Friday, July 6, 2001 | 4 a.m.
Jon Ralston hosts the public affairs program "Face to Face" on Las Vegas ONE and also publishes the Ralston Report. His column for the Sun appears on Sundays and Wednesdays. Ralston can be reached at 870-7997 or through e-mail at [email protected]
IT OCCURS TO ME in something less than a revelatory vision that there is only one way for the Las Vegas City Council and the Clark County Commission to garner more respect in the community: They need to stop having meetings.
This past week, in a spectacular display of continuous buffoonery and manifest phoniness, the valley's two most powerful local governments raised serious questions about their competence to address the valley's most critical problems. Follow the replay of these performance artists in these dueling Silly Septets:
* How much is that manager in the window? If there were a worse way for county commissioners to handle the transition from one manager to the next, I can't imagine what it would be. First, a couple of them publicly call for the incumbent (Dale Askew) to leave. Then, when Dale Askew agrees to depart, they decline to do a national search, sparking the reflexive media furor.
And as the piece de resistance, a board subcommittee recommends a salary ($193,000) for the new manager (Thom Reilly) that is nearly 25 percent higher than Askew's.
On Tuesday the board actually took an hour to set Reilly's salary close to Askew's, as the commissioners ranged from common sense to uncommon posturing. The only one here who deserves sympathy is Reilly, who is a dedicated, earnest guy walking into a buzzsaw of personality conflicts, ambitious pols and pusillanimous poseurs.
* Why wouldn't you trust us? At their respective meetings, the commissioners and the council folks argued over who should be responsible for overseeing air quality in the valley. And both convincingly made the case that it should be neither of them.
The county folks were alternatively patronizing and downright obnoxious in talking about how they care about the cities and how seriously they take their responsibility -- an exemplar of disingenuosness to justify a raw power play engineered by Erin Kenny and ratified by her colleagues.
A couple of days later the council voted to try to persuade Gov. Kenny Guinn to change his mind about giving the county power over what many believe is the single most important environmental and development issue in Southern Nevada. But as they whined about the decision, offered up legalisms and led by Mayor Oscar Goodman -- engaged in a hyperbolic, rhetorical diatribe -- they presented no plan for their involvement or why they should be included in the process.
If it was confidence you hoped either of these boards would inspire, the quest continues.
* The deliberative process at work: Mayor Oscar Goodman called it the most important decision since he's been in public office. And how much time did the council take to explain to the public why it chose Southwest Sports Group over other bidders on the piece of downtown land His Honor has called the most valuable piece of real estate in America? You could count the time in seconds, not minutes. And you could count the number of speakers on one finger: Goodman.
Welcome to the new downtown revue: Oscar and the Six Mutes -- actually a shellshocked Michael Mack, reeling from an ethics controversy and seeking treatment for his malady, wasn't there.
After they put off a decision two weeks ago ostensibly to think about the proposals, where was the deliberation? We know where it was -- on the 10th floor, behind closed doors, on the most important development decision any of them may ever make.
* Michael who? Councilman Larry Brown spent a hearing Thursday jousting with lawyers suing the city and accusing him and Mack of inappropriate behavior on a car dealership zoning brouhaha. Brown overtly distanced himself from his (former?) friend Mack, and others on the council made it clear that Mack did not speak for any of them.
It's a common phenomenon in politics: If you become afflicted with a political ailment, especially the ethics virus, your colleagues will not attend your bedside, but will shun you as if you had a horrible contagion.
Mack, who took a loan from one of the principals involved and has been politically, if not literally, bedridden ever since the disclosure last week, must take his medicine, just as Michael McDonald did.
But as McDonald rubs his hands together and thinks of revenge, and the rest of the council pretends they don't know Mack, the public can rest assured that City Hall has once again become a cauldron of discontent, dissembling and destructiveness.
For decades the debate has ensued in the government and business communities: Should Clark County and the city of Las Vegas merge to provide better services and erase duplication? After recent events, though, consolidation would appear to be the wrong answer, like melding two last-place teams and wondering why you don't have a champion. Anyone out there for dissolution?
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