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13 March, 2023 13 13 Comments

The Lies That Grind

March 13, 2023 By Jeff Perlman 13 Comments

I’ve never been called a ‘good ole boy’.

Last week, I think I might have been.

I wasn’t singled out, and names have not been released, but I think I might be in this group called the ‘good ole boy network’.

For the purposes of this blog, I’m going to assume I’m in the network. I hope I am because I’d be in good company.

It seems there is a group in town who support the mayor and Commissioner Juli Casale. They are on a mission to clean up the “mess” the good ole boys made of this place and replace it with what?

Good government?

That would be nice. We haven’t seen that around these parts in quite some time.

The crew that opposes the good ole boys have been all over Facebook vowing to clean up more messes if they continue to have the votes on our City Commission. A friend of mine and his good ole boy friends were advised to “buckle up.”

Hmmm….

Anyway, this mission to clean up the “mess” some of the best citizens of this town created would explain why Old School Square was kicked to the curb without a plan at a cost of millions of dollars, why we may need to sell part of our golf course to pay for millions in deferred maintenance and why we’ve gone through more city managers in recent years than the fingers on both hands. It’s all the fault of the good ole boys!

Who knew!

We’ve been warned that the anti good ole boys are the “nightmare” we all feared and it was mentioned that past leaders lacked the guts to do what needed to be done to fix our hometown.

Well, they are right on the nightmare assertion. Finally, a point of agreement! We agree that we are living through a nightmare.

But not for the same reasons—and therein lies the difference and the choice we face in the March 14 election.

There’s a lot to unpack here but let’s not leave the “good ole boy” comment quite yet.

I wanted to better understand the allegation, just in case I’m being lumped into that group, so I did a little research.

According to the New York Times, during the heyday of the Civil Rights movement, the Northern press began to refer to sheriffs, prison guards and anyone with either a bullhorn or a German shepherd as a good old boy.

Hmmm…I’m a Jewish guy from Long Island, I’ve never owned a bullhorn and I have a golden retriever and a chihuahua not a German shepherd, so maybe I don’t qualify.

My friends don’t meet that criterion either, besides many of the people I believe being referenced are—-wait for it—- women.

But I didn’t stop there. I didn’t want the New York Times to be the last word on this fascinating subject.

The Oxford dictionary defines good old boy as a “man who embodies some or all of the qualities considered characteristic of many white men of the southern US, including an unpretentious, convivial manner, conservative or intolerant attitudes, and a strong sense of fellowship with and loyalty to other members of his peer group.”

Well, this a mixed bag.

My peer group is a loyal bunch (we call it friendship) and unpretentious. But intolerant is a stretch; kind is a more apt description of the people I’m thinking about.

But here we are.

We live in a strange universe where many of our best citizens and most generous contributors are on the outs.

There is a real attempt to rewrite local history, recast heroines as villains and try and make the case that everything that came before this current group was wrong, corrupt and incompetent.

Not exactly.

Luckily, the truth is a stubborn thing. While lies get halfway around the world before the truth puts its pants on (to borrow from Mark Twain) the truth has a pesky way of shining through. In other words, truth endures.

Which means that every time the civic achievements of a generation of kind and giving people are denigrated, it diminishes those that do so.

In the past few weeks of this heated election season, I’ve seen some of our best mayors made fun of—with suggestions that a few should seek memory care. And I’ve seen a narrative that said redeveloping downtown Delray was easy and could have been accomplished by just about anyone.

I don’t think so.

It took an army of talented people. An army….who knew how to work together, knew how to engage the community and knew how to collaborate with each other.

As for the mayors, well, I don’t think dementia is something to joke about, besides I know those mayors and on their worst day they can run circles around these social media legends.

But I digress.

I do not think anyone is above criticism.

If you venture into the “arena” you can count on it. And truth be told, plenty of mistakes were made; that’s what life is. Hopefully, you fix them and don’t repeat them.

