absent.
Earlier in the day, I took the above photograph. To the rear left, the Reisz building can be glimpsed; last year, 2nd district council person Bob Caesar worked assiduously to prevent it and adjacent neglected buildings from being redeveloped.
In the upper right, there's Bill Allen's eternal pile of moldering rubble; recently, the city's movers and shakers suddenly became pro-active after thirty years of detached silence and encouraged him to paint (that's right) part of the dilapidation as a form of action, penance, or more likely, hurried masturbation. Not unexpectedly, the paint job has done little to arrest the slumlord's masterpiece of decay, but sometimes -- as with the entirety of the city's Doris Day-worthy Bicentennial plan -- it's only about appearances, to the exclusion of content.
In the middle of the photo there's a big, gaping, garbage-strewn, chronically unaddressed vacant spot just out of view, and the seedy sidewalk, perhaps last considered during the Eisenhower administration, occupies center stage. This is the spot where people will gather to stand and admire the church steeple, deemed so vital when SO MANY OTHER THINGS IN THIS TOWN NEED TO BE DONE.
(thanks to LM for the subject heading)
Saturday, January 05, 2013
Recalling how the human progress retardant helped keep the Reisz building dilapidated into 2013.
Still wonderfully and delightfully decrepit, the old Reisz Furniture building and adjacent rotting structures greet the New Year. Remember last year, when there was a proposal afoot to rehab these spaces, and Councilman Bob Caesar took time from his busy schedule of Crutchfield-fluffing to sabotage it?
Looking for the best New Albany bicentennial legacy of all? Keep reading.
CeeSaw's in the news again as Redevelopment defies the CM's weighty IRS tome (August 15, 2012).
Meanwhile, the affordable seniors project involving the long dormant Reisz building -- you remember, the one Bob Caesar defeated by doing a dramatic council rain dance with an Internal Revenue tax concordance held aloft to catch rays of Mitt Romney's abstinent light -- made preliminary sense to Redevelopment, although without the presence of dual council/commission members who dashed away lest they learn something, and now can be expected to solemnly swear that they were cruelly the information they missed by leaving before the second act.
---
Speaking of the riverfront, let's check the class warfare front (March 4, 2012).
Neither Zurschmiede nor Caesar have commented publicly as to what they feel might be a better way to rehab the long neglected Reisz building than the Sterling proposal. Concurrently, they both seem to approve subsidies to build something on the part of a development group with absolutely no money, rather than to incentivize another development group with money enough to a least complete plans without its open palm garishly extended.
If class warfare does not explain these attitudes, then what does?
---
Shambolic NA: Big ticket jewelry and lower-income tax credits (February 25, 2012).
As the excerpts here illustrate, rental housing owner Kevin Zurschmiede voted both ways while wearing different hats, putting him into position to tie King Larry's all-time flip-flop record by abstaining the next time it comes up ... and the developer did not fail to notice it. The administration took no public position until after the state declined credits. Councilman Caesar, who has contributed no known plan for assisting downtown revitalization beyond opposing two-way streets, outsourcing Bicentennial projects to out of state mercenaries and enabling condos-for-the-wealthy-some-time-way-down-the-road, was able to blithely rationalize his contempt for the less well off by waving a mimeograph of the tax code.
Monday, November 05, 2012
Partying like it's 1993 (or 1900) as parks secession legislation passes.
(The council president tries in vain to extinguish the hallowed torch of city park liberty)
Via Twitter, the News and Tribune's Daniel Suddeath reports that the city and county park system's divorce is final.
Earlier in the evening, I predicted on Twitter that Bob "CeeSaw" Caesar would live up to my escalating disdain and change his vote. As you can see, he flipped. Somewhere out in his garage, King Larry Kochert is tumescent, and maybe even incandescent.
Saturday, October 06, 2012
REWIND: We love a parade, unless …
This column originally was published in the local 'Bama newspaper on October 8, 2009.
