13 Years

Jerrod Miller

Thirteen years ago today, Jerrod Miller, 16, was shot and killed outside of the Delray Full Service Center by a rookie Delray Beach police officer.

Jerrod was killed exactly 7 years to the day before Trayvon Martin, 17, was killed by a neighborhood watch volunteer in Sanford, Florida sparking a national conversation that still boils.

In the ensuing years, we’ve read about Freddie Gray, Ferguson, Missouri and a whole slew of incidents that have engulfed young men of color, police departments, communities, schools and our nation’s soul.

I’m not sure how many people are thinking of Jerrod Miller today in Delray Beach where we seem to be focused on gutter politics and whether this year’s St. Patrick’s Day Parade, a 50 year tradition will be the last because of a few myopic elected officials who don’t understand what it means to be a steward.

All of those things are important—who serves in office and whether community traditions continue or are shooed way.

But they also pale when viewed through the prism of a basic question; whether we are a good place for children and families to live.

Jerrod was my daughter’s age in 2005. I think of that often, every time I see my first born and marvel at the young woman she has become. She’s a teacher now, but back then she was a student at Atlantic High School and the kids were shaken about what happened the night Jerrod was shot. Samantha was given the opportunity to grow up, go to college and launch a career. Jerrod didn’t have that opportunity. And I think about him all the time.

For 13 years, I have had recurring dreams about a young man I never knew in life. I saw him only once—in a casket, at his funeral—at an 7th Day Adventist Church in our northwest neighborhood. I met and admired his pastor. I knew his father—not the biological opportunist who showed up after the shooting, but the man who Jerrod knew as his dad.  And I met his grandmother who sat quietly with us in a  room at Old School Square during our race relations workshops.

Ironically, I was at Mar-a-Lago, at a charity fundraiser the night of the shooting. I had no clue that life would change for so many with a middle of the night phone call that informed me of the news.

When police shootings occur, a dynamic occurs—a vortex of media, lawyers, union reps, police investigators, prosecutors, media, activists, hate mail, threats, anger, anxiety and crushing sadness.

Absolutely crushing sadness.

As a mayor, you become isolated—from your colleagues on the commission and from everyone really. It’s a lonely place and there is no playbook to reference.

I think of that lonely place when I see things happen—in places like Ferguson, Baltimore and yes Parkland because I know there’s hurting families, anxious policymakers and sad police officers.

In my case, I was walled off from the officer because of the investigation but I felt for him and his family. I tried not to pass judgment, I tried to think of him as a 23 year-old man. And when my son hit that age, I realized just how young that is. Jerrod was shot while allegedly driving erratically near a school dance. It all happened in a matter of seconds.

I’ve always been a fan of the Delray Beach Police Department and public safety professionals in general. I rode with them as a young reporter, got to know them as people and marveled at the complexity of their jobs and how well they performed. There is no Delray Beach as we know it, without their stellar work. They made it safe to live, work and play here but that challenge is ongoing and we must strive to be the kind of city that protects those who protect and serve us. So when the narrative emerged after the shooting of a rogue police department, I knew from personal experience that it wasn’t true. Of course, there was a fraught history–and that matters. Like America itself, Delray has struggled with race. But we were hard at work on the issue. We may have been imperfect, slow at times, blind to things but there were sincere efforts in our city to bridge the divide–to talk, engage and work together. Bridges had been built, relationships had formed and they were real and we would rely on them in the tough days ahead.

I also felt deeply for the family, friends and teachers who were shocked by the shooting.

We were isolated from the family as a result of the investigation, the inevitable litigation and other factors including an inquest, a rare event that was ordered in the case. I did spend time with several of Jerrod’s teachers who came to see me racked with emotion. We also spent a lot of time in the community answering questions, listening and praying.

But all during this time I was also thinking about another young man—Sherrod, Jerrod’s twin brother.

I asked  officers and community members for any information on him. I was told he was devastated and angry. Who could fault him. I’m sure there was confusion too.

I never did get to connect with Sherrod at the time. But I never stopped thinking about him.

I was saddened to read newspaper headlines a few years later detailing trouble that he had found.

He ended up doing time.

But a few years ago, he re-emerged. I got a call from an officer/friend who said Sherrod wanted to meet me and a few other  police officers including the chief. He wanted to see us. He had something to say.

And so we met, quietly in an office at City Hall. I was nervous about the meeting but anxious to see him too.

I’ve never written about this part of the story before but it’s important to share.

When Sherrod walked in the first thing you noticed was his size—6’5” and strong.

He was heavily tattooed and clearly someone who had seen a lot in his short life.  And yet there was something about him too that I just can’t describe–maybe the word is vulnerable.

When he saw us, the emotions were raw. He shook hands with all of us but it quickly fell into an embrace and a few tears.

It was very powerful.

For all of us.