But I also don’t think it’s healthy or wise for a community to chew up and spit out those who gave their time, treasure, and passion to a place.

I almost felt bad about some of this nonsense, but then I remembered a scene from the movie Good Will Hunting and I felt better.

In this pivotal scene, Robin Williams, who plays a therapist named Sean, confronts Matt Damon who plays the genius Will. Will had criticized a painting in Sean’s office and by extension Sean’s life.

Here’s a snippet of the script. It’s terrific.

Sean: I thought about what you said to me the other day, about my painting.

Will: Yeah?

Sean: Stayed up half the night thinking about it. Something occurred to me…and I fell into a deep peaceful sleep and haven’t thought about you since. Do you know what occurred to me?

Will: No.

Sean: You’re just a kid, you don’t have the faintest idea what you’re talking about.

Will: Why thank you.

Sean: It’s all right. You’ve never been out of Boston.

Will: Nope.

Sean: So, if I asked you about art, you’d probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michelangelo, you know a lot about him. Life’s work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientations, the whole works, right? But I’ll bet you can’t tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You’ve never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling.

The scene proceeds with a dissertation on war, women, and life itself. It’s a masterful piece of screenwriting but there’s a profound lesson baked into the scene as well. Sean has hard earned experience, while his critic, in this case Will, lobs missiles from the cheap seats, from a place of anger and insecurity. That’s where bullies live.

Life, business, leadership always seems easier from the outside looking in. But if you examine every success story you see the struggle. I have yet to encounter a single “overnight” success story. It takes grit, hard work, sacrifice and this is going to sound odd—a fair amount of failure to succeed.

Why failure?
Because you learn from your mistakes.

So, when you see and experience criticism, please consider the source. Is he or she credible? Have they been in the situations that they are opining about?

Have they run a non-profit arts organization?

Have they made decisions that impact their neighbors?

Have they taken a risk, failed, got up, wiped the blood from their nose and tried again?

Meanwhile, this is a partial list of who is on the outs in Delray Beach these days. If you see these good ole boys and girls give them a pat on the back. They’ve earned it.

A veteran public school teacher who won a “Woman of Grace” Award recognizing her lifetime of volunteering for good causes.

A founder of an arts organization widely credited with leading the renaissance of downtown Delray. She recently won a “Distinguished Achievement Award” given by the University of Florida in recognition of her work as a champion of historic preservation.

A local business owner who gives to just about every charity in town, raises money by organizing a banquet honoring police officers and founded two charitable organizations that give back to local non-profits.

A semi-retired real estate developer who has spent the past 20 years serving on non-profit and city boards while supporting local charities just because he loves this place and wants to see it thrive.

A local contractor who has devoted himself to all things Delray for over 25 years.

A dedicated community servant who is involved in education, the environment, historic preservation, economic development and making sure we have a tree canopy.

A small business owner and philanthropist who has been involved in everything from the arts and culture to making sure we have trained Santa’s at the tree during the holidays.

I can go on and on.

These people are not entitled, elitist or self-serving—they are interested, generous and passionate about our hometown.

Something is amiss when they’ve been sidelined, kicked to the curb, and ridiculed.

Good ole boys?

Well, they are good.

Some of them are old (but young in spirit). Besides there is absolutely nothing wrong with being old.

Lastly, none of them are boys. They are men and women who care.

Period.

And win or lose tomorrow they won’t be silenced. They won’t be bullied.

Vote accordingly.

6 March, 2023 12 12 Comments

The Name Is Bonds, G.O Bonds

March 6, 2023 By Jeff Perlman 12 Comments

We lost the amazing Beth Johnston last week. According to her Facebook page, Beth displayed this photo in her various offices over the years. From left, Chuck Halberg, former Banyan Creek Elementary School Principal Bill Fay Jr., Beth and me. Photo taken at a Principal for a Day event.

With 8 days to go before the March 14 municipal election, life in these parts becomes a fire hose of news, rumors, insults and allegations.

I thought I would touch on a few because there’s just not enough time to give the full treatment to the various subjects flying around Delray.