---
“CC, I just don’t get it. Why are we having a pay raise at three in the morning on a Sunday?”
Councilman Cappuccino glared at the ventriloquist dummy seated next to him on the riding lawnmower. He had other bologna to barbecue at the moment.
Like: Where were all the little people?
And: Where was the Citizens Faux Accountability float?
He’d been promised a million taxpayer turnout, and now here it was, crunch time, and nothing – well, nothing except that strange woman dressed up like a male college professor, waving her (his?) “NO” sign at the drunkard sleeping on the sidewalk outside the deserted Luddite Bar and Grill and babbling about teabags.
“It’s a PARADE, not a pay raise. It’s a wonder I get anything undone around here.”
Cappuccino spat.
“Li’l Stevie, I already told you. Them people wouldn’t let us in their high-falutin’ parade last Saturday. True, the application was late, but the Englandites, the parade committee, the Democrats, the Republicans, them pergessives – they’re all against us, every single one of ‘em.”
“But CC, I thought we were Democrats, too. Isn’t that what it says on my yard signs? What are we, anyway? Are we Yeller Dogs?”
Cappuccino felt the clinch of his inner copperhead. “That’s BLUE Dogs, not yeller. Durn it, we’re more Democrat than all them people are. We’re so Democrat, we’re actually Republican.”
“Is that why we’re against everything, CC?”
Hmm, thought Cappuccino as he fondled his ceremonial toilet key. Maybe that IS it, after all.
---
“Let’s get this protest march … I mean, this parade … on the road.”
Cappuccino clambered up on the seat of the riding lawnmower. Pawing his antique plastic Captain Marvel bullhorn, he turned to address the throng gathered behind him.
“Remember, we’re mad as heck. All them people getting the breaks, and us not getting the right information, and then they want to come and take the EDIT subsidy off the sewer bills – don’t they know that this year’s parade theme is Gloom, Despair and Agony on All of Us, Each and Every One?”
A lone stray mutt sprawled in the gravel moaned. Was this crazy human going to feed him, or not?
“All right, let’s go!”
Sputtering and coughing, the Regress Express eased onto Spring Street and headed west.
“Watch out, CC,” exclaimed Li’l Stevie. “You’re in the bike lane, boss. It’s illegal to mow the bike lane.”
I wouldn’t worry about that,” replied Cappuccino through clenched teeth. “We’re against ordinance enforcement, remember?”
“I thought that was just because of my rental properties. Look, CC, there’s one over there. It’s that quadplex cardboard box. I can’t believe they were throwing that one away. We’re hurtin’, don’t you know?
The pitch black autumn night sky gradually laced with streaks of light as Cappuccino’s convoy neared the historic business district. Li’l Stevie picked up his banjo and began rendering.
TWANG
C’mon people now
Smile on your brother
If it just would’ve been $4.8 million and not a mere 870 g’s
We could’ve shut this mother down, right now
TWANG
---
“Look at what you went and made me do,” bellowed a red-faced Cappuccino. “I missed the turn on Bank Street! Now what?”
“Heck, I wanted to see the patio the ratepayers built,” said Li’l Stevie, “but that’s okay. Take a left on Pearl, and we’ll double back and close down Hewie’s.”
As Cappuccino gently guided the festive lawnmower left onto Pearl, a grandly costumed figure suddenly leaped into his path. What remained of the transmission was disengaged, and Li’l Stevie went crashing into the moon tea jug.
“Halt, interlopers. You shall not pass!”
Standing before them was a fully armored Roman centurion, complete with diamond-studded breastplate and 24-carat plumed helmet.
(“It’s one of them revenuers, CC,” whispered Li’l Stevie. “Hide the pull tabs, fast, and call the VFW.”)
There was much clanking and clanging of iron and steel as the man lowered his Latinate scroll.