Seasoned police officers who have seen it all and then some. Officers who had been called to the scene 13 years ago and were  very moved by what they saw.

We talked and talked some more. A lot poured out. Prison. Anger. Anger at Delray police. The searing pain of losing a brother. A twin; someone who feels a part of you. And a realization that the cycle has to stop. If at all possible, the anger had to be let go. Sherrod wanted to apologize to us, for things he had said and done. We told him it was OK and not necessary. We just wanted him to live a decent life. We were sorry that we didn’t help him and he needed a lot of help.

We vowed to help Sherrod get started again.  And we did. A job. Support. Advice.

I’d like to say that we all grew close. For awhile we texted, his preferred method of communication– with me anyway. Then the texts bounced back. His number must have changed.

And we lost touch.

He got arrested again. You can look up the details.

I keep tabs via the Internet.

On this, a sad anniversary, I pray he finds peace. I pray we all do.

I share these stories on the anniversary because I believe that it’s important that others know what happened on Feb. 26, 2005 in the village by the sea.

At the time, many felt Delray would never be the same. That’s how big this was. But I find we move on, maybe not the families, maybe not the direct participants, but society moves on.

There have been other violent deaths in Delray since. There have been young people gunned down by other young people right here in our community. And life goes on, as I suppose it should and must.

But my hope is that with every loss we would learn something that makes us better people and a better, closer community.

Until that happens, we will continue to fray–inch by inch– until  eventually we break.

 

 

MLK Day 2018

“The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.” ~ Dr. King.

I have always been in awe and intrigued by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
In awe of his oratorical genius and intrigued by his message which is eternal and as relevant as it has ever been.
This MLK Day—which would have been Dr. King’s 89th birthday—arrives at a teachable moment. Let’s hope we learn. Because clearly we have a lot to learn.
In 2018, we are still struggling with race, still wrestling with hatred and violence.

Our discourse is often disgusting, violent, hurtful and ignorant.
We are better than this..we better be.
America is an idea, not a race Sen. Lindsey Graham noted this week.
We were built on ideals and values. But those ideals and values—freedom and equality chief among them—have always been locked in a struggle with forces that would deny both.
It was that struggle that MLK devoted and ultimately lost his life pursuing.
He was not alone.

Many others have been devoted to Dr. King’s dream, which is the promise of America. Many others lost their lives too. Or died before we can truly proclaim that we as a people are free at last.

This blog assiduously avoids national politics. But sometimes what happens in Washington touches us here in our community.
And so the President’s comments on immigration whether “tough” —as he asserts they were —or profane —as was widely reported impact us. They affect us in profound and deep ways.

I have long contended that Delray is America in 16 square miles.
We have it all here. Rich and poor. Young and old. We are a rich tapestry of ethnicities that make us a fascinating and culturally rich community.
I’ve have always felt our diversity was an immense strength. But while I think we have navigated some very hard issues better than many cities in America, I still believe that we wrestle with race in Delray Beach.

That does not make us unique. But I’ve always believed we had the potential to be a national example for how we can to work to build trust, create opportunities and solve challenges through dialogue, collaboration and commitment.
All three elements are critical.
Dialogue: because how and even if we converse is important.
Collaboration: there can be no progress unless everyone works together.
Commitment: communities have to commit to the long term, otherwise you will lose traction and often slide backwards.
So how are we doing?
You be the judge.
I think we need work in all three areas.
Our dialogue often includes talking past each other which makes it hard to collaborate. And commitment can’t come just during an election cycle. It has to be the way you roll. All the time.

My Delray experience has been blessed by relationships with a slew of civic giants who devoted themselves to equality, healthy neighborhoods, education, history, civil rights, politics and economic opportunity.
People like C. Spencer Pompey, H. Ruth Pompey, Elizabeth Wesley, David Randolph, Zack Straghn, Bill Condry, Yvonne Odom, Red Odom, Vera Farrington, Mr. and Mrs. Strainge, Beatrice Tyson, Ernestine Holliday, Frances Carter, Sam and Loretta McGee, Jimmy Weatherspoon, Tony Newbold, Rev. Thomas, Nadine Hart, Joe and Carolyn Gholston and the list of leaders goes on and on. They taught us that progress was possible through dialogue, collaboration and commitment.
Today, I see that legacy live on through initiatives like the Community Land Trust, The Knights of Pythagoras, SD Spady Museum, The Elders, the EJS Project and the promising Set Transformation Plan championed by the West Atlantic Redevelopment Coalition. Of course there’s more, which is why Delray Beach is so promising. It’s why we remain a beacon.
All are in service to and in pursuit of MLK’s Dream.
It’s in all of our interests that they succeed. It’s up to all of us to ensure that they do.