Let’s start with the general obligation bonds voters will be asked to approve or vote down. The total is a whopping $120 million, by the far the largest bond issue in the city’s history.

There are two questions on the ballot:

The first is whether to approve $100 million in new debt to “finance the cost of much-needed renovations and innovations to the existing police station (located at 300 W. Atlantic Avenue), Fire Station 111 (located at 501 W. Atlantic Avenue), and Ocean Rescue Headquarters (located at 340 South Ocean Boulevard), as well as fire stations 112, 114 and 115 located throughout the city”, according to the city’s website.

The number I’m hearing is $80 million of that money is for a new police station. So, I’m already a little confused since the city’s website says, “renovations to the existing station.”

The next question asks voters to borrow $20 million for parks improvements. The improvements leave a lot to the imagination. Which parks? What improvements? There are some specific improvements noted for Catherine Strong Park which would see restroom and lighting improvements, walking trails, covered basketball courts and improvements to the Splash Pad.

Will your taxes go up if these items are approved? Yes, according to the city’s website.

The estimated cost to a resident (with a $250,000 taxable assessed value) will be about $107 for the first year of the Public Safety GO Bond referendum. After the City retires its 2005 and 2013 bond debts, on February 1, 2024, the cost is estimated to go down to $90 annually per $250,000 of assessed value.

Of course, many of you have homes with a much higher assessed value, so I urge you to do the math to see what your bill may be. Tack on another $22 a year for the parks bond (if it passes) per $250,000 of assessed value.

The city is assuming a 4.25 percent interest rate. With interest rates and inflation volatile, I would imagine all bets are off.

From a philosophical standpoint, I believe it’s important to invest in your city.

I wrote about the importance of investment and the use of bond financing in my best-selling book “Adventures in Local Politics” which has now sold 14 copies on its slow (very slow) climb up the New York Times bestseller list.

But all kidding aside, I’m not supporting the $120 million in General Obligation Bonds that will be on the March 14 ballot in Delray Beach. A few former mayors that I’ve talked too are not supporting it either, so I’m not alone.

I can’t speak for them, but I’ll tell you why I feel the way I do.

Briefly, I don’t have faith that we can do all these huge projects successfully and I don’t have enough specifics on the projects themselves to vote yes. It’s an awful lot of money and we’ve been awfully dysfunctional.

Personally, I’d like to see better leadership steering the ship before handing over this kind of money. I’d like to see more stability and more public involvement and education too. There has been virtually no input or education on these bonds. Very few specifics either. The commission I served on, backed by a stable and very capable staff, had trouble with a $25 million parks bond because costs ballooned. And we were a collegial group with veterans at every position in city government. This is hard stuff to get right.

Still, the needs we have are very real. But they didn’t crop up overnight. I’ve always wondered why we didn’t go to the bond market when money was virtually free. I suspect it is because we’ve had rampant turnover and a whole lot of political infighting in recent years. It’s hard to focus when you have a revolving door of City Managers. We’ve lost an historic opportunity to tackle our needs with interest rates we may never see again.

Now interest rates are rising, and inflation is still very real and everything I’m reading indicates that the Fed is going to keep raising rates until inflation is tamed. Here’s a sobering data point: During its 110-year existence, The Federal Reserve has never been able to arrest inflation without raising its Fed Funds rate to a level that is higher than the inflation rate. We’re not there yet.

After spending years majoring in the minor, the City Commission has suddenly decided to take on a slew of major projects: the bonds, the water plant (that absolutely can’t wait), fixing the mess they created at Old School Square (which will cost us millions of dollars to finish renovations that a private donor had pledged to pay for) and last but not least, the long neglected golf course which was allowed to go to seed.

The commission is considering (no final decisions have been made) selling a portion of public land to a developer to finance needed the repairs at the golf course.

I’m all for moving the big rocks, but you need the right team in place. I’m hoping this election will begin to move us in the right direction, but fixing what’s broken here will take more than one cycle.