“It is I – 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. I have embarked on a valiant campaign against invading barbarian parade watchers, for which the city shall be eternally grateful. We will meet them on the plains, and in the forests, and in the streets, and out behind the floodwall … ”
“Wait a minute,” said Li’l Stevie, who’d climbed back on Cappuccino’s knee. “Who do you think you are to stand in the way of progress downtown? This is MY council district to kneecap – right, CC?”
Cappuccino grimaced. “It’s just Councilman CeeSaw.”
CeeSaw struck an appropriately dramatic pose.
“Indeed! Festive parades bring people, and people are a grave threat to walk-up sales. We can’t afford to lose even half of 1/365th of a day of business to a mere event that makes the community happy, even for only half of 1/365th of a day.”
“For heaven’s sake, CeeSaw,” countered Cappuccino. “It’s Sunday morning. Your shop isn’t even open.”
“But what if it was? There’d be all kinds of people down here, and then what would we do? Obviously, you don’t understand retail.”
Distractedly tuning his dobro, Li’l Stevie observed, “CC, this guy makes even less sense than you do.”
‘”Oh, yeah!”
“Sez who?”
“Who do you think you are, Dan Quixote?”
Their squabbling voices rose with the sun, and a council meeting broke out right there, in the empty downtown street.
---
“CC, I just don’t get it. Why are we having a pay raise at three in the morning on a Sunday?”
Councilman Cappuccino glared at the ventriloquist dummy seated next to him on the riding lawnmower. He had other bologna to barbecue at the moment.
Like: Where were all the little people?
And: Where was the Citizens Faux Accountability float?
He’d been promised a million taxpayer turnout, and now here it was, crunch time, and nothing – well, nothing except that strange woman dressed up like a male college professor, waving her (his?) “NO” sign at the drunkard sleeping on the sidewalk outside the deserted Luddite Bar and Grill and babbling about teabags.
“It’s a PARADE, not a pay raise. It’s a wonder I get anything undone around here.”
Cappuccino spat.
“Li’l Stevie, I already told you. Them people wouldn’t let us in their high-falutin’ parade last Saturday. True, the application was late, but the Englandites, the parade committee, the Democrats, the Republicans, them pergessives – they’re all against us, every single one of ‘em.”
“But CC, I thought we were Democrats, too. Isn’t that what it says on my yard signs? What are we, anyway? Are we Yeller Dogs?”
Cappuccino felt the clinch of his inner copperhead. “That’s BLUE Dogs, not yeller. Durn it, we’re more Democrat than all them people are. We’re so Democrat, we’re actually Republican.”
“Is that why we’re against everything, CC?”
Hmm, thought Cappuccino as he fondled his ceremonial toilet key. Maybe that IS it, after all.
---
“Let’s get this protest march … I mean, this parade … on the road.”
Cappuccino clambered up on the seat of the riding lawnmower. Pawing his antique plastic Captain Marvel bullhorn, he turned to address the throng gathered behind him.
“Remember, we’re mad as heck. All them people getting the breaks, and us not getting the right information, and then they want to come and take the EDIT subsidy off the sewer bills – don’t they know that this year’s parade theme is Gloom, Despair and Agony on All of Us, Each and Every One?”
A lone stray mutt sprawled in the gravel moaned. Was this crazy human going to feed him, or not?
“All right, let’s go!”
Sputtering and coughing, the Regress Express eased onto Spring Street and headed west.
“Watch out, CC,” exclaimed Li’l Stevie. “You’re in the bike lane, boss. It’s illegal to mow the bike lane.”
I wouldn’t worry about that,” replied Cappuccino through clenched teeth. “We’re against ordinance enforcement, remember?”
“I thought that was just because of my rental properties. Look, CC, there’s one over there. It’s that quadplex cardboard box. I can’t believe they were throwing that one away. We’re hurtin’, don’t you know?
The pitch black autumn night sky gradually laced with streaks of light as Cappuccino’s convoy neared the historic business district. Li’l Stevie picked up his banjo and began rendering.