Ready, Fire Aim

Over time, political bodies develop personalities.
They tend to adopt the personalities of its strongest member or members and that can be a good thing or it can be a nightmare.
It all depends on the personality (or lack thereof) of the leadership.
I’ve observed 30 years of city commission’s in Delray Beach and have watched neighboring cities too. I’ve also paid attention to School Boards and County Commission’s.
Over that time, I’ve seen a lot.
We all have.
We’ve seen larger than life county commissioners and quieter but effective public servants.
Before Steven Abrams and Melissa McKinlay we had commissioners who loomed so large they were  known by their first names–kind of like Cher or Madonna. Everyone knew who Burt, Tony and Karen were–surnames were superfluous.
In 1980s Delray we saw rivalries and factions on the dais and tons of intrigue too. It was a volatile time. But despite the infighting at City Hall we saw the formation of historic districts, the start of community policing, the first “visions” and the creation of the CRA. Not bad.
But it was accompanied by turbulence and sadly that’s what people remember.
The 90s was an era of stability and accomplishment–a Decade of Excellence seeded by the visions and bond dollars of the 80s. The early 2000s was an era of ambition and civic entrepreneurship building on the solid foundation of the 90s.
Along the way, the progress we’ve seen–assuming you acknowledge we’ve made progress–has been driven by a wide range of stakeholders including our CRA.
If you look at any civic achievement in our eastern core over the past 32 years you can be assured that our CRA played a role–often an outsize role in making it happen.
Across the state, it’s viewed as one of the best CRA’s around and over the years scores of cities have visited Delray to pick up redevelopment tips.
But the agency’s PR has always lagged behind it’s achievements. And not for lack of effort by a variety of people who have done a solid job promoting the good works of the agency.
A common complaint over the years has been a lack of investment and focus on the West Atlantic corridor now known as The Set.
Sorry but it’s just not true.
Much has been done over the past 20 years or so and much more is planned.
Nobody has ever declared victory and said the job was done. Nobody on the CRA has ever said too much was spent–and truth is the corridors and neighborhoods west of Swinton have been a focus since at least 2000 and tens of millions have been spent that proves it.
So when I read a commissioners blog claiming that the area has been “ignored” or hear about a resolution calling for the city to take over the governance of the agency I shake my head. But I’m not surprised.
The CRA has been under assault for a long time now. And it’s a shame. It started with a politically motivated audit a few years back that found next to nothing wrong with its administration, financial stewardship and governance and has continued for the past few years with a series of threats to the agency’s role.
First it was an attempt to trim the CRA’s boundaries (a costly study that concluded the obvious: cutting the boundaries would suck county funds out of Delray which makes no sense), then it was the Monday morning quarterbacking on RFP’s and past plans and the constant pecking at the iPic project.
I can go on. But you get the picture.
It’s a shame. Because the CRA is an invaluable economic development tool, a driver of progress, a source of cash for needed projects and a proven performer.
Which brings us back to personality.
The modus operandi of late seems to be ready, fire, aim on issue after issue.

Consider the following:
–When it came time to renew the Highland Beach Fire contract (which has worked well for both cities for two decades) what do you do?  Blow it up and insult your neighbors or inquire about the deal before drawing a conclusion?
Wouldn’t it have been easier to investigate to see why it might make sense? It’s not too hard to find past fire chiefs, past city managers etc who might be able to explain why it works? If you have to raise the fee you charge– so be it. Why not explain to your neighbors that you can’t lose money providing the service? You might find you get more with honey than vinegar.
Ready, fire aim.
–How about last week’s kerfuffle over a letter from an attorney that mentioned making Delray the recovery capital of the world again?
Wouldn’t it have been easier to make a call to the chamber of commerce rather than put the issue on two TV stations, several newspapers and all over social media? Doesn’t that level of attention brand the city more than a phone call to inquire about the intention of the Recovery Business Council? Which is a good idea, by the way. You don’t improve problems by ignoring them.
And then there was the shot by the mayor that he doesn’t know who was sitting in the commission seats in 2007 when the New York Times typed the words “recovery capital” and Delray in the same sentence but by golly this commission sure wouldn’t sit by and allow it.
Well, I know the five people who were there in late ’07 (Rita Ellis, Fred Fetzer, Brenda Montague et. al) and I doubt that they either embraced the recovery capital tagline or could control what the Times writes.
Ready, fire aim.
As for taking over the CRA, it appears the leadership of The Set is united in opposition to the idea and was taken by surprise. That’s a pretty big surprise to spring on a valued constituency.
Ready, fire aim.
So what are the personality traits we are seeing? I see bullying, I see a lack of communication, I see going off without first getting facts, I see an unwillingness to stop and understand issues and determine rationales before setting a course that upsets key people in the community.
Ready, fire aim.
You may not agree with past decisions and the reasons why they were made. And you may despise the folks who made those decisions. But history is important. Time did not start on your watch.  Daniel Boorstin, a former librarian of Congress once said: “trying to plan for the future without a sense of the past was like trying to plant cut flowers.”

