Columnist Erin Neff: Goodman, Guinn should back up their words

Erin Neff

Friday, Aug. 8, 2003 | 4:44 a.m.

WHEN OSCAR GOODMAN began running for mayor five years ago, he took on the blighted downtown and -- at first -- the school system.

The famed lawyer was such a political neophyte that reporters kept reminding him that the mayor has no say in how the schools operate.

But Goodman persisted, saying that as mayor he would use his bully pulpit to force improvements to what -- at the time -- he called a failing system.

So why is it that when a new study finds that Goodman is in fact a bully using his position to create a bitter environment for the homeless, hizzoner disclaims his role?

Goodman and the state's highest ranking official, Gov. Kenny Guinn, each has a lot to learn about rhetoric. You either use a bully pulpit or you don't.

And if you start by shooting your mouth off, you had better accept the consequences of your statements.

In Goodman's case, Las Vegas deserves to be called the meanest city for the homeless. It is a mantle earned because of, not in spite of, the mayor's actions.

Sure, the city has put $7 million into homeless programs since Goodman took office and, yes, the mayor called for establishment of a task force to look into the pesky regional problem.

But more people remember the powerful impact of the pulpit, from which Goodman suggested shipping the homeless to a shuttered prison in Jean or declared in his State of the City address that some homeless are raping and killing others.

In Guinn's case, a strong initial action typically results in the governor running away. It is a half-Rooseveltian approach to the bully pulpit, choosing to speak softly, but failing to follow up with the big stick.

Before he unveiled a $1 billion tax package, Guinn held a press conference to relegate to "irrelevant" status those who would not be supporting taxes.

But the governor didn't follow up to keep an increasingly vocal minority from his own party from becoming very relevant.

Guinn just dropped his billion-dollar baby into the Legislature's hands and then quietly stepped back into the shadows for months as his neighbors slapped the obstinate toddler around before needing two "timeouts" of their own.

After hiding in the shadows for most of four months, Guinn finally emerged during the second special session to use his bully pulpit again by suing the entire Legislature over its failure to pass a balanced budget.

He did sic his attorney general on 63 lawmakers, but as quickly as the paperwork was filed, Guinn was in hiding again.

Both Goodman and Guinn show a complete lack of understanding about the power of their positions and the rhetoric they used.

Goodman can claim he's just one of a council of six, and argue that the city manager-led government structure gives him little more than ceremonial power.

But if the man who calls Las Vegas "my city" views his role as one of persuasion rather than of dictatorial power, then the spokesman for Las Vegas has got to learn a lot more about tactful public speaking.

Guinn argues that it was the Legislature that was negligent this year, and that the governor's office did its part in proposing a budget and a tax package to fund it only to see it suffer at the hands of lawmakers.

But it's easier to crunch numbers in the bowels of the Capitol than it is to passionately stump for a plan to every citizen group, every PTA and, especially, every lawmaker.

As Guinn's and Goodman's actions both show, you should neither run away from the bully pulpit during a time of crisis, nor use rhetoric with reckless abandon.

If you are going to speak, speak with conviction. And if you are going to wield the power of the pulpit, you had better accept just how powerful it can be. You either use a bully pulpit or you don't.