Keep the Door Open
It occurs to me that more than a few people still don’t get where I’m coming from with previous comments made in this space regarding the recent employment tussle at City Hall — something I’ve taken to calling “Memogate,” or, alternately, “The Passion of the Clerks.”
First, know that I am not denouncing clerks. The term is not derogatory. A clerk is defined as “a person employed, as in an office, to keep records, file, type, or perform other general office tasks.”
That’s straight out of Webster’s, holmes.
Second, I am not calling for the head of City Manager Joe Turner. My dealings with him have been professional, courteous and above board.
No, the crux of my argument centered on the Board of Aldermen’s decision to hire a fancy schmancy juris doctorate at $250 per hour (allegedly) to investigate an employee’s $210 payroll discrepancy (allegedly).
Last week, I sat alone in Parkville’s court while the Board of Aldermen conducted its latest closed session on the matter. The legal representation of one of the parties advised me that after the meeting, there would be a press release or statement on the matter, so I decided to wait outside.
Allow me to flashback for a moment.
I remember the first time I covered a meeting of the Olathe City Council in the far-off planet of Johnson County. After the meeting, the public information officer said he had a lot of respect for me, that I was a “watchdog.” Shocking him with journalism wisdom I didn’t even know I possessed, I replied that I would only be a watchdog on a bad day — what I really wanted to do was report the news. Because, like, I’m a writer, not a hall monitor, ok?
Back to the present day.
Parkville aldermen are in a secret meeting, albeit a meeting clearly allowed for in the Missouri statutes. During the beginning of the meeting, I saw three of the aldermen. Two peeked out of the closed meeting room door to see if I was there and another, I believe, took a restroom break (allegedly). The friendly person I am, I waved and said hello to all three. All three looked me in the eye then completely ignored me, as if they were in the midst of some bizarre ancient ritual.
I don’t know, maybe they were Druids or something.
Anyway, after the meeting, I was told that I would not get a statement from the board until the next day — even though we were all there at that very moment. Going to press that night, I struggled to make the case that it was in the board’s best interest to make sure The Luminary was presenting the accurate story to Parkville (particularly since I had all the facts, anyway) and even agreed to embargo (not publicly print or publish) the story until after the release but it was to no avail, they would not cooperate.
Druids can be such a drag, man.
So instead, after the meeting I called the city’s lawyer. He doesn’t play such silly Stonehenge games. He transmitted the press release like an adult and The Luminary published the story on our Web site within one hour of the meeting. The next day, the story was in the racks and The Luminary received a tersely worded fax telling me the matter “was closed” — “closed” being a popular term these days, apparently. That night, I ran into an alderman who told me that a closed session allowed them to keep all their proceedings secret.
Wrong – and I mean, way wrong. With a few notable exceptions, votes, minutes and settlement agreements must be opened to the public on final disposition, unless ordered closed by a court. Also, it is basically a government body’s privilege to close a meeting. They represent the public’s interest, and the public can’t be interested if they are intentionally kept in the dark. And, unfortunately, that’s where the watchdog has to come in. I remember a case up in Platte City where the mayor and board were having lunches together, discussing city business, completely oblivious of the sunshine laws and combative over their “right” to do so (they didn’t…at least not without 24-hour posted notification). “It’s just lunch,” they said, breaking not only sunshine laws but infringing on a popular lunchtime dating service’s trademark all at once.
In my experience covering local governments, I feel that about 20 percent of the elected officials are seriously “community-minded.” These are the folks who run for posts on entities like the Southern Platte County Curb District. Generally, they want to give back, because their town has been so good to them. It’s very cool.
On the flip side, I surmise 75 percent are fulfilling some sort of latent Hyannis Port fantasy they’ve harbored since the early ‘60s (the other five percent got duped). These would-be JFK types are the ones you need to watch because sometimes they can convince the community-minded into doing silly things and making silly decisions.
Before the end of this decade, Parkville will not go to the moon and you know what? Parkville doesn’t want to go to the moon. They want their kids to get a good start on life, they want a good babysitter, and they want to go to dinner.
Now, some unsavory sources have said that city employees are being threatened not to talk to the press. Let me make this clear: any employee that works for this city, be they elected or hired, be they any of the area’s downtrodden, poor, and those yearning to breathe free (including any persecuted Druids), they have a safe haven in the warm pages of The Parkville Luminary.
You are always free to contact your friendly neighborhood publisher at [our Web contact info below] and blow your whistle until your heart is content. We ask not the name of our sources, but we ask what our sources can do for you.