Indeed.
You may think those decisions were wrong or ruined the city. But plenty of people would disagree with you. I think the last election spoke volumes. People love this town. They want to see progress. Again.
So mock the past, label and disparage those who served and volunteered.
But those folks got results. They achieved outcomes.
It wasn’t blind luck. And it wasn’t ready, fire aim.
It was decisions based on citizen driven plans and assigned to agencies and departments like the CRA. And  things got done. And commission’s had control and there was accountability.
A southwest plan, the Village Academy, Catherine Strong Park, beautification from Swinton to 95, improvements to Northwest/Southwest Fifth Avenue, the creation of a successful Community Land Trust, a race relations initiative, Atlantic Grove, the Fairfield Inn, a roadway bond that paved streets, an ATP tennis tournament, a reduction in crime rates, the S.D. Spady Museum, a new library, courthouse expansion, the mitigation of sinking homes and on and on and on. Doesn’t seem like the CRA has ignored the area–but nor have they declared victory either.

Pretending those accomplishments didn’t happen and that you can’t build on them unless you take over ignores and disrespects a lot of hard work, investment, risk and leadership that has been exercised over the years and today.
Ready,fire aim is a lousy way to “lead” a city. In fact, it’s not leadership at all.
I’m told of rampant heartache at City Hall. That heartache manifests itself with unprecedented turnover. People don’t leave a place like Delray if they are happy or productive.
I also understand I’m persona non grata with certain people in power (for now anyway).
That’s ok. I’m proud of that fact.
I’m going to speak my mind. I’m going to write. I’m going to help publish a newspaper. I’m going to serve on non profit boards and try to encourage leaders to emerge. I’m also going to continue to invest here–time, money, emotion, ideas and I hope you do too. Because it’s our town too.
Those who want to see jobs, better schools, a strong, happy city staff, investment, tourism, festivals, art, culture and a sustainable city deserve better than ready, fire aim.
We deserve a voice. We deserve collaboration and we deserve kindness and respect.
Taking over the CRA would be a bad move. It’s worked for 28 years for mayor’s, commissioners, city managers and city attorneys. For some reason it’s not working for some members of this group.
You wonder if they are capable of asking themselves why.
Ready fire aim is not a sustainable strategy. We deserve a better personality. Before it’s too late.

Realizing The Dream

mlkday

“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.” Martin Luther King Jr.

 

Today, we celebrate the life and legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
Dr. King believed that America could be a beacon for every other nation on Earth. The United States could extend opportunity to everyone regardless of their skin color or identity.
He believed that America would reach its potential if we created a society where people were judged not on the basis of the color of their skin but on the content of their character.

It’s a powerful idea and an enduring one.
Dr. King wished for and worked toward a post racial society. He gave his life in pursuit of his ideals.
Rep. John Lewis gave his blood.

The  Atlanta area Congressman was in the news over the weekend when he questioned the legitimacy of the presidential election and was in turn criticized for being all talk and no action. This blog does not wade into national politics but suffice it to say that spilling your blood for a cause qualifies as action.
Regardless of where you stand politically, race is never far from the American conversation. And so as we mark MLK Day 2017 and remember the remarkable life, words and achievements of Dr. King we also must acknowledge that living in a post racial society remains elusive.

New York Times arts critic Wesley Morris says we are actually living in a “most racial society”.
In discussing the incredible artistry of playwright August Wilson Morris writes:  “We’re living in an identity first culture and a time in which those identities are being pitted against one another for political sport.”
Indeed.
I have lived in Delray Beach for nearly 30 years and race is a major factor in the history, present and future of our city.
It lies at the heart of the failure of our commission to abide by our charter and appoint a replacement for a departing commissioner and it figures prominently in discussions relating to development, jobs, public spending, policing,  elections and representation in our community.
While we are a diverse community and while we rightly celebrate that fact, we remain extremely segregated in our churches, neighborhoods, friendships, sports leagues and community organizations.
It was the first thing I noticed moving here from New York in 1987–because it is stark and unavoidable.
When I served as mayor, I pushed a race relations initiative that had its triumphs and its failures because I sensed a desire for unity and because I was convinced that conversations and dialogue might bring people closer together. When people get together and look each other in the eye (as neighbors seldom do these days) they quickly realize that they share more in common than they might otherwise believe. They aspire on behalf of their children, they worry about their jobs and finances. They just want to get home safe.