I hope we can get that stability and systematically go after the infrastructure fixes we need to make, which also include preparing for sea level rise, a very large cost that Delray and other coastal cities face.

As for the golf course, any objective observer of this “process” can see what ails us in real time.

Lack of input from citizens, meetings held at inconvenient times, meetings cancelled wasting the time and money of applicants, public anger at the lack of information and the list goes on.

I like public private partnerships, but struggle with selling public recreational space to private interests.

Regardless, politics is more than policy. It’s timing too.

This doesn’t feel like the right time in terms of leadership, the economy etc.

We need stability, an end to the divisiveness on the dais and for our elected leaders to begin reaching out and involving our residents at the beginning of the process not a mad scramble days before an election.

P.S. Isn’t it ironic that there is a mad scramble to address the public blowback on the golf course. Old School Square wasn’t given that courtesy despite over 11,000 petition signatures. Shameful. We can do better.

Vote accordingly.

Remembering two we lost…

Delray lost a wonderful man recently with the passing of Jim Sclafani.

Jim was a long-time resident living in Tropic Isles with his lovely wife Arlene. He was fun, charming and kind.

Jim gave back too.

He volunteered for the police department, serving on the marine patrol and his company, Multi Image Group, produced a lot of videos for the city to help promote Delray. He was a dedicated Rotarian, a gifted entrepreneur and the life of every party he attended.

We attended many over the years and always enjoyed laughs with Jim and Arlene. Such a special guy, such an amazing couple. They did so much for so many for so long…

Jim lived a wonderful life. May his memory be a blessing.

We also lost Beth Johnston last week which is devastating news for those of us who were lucky to cross paths with Beth over the years.

Beth was a neighbor, friend, community servant and leader.

She was kind and she was special.

She touched so many organizations and people over the years it’s hard to know where to begin.

My most enduring memories of her are from her days at the Delray Chamber where she was part of a team that created warmth and memories every day.

In a cynical world, that’s invaluable.

Beth also left her mark at FAU where she was kind enough to connect me to Tech Runway, which was just getting under way.

At the Boca chamber, she involved me in the Young Entrepreneurs Academy where I was able to see the next generation of business leaders learn and grow.

At the YMCA, Spirit of Giving, Lake Worth-Lantana Chamber and elsewhere she left her mark as a connector, friend and contributor.

People like Beth make communities go. She was a doer with boundless energy and optimism, and it was contagious.

As a neighbor, I got to know her as a devoted wife to her wonderful husband Tom and a great mom to Claire and Abbey.

She was so proud of her family. And they of her.

Beth was taken way too soon, but what a legacy she leaves.

And when I think of community, the idea, the concept, the feeling my heart goes to people like Beth and Jim Sclafani.

Their kindness, willingness to serve and their eagerness to give back is what makes a village.

I grew up being told that nobody was irreplaceable. That’s wrong.

Special people leave a hole. We move on, we remember, but they leave a hole. And as we get older, we are full of holes, as we lose the people who enrich us. All the more reason to be thankful for today.

27 February, 2023 6 6 Comments

The Long And Winding Road Cities Take

February 27, 2023 By Jeff Perlman 6 Comments

I found this old newspaper from January 1995 chronicling Delray’s Decade of Excellence.

Thirty-six years ago, I fell hard for Delray Beach.

Like so many others, I moved here to start a new life; attracted by the sunshine and the promise of a new hometown.

I was fortunate to find both.

In 1987, Delray Beach was a very different place than it is today.

The city was known as “Dullray Beach” in those days because the downtown was dead and everything new and exciting seemed to be happening in Boca or elsewhere.

But Delray was anything but dull in the 80s.

The politics were—to be kind—“lively”, crime was through the roof and there was no shortage of things for a young reporter like me to write about.

So, write I did. At least five stories a week for a decade.