TWANG
C’mon people now
Smile on your brother
If it just would’ve been $4.8 million and not a mere 870 g’s
We could’ve shut this mother down, right now
TWANG
---
“Look at what you went and made me do,” bellowed a red-faced Cappuccino. “I missed the turn on Bank Street! Now what?”
“Heck, I wanted to see the patio the ratepayers built,” said Li’l Stevie, “but that’s okay. Take a left on Pearl, and we’ll double back and close down Hewie’s.”
As Cappuccino gently guided the festive lawnmower left onto Pearl, a grandly costumed figure suddenly leaped into his path. What remained of the transmission was disengaged, and Li’l Stevie went crashing into the moon tea jug.
“Halt, interlopers. You shall not pass!”
Standing before them was a fully armored Roman centurion, complete with diamond-studded breastplate and 24-carat plumed helmet.
(“It’s one of them revenuers, CC,” whispered Li’l Stevie. “Hide the pull tabs, fast, and call the VFW.”)
There was much clanking and clanging of iron and steel as the man lowered his Latinate scroll.
“It is I – 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. I have embarked on a valiant campaign against invading barbarian parade watchers, for which the city shall be eternally grateful. We will meet them on the plains, and in the forests, and in the streets, and out behind the floodwall … ”
“Wait a minute,” said Li’l Stevie, who’d climbed back on Cappuccino’s knee. “Who do you think you are to stand in the way of progress downtown? This is MY council district to kneecap – right, CC?”
Cappuccino grimaced. “It’s just Councilman CeeSaw.”
CeeSaw struck an appropriately dramatic pose.
“Indeed! Festive parades bring people, and people are a grave threat to walk-up sales. We can’t afford to lose even half of 1/365th of a day of business to a mere event that makes the community happy, even for only half of 1/365th of a day.”
“For heaven’s sake, CeeSaw,” countered Cappuccino. “It’s Sunday morning. Your shop isn’t even open.”
“But what if it was? There’d be all kinds of people down here, and then what would we do? Obviously, you don’t understand retail.”
Distractedly tuning his dobro, Li’l Stevie observed, “CC, this guy makes even less sense than you do.”
‘”Oh, yeah!”
“Sez who?”
“Who do you think you are, Dan Quixote?”
Their squabbling voices rose with the sun, and a council meeting broke out right there, in the empty downtown street.
Friday, October 05, 2012
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."
Wednesday, October 03, 2012
Monday, October 01, 2012
Bicentennial funding: Why are we paying for private parties?
A note I sent to some council members today, asking for some rational, bicentennial intervention on behalf of a very left out, largely confused public:
A brief review of funding so far:
Bicentennial Book:
$144,000 (Started with a "loan" from redevelopment. Does anyone know how much?)
Park:
$165,000 purchase price (grossly overpaid)
$50,0000 design (overpaid again)
$520,000 for construction (no one seems to know why such a small park is so expensive)
Other:
$43,000 (earmarked for DNA and Bicentennial out of $100,000 transfer to Board of Public Works)
That puts the City on the hook for between $778,000 and $922,000 already, depending on the amount of the book loan, with little to no oversight. Now they're asking for $85,000 more. That's all in addition to the $275,000 they've received from Horseshoe among other private donations. The total known expenditure so far is about $1.2 million even before tonight's request. I've seen far lesser amounts lead to significant council debates but this money, for some reason, seems to be flowing without much question or understanding of its use.
Beyond the wildly overpriced park, why is the public being asked to fund what are essentially private parties with cover charges that will preclude much of the population from participating? It's one thing to help fund a small number of free-to-the-public events but why should everyone have to pay for lavish, ticketed events that those throwing them should be able to afford on their own?
Please consider turning down the funding request tonight, at the very least for those events which intend to charge for admission even after receiving public subsidy.
Thanks.
$85,000 more, tonight. For what?