We used to hold “study circles” to foster dialogue and community dinners too–where neighborhoods that ordinarily wouldn’t interact got together to eat and talk. These were simple things, but to this day,  a decade or more later I still run into people who enjoyed those dinners and long for the interaction. In a world where we hide behind screens and keyboards and pass judgment on people we don’t know, these simple human activities are more valuable than ever and in danger of being lost as we segregate ourselves with groups and people who look and think like us.
On the spectrum of Dr. King’s vision of a post racial society and today’s “most” racial society I fall decidedly on the side of MLK.
But while dialogue is essential and important, action is critical.
I have seen lots of progress in many areas over the past 30 years and some areas where we are plain stuck.
Tens of millions of dollars have been invested in neighborhoods once ignored. Attempts have been made and are being made to bring jobs and investment to areas of town that have experienced blight and flight.
Much of that investment has been made as a result of citizen visions and political leadership. That’s action. And we ought to be proud of it. Not many cities can match our record.
But more needs to be done, should be done and I believe will be done.
But the progress will be sustained  only if we tear down barriers that divide us.
I’m not referring to branding and identity efforts which seek to enhance pride and marketability.
But rather attitudes that define investment as a zero sum game or people who seek to pit one group against the other to serve their narrow and selfish needs. Be wary of people who label, divide, bully–especially those who claim to speak for the majority. They most often do not.
MLK’s life was also devoted to economic empowerment and opportunity.
Part of “the dream” was to see our children thrive in a society that offered abundant opportunities for all.
I have longed believed that once the capital investment was made in streets, parks and housing we could focus on the immense human capital that exists in Delray Beach.
Initiatives that focus on health, education, entrepreneurship, technology, leadership and the local economy are available to us and can and should involve the private sector.
The potential is limitless. The opportunities are boundless.
We live in a small city that I call America in 16 square miles.

We’re a fascinating blend. We have come a long way. We have proven that progress is possible.
I remain a believer.

That the best is yet to come. That the dream is not only possible but that it’s more desirable and relevant than ever.
It’s up to us to turn the dream into reality. We know how to do it.

We’re Asking Too Much Of Officers

Baton

It’s Monday morning.

Another weekend of carnage in America. Another three police officers murdered. Another three shot in Baton Rouge.
When the news flashed, I thought immediately of Dallas Police Chief David Brown. His words ring truer every day.
“We’re asking cops to do too much in this country,” the police chief said at a briefing last Monday. “We are. Every societal failure, we put it off on the cops to solve. Not enough mental health funding, let the cops handle it. Here in Dallas we got a loose dog problem, let’s have the cops chase loose dogs. Schools fail, let’s give it to the cops. That’s too much to ask. Policing was never meant to solve all those problems.”
Chief Brown is correct. 
In Delray too, we ask a whole lot of our police. And our firefighters too.

Someone overdoses on heroin let the cops and paramedics save them. No facilities for the homeless guy who scares you, no worries call the cops, they’ll deal with it.
We want our cops to live in our city but we don’t pay them enough to live here and if you mention the need for workforce housing–which almost always requires density– we adopt policies that make sure it will never happen. (I’m holding out hope for Congress Avenue).
And when it comes time to compensate them we cry poverty and moan about their pensions.
Are pension liabilities a concern? You betcha, a big one, so why not roll up our sleeves and help solve the issue because you can’t just wish it away and the men and women who protect and serve us deserve security when they retire. If you have financial acumen think of applying for the pension board, maybe you can help. But don’t begrudge a cop or a firefighter if they have a pension. They earn it.
It’s a tough season to be a police officer in America. It’s a tough season for everyone period.
Last week I had the occasion to speak to several officers. They are aching for their brothers and sisters in Dallas and now in Baton Rouge.
When I was on the City Commission we solved a serious attrition and recruitment issue with a package that included take home cars for officers who lived in Delray or within a few miles of the city. The literature at the time showed that having police cruisers in neighborhoods lowered crime and was popular with residents who felt safer living in a neighborhood populated with officers.
I believed that, still do.
But last week, I heard from a few officers who were concerned about bringing their cars home. They were worried about being targeted. They had read reports from around the country that police cars were being vandalized.
It’s heartbreaking to hear.
Our community has been largely supportive of our Police Department for a long time now.
I’m not referring to politics and labor negotiations –which have been good and bad over the years depending on the players involved– but about the larger community which seems to get how important our police officers are to the welfare of our city.
Every chance I get (this time included) I like to credit our officers for creating a safer city which enabled our turnaround to take place. If a community doesn’t  feel safe, you can’t attract investment or families. It’s just that simple.
But these days, there’s an overall feeling of unease in America. We are not immune.
We have so much work to do. So much trust to restore. So much fear and hatred to overcome.
We shouldn’t rest until every boy and every girl is given real opportunity. We shouldn’t rest until and every man and woman goes to bed knowing they can find a job and if not they will still have a roof over their head and food for their families.
Is that asking too much in a country with our resources and ingenuity?
I don’t think so. I don’t believe most Americans feel this way either.
We wrote last week, that while our national politics were a mess, there was hope for progress in our cities. 
So we have to get to work. We have to create a community of opportunity for everyone. 
We have to be focused on jobs, education, strengthening families, enriching our cultural opportunities and restoring civility. Have you seen a city commission meeting lately?
Too often instead of debate, we engage in coarse, personal attacks. We label people, dismiss them, call them self serving or worse. We can do better. We have done better.
It’s going to take work. It’s going to take vision and investment. It’s going to take dialogue and a commitment to understanding. More people have to be engaged in the important work of community building.  
It starts with engagement and dialogue. But it doesn’t end there. It doesn’t end period. We have to keep  working. There are problems to solve and we can do it. There are opportunities to create and we know how to do that as well.
We can’t just leave it for the cops to handle. They need our help. Now.
 