From the back of a police cruiser, I rode with our officers through neighborhoods that were open-air drug markets and marveled at the scope of despair. Late at night, I saw small children on bikes working as look outs for drug dealers. When they spotted police, the kids would signal the corner drug dealer who would scatter into the night. People lived in fear—they had lost their streets to the crack dealers.

On Atlantic Avenue, I went into a bar one warm summer evening and saw a woman take off her shoe and stab someone with her stiletto because the victim glanced at her boyfriend. At City Hall I watched elected officials do the same thing (metaphorically speaking) to each other.

But despite the crime, the grime, and the slime, it was an interesting time.

My new town was aspirational.

You could feel the momentum building toward positive change. It was an electric time, a transformational era. I had a bird’s eye view and I loved every moment of the ride.

In those days, there was a strong desire to make the downtown vibrant.

There was a passion to preserve historic districts.

There was also a thirst to bring stability to local government because the leaders at the time understood that a well-run city was essential to success and that government could partner with others to bring dreams to life. Bad government stifles investment and innovation, good government facilitates. Our leaders understood that and made it happen.

Our citizens at that time were active and engaged—there were multiple opportunities to connect, to volunteer, to have your voice heard. Things were happening.

The rusted chain link fence that surrounded the property on Atlantic and Swinton came down and a new cultural arts center came to be thanks to a visionary named Frances Bourque.

Frances came up with the idea and worked closely with citizens and city government to bring the dream to life.

In 1991, a new City Manager came to town and hired a new police chief and almost overnight we had stability at City Hall and a new focus on making our city safe.

Two years before in 1989, voters went to the polls and approved the Decade of Excellence bond which financed $21.5 million worth of projects that citizens asked for as part of a visioning process called Visions 2000.

A year after the bond passed, a new era in politics dawned with the election in 1990 of a new mayor and two commissioners who ran on a promise to promote stability and civility. They delivered and our town changed.

From that point forward— and for a good long time– a lot of important things happened. Delray went from “Dullray” to All America City, Best Run Town in Florida and Most Fun City in America. There was a lot of civic pride, a lot of collaboration. Ties were formed and some barriers that had been built up over the years began to crumble.

Of course, not all was perfect or smooth. It never is.

There were challenges, speed bumps and events that nobody could ever foresee.

Yesterday, was the 18^th anniversary of the loss of Jerrod Miller, a 15- year- old teenager shot to death by a rookie police officer outside a school dance.

You think you understand pain, you think you are prepared for anything until violent tragedy visits your city.

You quickly learn that you are not prepared. You learn the importance of building a reservoir of goodwill before tragedy strikes, because trying to build it after is too late. You have nothing to drawn on if you start engaging after the fact.

You also discover that there is no “how to” manual to guide you when you learn that several of the 9/11 terrorists were biding their time in your town, preparing for an attack that would change our world.

There were hurricanes, development controversies, a few scandals and the normal squabbles over bike lanes, parking and the merits or demerits of traffic circles. But for the most part it was a happy and immensely proud village.

Civic pride is a real asset because when people fall in love with their city they give back, they act with kindness and care. They become stewards and evangelists and a virtuous cycle takes root that enables progress; great, lasting, and meaningful progress.

But the last several years feel different; to me and many others I speak with.

We’ve gone off track.

We’ve stopped working together, we’ve stopped consulting the public and consequently we gave back a lot of what we worked so hard to achieve.

Yes, I know the sun is still shining.

The Avenue is still rocking.

The beach is still beautiful.

But our neighborhoods have changed—big money has come to town and knocked down some old houses. Many longtime residents are cashing out, especially in our eastern neighborhoods. We ought to stop long enough to understand what that means. Will these newcomers vote? Will they volunteer? Will they send their kids to school? Will they care about this place? Do we value the character of neighborhoods?

Young families and essential workers are having a hard time finding a place to live in our community. We need to understand how that impacts our city, schools, and business community. Every apartment complex voted down is an opportunity lost for a nurse, teacher, police officer or firefighter to get a toehold in our community so that maybe they can make a life here.

And I remembered….

