A motto for Metro:The check's in the mail
September 2, 1988
Next week, Dade voters get to decide who will sit on the Metro-Dade Commission, that body of government (and we use the term loosely) whose task is to chart the future of the county.
This is the year that commissioners have brought new dimensions to the word craven. Zoning fiascoes aside, the sorriest episode was the debate over what to do about County Manager Sergio Pereira—he of the hot suits boutique, the secret land trust, the forgotten $127,000 windfall and other memory lapses.
As a public service, local television stations should rerun the highlights of the commission's Pereira discussions. That way, voters can be reminded of the moral vacuum in which Steve Clark, Clara Oesterle, Bev Phillips and Jim Redford operate so comfortably.
The fact that the county manager was caught in a bald-faced lie about his own finances, the fact that he violated state disclosure laws—no big deal to the commissioners. They blubbered their fealty even as new revelations were forcing Pereira to head for the hills.
Who could be happy with such a vapid bunch? Take a wild guess.
Judging by the weight of their campaign contributions, those who are most delighted by the commissioners' performance are developers, lawyers and bankers.
Because that's who really runs this county government.
They love the status quo. They depend on its mediocrity. The last thing they want on the County Commission are thinkers, leaders and visionaries; they want people who will be manipulated. Puppets.
Take Steve Clark, who has perfected the invisible-mayor form of government. He has raised nearly $500,000 in campaign funds to keep a "job" that pays $6,000 a year.
Here's a man for whom executive action is deciding whether to play a driver or a two-iron off the 17th tee; a man so flummoxed by the Pereira controversy that private lobbyists had to write his comments for him.
Yet builders, developers, contractors, real estate salesmen and architects think so highly of Mayor Clark's leadership skills that they've given more than $176,000 to help get him re-elected. Lawyers have rewarded the mayor with more than $51,000, while financial interests have coughed up a modest $35,500.
Another incumbent whose campaign has benefited handsomely from development interests is Commissioner Clara Oesterle. Approximately 45 percent of her $403,000 war chest comes from the folks who are busy turning West Dade into a parking lot.
Having accepted such embarrassing sums from special interests, the commissioners naturally denounce the system as flawed. If only it didn't cost so much to run a political campaign these days, they say, then we wouldn't have to take this money.
If that argument isn't obsequious enough, their next line is enough to choke a goat: We don't go out and solicit these contributions, they say, the checks just come in the mail.
So the half-a-million dollars in campaign moola that Mayor Clark has collected is merely a spontaneous outpouring of public support. Yeah, right. And Elvis is still alive, too.
You can bet that whoever shells out this kind of dough wants more than a thank-you note in return. When a nest of zoning lawyers and their wives all give the legal limit of $1,000 each to a candidate, they are purchasing influence, pure and simple. And it works.
Developers love the direction that the commission is taking Dade County because that direction is due west, all the way to the Everglades. Rat-warren condos and strip-shopping malls as far as the eye can see. Go look for yourself.
This, and a ghostway transit system, are the twin legacies of this outstanding batch of public servants.
Little will change after Tuesday's election. Voters who choose their commissioners from bus benches and billboards will again be duped, and it's their own fault. At least the developers know enough about basic civics to learn something important about their candidates. Like where to send the checks.