We’ve Been Traveling Over Rocky Ground

reuters

“Rise up shepherd, rise up
Your flock has roamed far from the hill
The stars have faded, the sky is still
Sun’s in the heavens and a new day is rising

You use your muscle and your mind and you pray your best
That your best is good enough, the Lord will do the rest
You raise your children and you teach them to walk straight and sure
You pray that hard times, hard times come no more
You try to sleep you toss and turn the bottom’s dropping out
Where you once had faith now there’s only doubt
You pray for guidance only silence now meets your prayers
The morning breaks, you awake, but no one’s there
 There’s a new day coming
A new day’s coming” –Bruce Springsteen, Rocky Ground

Life has a way of getting your attention when you least expect it.
Last Thursday night we were at Mizner Park dining with family and marveling at the MacLaren’s, Ferrari’s and Tesla’s cruising by.
It was a week when a town nearly went bonkers on social media over the Garlic Festival and when adults argued with each other over whether it is proper for a high school dance group and Cub Scouts to volunteer in exchange for donations.
Wow.
Talk about ridiculous. And small.
We witnessed people squabble over whether John Prince Park was in Lake Worth or in unincorporated Palm Beach County which suddenly became “important” because that’s where the Garlic Festival ended up after a terrific 18 year run in Delray.
But then you come home and switch on CNN and see footage from Baton Rouge, Dallas and Falcon Heights.
And suddenly reality sets in.

People were dying.

On America’s streets.
I have a deep respect for law enforcement officers forged over years of watching them save Delray Beach. I had the unique privilege and opportunity to ride with our officers. I was an eye witness to their challenges, I saw their dedication and their courage.
I spent hours with officers taking notes as they patrolled the most dangerous streets of our city. I saw how the job impacted them in good ways and in not so good ways.
I saw them smile when they pulled up to a crowd and were greeted by people who genuinely liked and trusted them. I saw the chemistry and the rapport. I saw the closeness and the good natured ribbing.
But  I also saw an officer stare at the sky and hold onto a telephone pole for balance after responding to a rape call. The victim was nine years old. Being a cop is a tough job.
I will never know what it’s like to put on a uniform and not know whether today will change or end my life or somebody else’s.
But I do know what it’s like to try and comfort a community after a teenager is shot dead by an officer. I can’t help but think of Jerrod Miller these days. Google the name if you’re new to town.
So yes watching the news after an evening at Mizner Park ogling sports cars snaps you back to reality.
The reality of families dealing with the shooting of a loved one and the reality of officers murdered and injured  in Dallas.
It puts life in perspective. In a hurry.

It makes you want to focus on bigger things and deeper questions.
What are we doing? What are we focused on? Why it does feel that things are spiraling out of control?

It has been a helluva few weeks hasn’t it?
The massacre in Orlando. Terror in Turkey and throughout our world.

Insensitive, lightweight politicians who are so far from being leaders that it is almost surreal.
We seem to be spinning off our axis.
As a nation and I’m afraid sometimes as a community.
An old friend asked me what I thought was going on?
And I think the answer is simple.

We are losing our sense of community and our sense of what it means to be Americans. We are becoming tribal, quick to label, quick to condemn and ignore.
We are in desperate need of kindness, empathy and understanding. We seem to be getting  a steady and almost lethal dose of meanness, disrespect and ugliness.
The issues come and the issues go, but how we handle them leave marks. That goes for our national discourse and the way our local communities behave.
The conversation and decision making process can either enhance us as a community or diminish us. And too often these days– and for a long time now– they are diminishing us. How we make decisions matter; maybe as much as the decisions we make.

And if we slide into bad habits, one day we will inevitably pay the price. One day the stakes will be more than the fate of a festival or whether we should permit a particular business to open. If we don’t learn to compromise, invite and encourage dialogue we risk civility and we lose community. And then it’s too late.