There's more Caesar's Folly funding on tap tonight as the city council convenes to avoid the question, "Who's really in charge around here?"
I'm attending a wake and cannot make it, so let's hope either Bluegill or Iamhoosier, or both, can provide a report from the scene of this latest example of the Bicentennial Junta's budge-busting.
Here's the agenda, courtesy of the city clerk.
---
Common City Council Minutes
THE COMMON COUNCIL OF THE CIVIL CITY OF NEW ALBANY, INDIANA, WILL HOLD A REGULAR COUNCIL MEETING IN THE THIRD FLOOR ASSEMBLY ROOM OF THE CITY/COUNTY BUILDING ON MONDAY, OCTOBER 1, 2012 AT 7:30 P.M.
MOMENT OF REFLECTION:
PLEDGE OF ALLEGIANCE:
ROLL CALL:
APPROVAL OR CORRECTION OF THE FOLLOWING MINUTES:
Work Session Meeting Minutes for September 13, 2012
Public Hearing Meeting Minutes (Redistricting) for September 20, 2012
Public Hearing Meeting Minutes (Cooling System) for September 20, 2012
Regular Meeting Minutes for September 20, 2012.
COMMUNICATIONS – PUBLIC:
COMMUNICATIONS – CITY OFFICIALS:
COMMUNICATIONS – MAYOR
APPROVAL OF CF-1 FORMS:
Insulated Roofing Contractors, Compliance with Statement of Benefits referencing R-08-37 (RE)
INTRODUCTION OF ORDINANCES AND RESOLUTIONS: READING
R-12-15 Resolution to Provide Funding to Haven House for the Provision of Homeless Services
Coffey
A-12-20 Appropriation from Riverboat Fund for Bicentennial Events and Operations
Phipps 1&2
A-12-21 Appropriation from EDIT for Restoration of Second Baptist Church Clock Tower
Gonder 1&2
A-12-22 Appropriation from Medical Drug Fund
Caesar 1&2
A-12-23 An Ordinance to Fix Non-Reverting Budgets for the Year 2013 McLaughlin 1&2
A-12-24 An Ordinance Setting Salaries for the Year 2013 for Non-Bargaining Unit Employees
McLaughlin 1&2
A-12-25 Ordinance/Resolution for Appropriations and Tax Rate (New Albany Flood Control)
McLaughlin 1&2
A-12-26 Ordinance/Resolution for Appropriations and Tax Rate (New Albany Civil City)
McLaughlin 1&2
G-12-21 An Ordinance to Allow Any and All Political Parties to Represent the City Council on Boards
Coffey 1&2
G-12-22 An Ordinance to Rescind/Abolish Health Insurance for Part-time Elected Officials
Coffey 1&2
Z-12-18 Ordinance Amending the Code of Ordinances of New Albany, Indiana Title XV Chapter 156 (Commonly known as the “Zoning Ordinance”)
Blair 1&2
BOARD APPOINTMENTS:
MISCELLANEOUS ITEMS:
COMMUNICATIONS – PUBLIC (non-agenda items):
IN COMMITTEE:
G-12-12 An Ordinance Amending the Code of New Albany Title IX: General Regulations, Chapter 99: STREETS AND SIDEWALKS, to include Section 99.03: RIGHT-OF-WAY MANAGEMENT PROGRAM, as permitted under Indiana Code 8-1-2-101, (a) through (d), to provide for the safety of the traveling public in the rights-of-way of the City of New Albany, Indiana.
McLaughlin 3
TABLED ORDINANCES:
A-12-15 Additional Appropriation in an Amount of $210,700 from Riverboat Fund for Upgrade to the Financial Software Systems
McLaughlin 1&2
G-12-20 An Ordinance Amending the City of New Albany Code Chapter 34 Section 17 Regarding Vacation Policies for Nonbargaining Unit Employees
Zurschmiede 1&2
Friday, September 28, 2012
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