There was a lot of protesting against Mallory Square when it came time to vote on that project years ago. The stylish and beautifully landscaped townhomes on U.S. 1 were going to replace a Chevy dealer and some residents thought it would add too much traffic to Federal Highway.

Planners will tell you that residential uses generate less trips than commercial uses but some people didn’t believe that. Still, people don’t move to a downtown to drive, and the dealership had a lot of employees who came and went, a lot of customers and a slew of test drives.

The project was approved.

I think it worked out.

I thought about that mini controversy the other day when I went to dinner with a Mallory Square resident who is quietly changing lives in our town. He works with kids who need a hand up, not a handout.

Might he have moved elsewhere had that project been denied? Might another community have benefitted from his generous heart if that opportunity to put down roots here didn’t exist?

What other game changers might move into our town if we create more opportunities for our workforce to live here?

Other things have changed as well.

Public engagement—long Delray’s secret sauce has left the building.

And as much I despise Covid, it can’t all be blamed on the virus.

The annual town hall meeting is AWOL.

City Commission meetings begin at 4 p.m.– during the workday for a large swath of the population which means they cannot participate.

Government has taken over our highest profile non-profit: Old School Square. And it looks like volunteerism went the way of the Blackberry—fondly remembered by a few diehards but no longer ubiquitous; no longer a way of life. At one point we had over 1,200 volunteers at our Police Department, we had hundreds of people who participated in crafting the downtown master plan, volunteers resurrected Pineapple Grove, read to kids in local schools and showed up at countless charettes to share their vision of their city.

Has it all moved online?
Is that a good thing?

Facebook is a fine invention, great for scoping out old flames (or so I’m told), favorite former teachers (that’s you Mr. Romanelli) and college buddies. It’s also terrific for looking at pictures of babies and furry friends, but it’s a poor substitute for community.

The best things about the All America City Competition was the community building aspect of the effort. Same with festivals, Friday night concerts, community pot-luck dinners and study circles, which looked at issues relating to race relations.

This entire city was focused on trying to get citizens involved and engaged.

In a few weeks, you will be asked to vote on two General Obligation bonds totaling $120 million. I can’t find anyone who knows much about it.

Where are the specifics? Why now, when interest rates are climbing, and inflation is raging? Did the public have input into these projects?

Where was the promised public education campaign? A Town Hall meeting a few weeks before the election seems inadequate for what will be the largest bond issue—by far—in the city’s history.

And I can go on and on.

But let’s just say these are symptoms of a larger disease.

Here’s what I’m seeing; just one guy’s opinion based on 36 years of immersion in all things Delray.

The public is being removed from the public’s business in a town that re-invented itself and met its challenges through civic engagement. If you don’t consult the community, you can’t serve the community.

Dedicated volunteers are being sidelined and replaced by more government; sometimes that means your money is being used to settle political feuds: the prime example is Old School Square, which was an 80-20 partnership, with 80 percent of the money it costs to run the facility raised privately. That was a good deal and it worked. Until now.

Why? That’s the question posed by signs I see around town. And it’s a good question.

Lies and harassment are taking the place of dialogue in a town that once prided itself on trying to have honest conversations, even if, especially if the subject matter, wasn’t pretty.

Vote accordingly.

We can do better than this.

We must, because so much is at stake.

20 February, 2023 6 6 Comments

Waste Deep In the Muck

February 20, 2023 By Jeff Perlman 6 Comments

There are two things you can count on in every local election cycle: personal attacks and complaints about development.

Like clockwork— every January-March—we hear accusations that one or more of the candidates are on “Team Developer”, in the “pocket of developers” and or “on the take.”

Follow the money, we are told.

Delray has been ruined; we are told.

Downtown is so busy nobody goes there anymore (Yogi Berra would love that one).

We hear that candidates are evil, weak, and not who they say they are.

And we wonder why citizens want nothing to do with local politics and why promising leaders treat public service like it’s a manchineel tree—a single bite of its fruit can be fatal and touching the bark, sap, or leaves gives you painful blisters.