Conversation helped us in the wake of Jerrod Miller. It was difficult for sure, but there was an effort to come together. But the shooting didn’t provoke the conversation. We had already embarked on a discussion about race. I don’t think we solved our issues. In fact, I know we didn’t. But I think the conversation made a difference. It just has to be ongoing and it has to lead to change.
Looks what’s happening across our nation.
In our politics, in our reactions to tragedy or terrorism and in how we seem to drift further and further apart rather than come together.
It doesn’t feel safe anymore.
It doesn’t feel stable.
We need to transcend. We need to think and we need to stop, breathe and consider.
I’ve been an observer of local government for 30 years. I like to write about what I observe. That bothers some people. So be it. I think we all have a civic responsibility to speak out and I won’t be silenced. You shouldn’t be either.
But I’ve noticed that when my writing is assailed it’s often not on the facts or even on philosophy it tends to be based on the gall of having an opinion, expressing that opinion and distributing it. When they want you to just go away, or they threaten to harm your business or blame you cryptically for stirring controversy you know you’re onto something. You hit a nerve, you exposed a truth, you lifted a cloak that others would prefer remain veiled.
That’s what conversation and writing is supposed to do. Nothing is ever solved through violence whether in deed or in word, but a lot gets settled with conversation.
A few years back, I observed some odd decision making as if there was a puppet master or two behind the scenes using elected officials as marionettes. A group of people grew tired of it and many of those elected officials were replaced by others who promised to do things differently. But what I have observed lately is not transparency, it’s something else entirely.
When visioning is replaced by personal preferences, when processes seem to be hijacked by agendas one has to wonder. Those of us who care about our community have a right and an obligation to speak out and seek change. If we don’t, we lose our community over time and when we lose our community we are in danger when something tragic happens.

In Washington, we see an inability to act against Zika, to even talk about ways to prevent lunatics from getting weapons of war or to effectively deal with a growing opiate crisis gripping America.
We look to leadership for ideas and solutions. We also look to leadership to engage not keep their own counsel or to listen only to a few people who never dare to differ or who stuff money in super pacs and campaign accounts.
We look to leaders to forge compromise, to frame issues and transcend the noise and do what’s right not what’s politically expedient or popular at the moment. We want them to think five, ten, twenty years ahead. Past the next election. Past the next post on Facebook.
Last week’s violence in Dallas, Baton Rouge and Minnesota led to a lot of national introspection.

We have separation not unity. We have divisiveness not community. That’s both our challenge and opportunity in our nation and in our own backyards.

Remembering

Jerrod Miller

Jerrod Miller

Eleven years ago today I got a call from the Police Department informing me that there was a fatal shooting outside a school dance in Delray Beach.

Jerrod Miller, 15, was shot and killed while driving his uncle’s car near a breezeway at the Full Service Center, in our southwest neighborhood. A rookie police officer pulled the trigger.

I was mayor at the time and had the spent the evening at Donald Trump’s Mar A Lago (who would have guessed about the Donald?) for a charity fundraiser. I left Palm Beach feeling on top of the world.

That feeling ended when the phone rang in the early morning hours. There is no playbook to reach for when a 15 year-old child is shot and killed by a police officer in America.

The shooting happened exactly 10 years before Trayvon Martin was killed by a neighborhood watch volunteer in Sanford, way before Ferguson, Black Lives Matter and the volatile shooting in Chicago that has engulfed that city’s mayor and cost the police chief his job.

My daughter, now 26, was also 15 when Jerrod was killed. I think that may be why the loss affected me in a very deep and very personal way. I couldn’t imagine losing a child. There are still mornings when I wake up to image’s of Jerrod’s face from a dream.

Never let them tell you that being a small town mayor is an easy job.

I share this because it’s important to remember these types of events because they tend to shape who you are and what you become as a community. The incident—which was a tragedy for all involved—was remembered last year— the 10 year anniversary. But these critical events need to be remembered every year, because it’s important to do so.

History can be a great guide for your present and your future if you take the time to understand it.

The Commissioners I served with valued race relations and we were working on improving our dialogue before the shooting. I think our efforts and the huge strides made before we arrived—especially by our Police Department—helped us cope with a terrible tragedy without widespread violence and recrimination. The leadership of people like Elizabeth Wesley, Mr. and Mrs. Spencer Pompey, Vera Farrington, Commissioner David Randolph, Zach Straghn, Evelyn Dobson, Pame Williams, Carolyn and Joe Gholston and many others also made a difference in our community. We had a deep reservoir of work, dialogue and progress to draw on when tragedy struck.

That does not mean that the situation wasn’t deeply painful or easy—I can assure you it wasn’t. But we never came apart as a community because there were relationships and efforts under way for years to address deep seated issues. And because we dug even deeper after Jerrod. We found that we shared a common love for our city and a common passion for improving the lives of all people in the village. So we talked, we met, we cried, we prayed and yes at times we argued–but we never wavered from a foundational commitment to each other and to Delray.

That commitment was not lip service, it was real. Significant dollars were spent in impoverished neighborhoods, programs were supported, strategies to help schools, families and children were not just talked about but were implemented. Community policing built bridges and made people feel safer in their homes and neighborhoods. It was a commitment–a covenant–and it went both ways because citizens were asked to volunteer, step up, lead and take risks and they did and it made a difference. There is never an end to this type of work. Nor should there be. But it’s about more than dollars, even though money and investment is important. It’s about relationships and building community. And it’s about trust and love.

That’s why we made it through, even though there was pain that words cannot describe.

Race has been America’s Achilles heel since our nation’s founding and it has been an issue in Delray for over 100 years.

Recently, there have been mentions of race and the Swinton dividing line on issues ranging from the design of Old School Square Park and where to direct CRA investment to the makeup of city boards and the staff, board and audience of the Arts Garage.

These are issues that need to be surfaced and understood—but the worst thing we can do is apply lipstick and declare victory.

When we started the Race Relations initiative as part of the Downtown Master Planning process it was meant as a long term initiative and this type of work needs to be considered as a long term commitment to fostering better relationships, more understanding and more opportunity.

I think Community Benefits Agreements are good in concept, but the true goal ought to be broad based, long lasting opportunity and prosperity. The only way to achieve that is to improve the capacity of the communities we are trying to lift up. You have to talk about developing human capital and we have a huge amount of it. Otherwise, it becomes about steering money to the politically connected few at the expense of the many.

Efforts like Delray Students First, Village Academy, Milagro Center, Dare 2 Be Great, the Campaign for Grade Level Reading, the Achievement Center, Delray Library and yes Old School Square and Arts Garage are all valuable tools for growing capacity and developing human capital.

But there are gaps—we are in an entrepreneurial and technological age and we ought to be investing in programs that teach both—like Girls Who Code, Wyncode, General Assembly etc.

In addition, there are tools and programs to strengthen neighborhoods. We were once very active in Neighborhoods USA and worked with local foundations on leadership training and capacity building. These are valuable tools to help encourage and inspire current and future leaders.

If you don’t do these types of things, you end up with spray paint “solutions” that wash away when it rains—and it will rain.

Optics will not work over the long haul. The term implies that you are merely concerned with how things look. Nope. Sorry, that doesn’t cut it. Your work has to be real and it has to be meaningful. And your commitment has to be long lasting.

You have to dig deep.

It has to be about love.

 

 

Show Me A Hero

Yonkers in the 80s.

Yonkers in the 80s.

We just finished watching the HBO mini-series “Show Me A Hero.”

It was incredible.

Great acting, great writing and a subject that is as relevant today as it was when the series took place 30 years ago.

For those who missed it, “Show Me A Hero” is based on a famous housing case in Yonkers, N.Y. in the 1980s. A judge ruled that Yonkers needed to allow an additional 200 units of public housing throughout the city in an effort to stop the concentration of poverty and integrate a highly segregated city.

The City of Yonkers fought and fought and fought the decree, creating controversy, racial tension, financial and human hardship. The units were eventually built and were considered a success. The widespread fears of “there goes the neighborhood” were unrealized but the debate took a toll on residents on all sides of the issue.

The series is also the story of Nick Wasicsko, the 28-year-old mayor of Yonkers who first got elected by supporting residents who fought the expansion of public housing and then over time changed his position.

What’s intriguing about Mayor Wasicsko is that he changed over time and by degrees—a very human evolution.

At first, he agreed to the expansion of housing because the city kept losing in the legal arena and it was bleeding the city financially and spiritually. As an attorney, Wasiscko knew the fight was futile and as a pragmatist he wanted to stop the bleeding. But over time, he became a believer and genuinely wanted to help people escape the crushing poverty, crime and violence of the projects. He was named a finalist for a JFK Profile in Courage Award as a result.

Along the way, he lost his seat as mayor. He later won a council seat and then lost a political battle with the new mayor who redrew his district forcing him into a losing battle against his former best friend for a seat. Wasiscko committed suicide at the age of 34.

The final part of the quote “Show Me A Hero” is “and I will write you a tragedy”. That phrase was written by F. Scott Fitzgerald and sadly, that is often true.

What made me “Show Me a Hero” so intriguing was that it’s heroes were not perfect people, but real human beings struggling with public sentiment, old prejudices, anger and doubt.

We’ve been through a long year in terms of race relations in this country. Ferguson, Baltimore, Staten Island—we’ve all seen the headlines and watched the news.

We are not immune.

When I watched “Show Me A Hero” I thought of my own experience in public office as I watched a young elected official get consumed by the anger, fear and sadness in his community over housing and race.

I saw some of those emotions as well.

One of the enduring lessons of “Show Me A Hero” was that the world didn’t end when those 200 affordable townhomes were built in white neighborhoods. In fact, some opponents of the affordable homes had a change of heart when they actually got to know their new neighbors as people looking to live in a neighborhood that was safe for their children.

“Show Me A Hero” depicts a city that nearly blew apart as a result of hatred, fear and anger.

It’s a cautionary tale with an enduring lesson: leadership has a responsibility to heal.