“Let’s jump into the polluted pool,” said no one ever.

We can do better, but we don’t.

And the cycle continues.

These days, the attacks aren’t limited to the candidates, they are also leveled at supporters of the candidates as well, local business owners who dare to express an opinion and even their innocent clients who might find themselves in the middle of a blood feud they know nothing about.

That’s a new wrinkle and a bad one.

But trust me, the fear is real.

I went to a “kick-off” party for a commission candidate recently and noticed that when asked to sign in some people refused. They were fearful of being “outed”, worried that they would be punished if they were seen at the “wrong” place with the “wrong” people.

“I have a business,” said one secret supporter to a volunteer. “I just can’t take the risk.”

I don’t know about you, but I think we should aspire to live in a place where we can safely express our opinions without fear of retribution or fear that if we do so, our business or favorite local charity will be targeted by vengeful politicians.

I want to live in a place where if I need an approval for a project or a permit to fix my kitchen, I don’t have to worry about who I was seen dining with at City Oyster or whose sign I have on my lawn.

Here’s a concept we ought to consider: how about we vote on the merits of the project? Let’s leave the personalities out of it.

Yes, I’m aware that we have a lot on our plates these days. We struggle with rising insurance rates, crazy grocery bills, high rents and the usual array of buffoonery coming out of Washington D.C.

It’s easy to see why people tune out local politics.

But local politics are important.

If we elect the wrong people, civic achievements like Old School Square can go away in one night and cost taxpayers millions of dollars.

Elect the wrong people and suddenly an independent CRA that got things done can be commandeered by politicians late one night (without public notice) and an important economic development tool gets compromised when those politicians promptly make the agency political—imagine that.

If we elect the wrong people the culture at City Hall changes.

What does that mean for you?

Well, getting a permit for your home improvement project can turn into a game of attrition, a simple public records request may take months to fulfill (if it gets fulfilled at all, I’ve been waiting on one since before Thanksgiving) and you may wake up one day to a giant sucking sound of police officers and firefighters leaving your town for better pastures.

Speaking of fire, how long does it take to replace a fire station?

The one on Linton sits abandoned for years, while firefighter/paramedics work out of a trailer. And while we wait, the cost of capital and construction costs soar.

Hey, it’s only taxpayer money….

So, here’s the big reveal.

Local government matters.

Local leadership counts.

But the political process is ugly and awful at all levels.

It’s going to be hard to drain the swamp that is Washington D.C.

I believe, someday soon, that we will be forced to do so because if you keep smashing against the guardrails someday you break through and you go off the cliff. And then you have to hope you survive the fall.

Pause, breathe… whew… sometimes it feels good to vent.

But let’s bring it back home shall we; to quote “Tip” O’Neill “all politics is local” and while fixing D.C. will take a Herculean effort, we can surely improve our little corner of this country. Yes, we can. And we must.

How?

We can vote. So many of us don’t, but we should.

We can insist on empathy, kindness, and respectful debate.

We can ask candidates to debate their respective visions and discuss what makes them think they can deliver for the people they work for: namely us.

Your background, skill set, education and life experience is fair game and so is your record if you have one. But personal insults, lies and attacks on family–cross a line. And once that line is crossed it’s hard to go back. And hard to move forward as a community.

As for development can we raise the bar on the discourse please?

This is so tiring, cycle after cycle of misinformation and scare tactics.

Good grief.

So here goes…

Not all development is bad.

Not all development is good either.

But eliminating development is an impossibility. We live in a land where owners of real estate have property rights. If we ignore or trample those rights, we will be sued and we the taxpayer will pay the bill.

So, the job of an elected official is to vote against bad projects and vote for good projects and to take those good projects and make them better.

Delray Beach has restrictive land development regulations. We don’t allow 10 or 12 story buildings like our neighbors in Boca and Boynton do. That’s a good thing. I don’t know of any candidate who wants that to change.

There has never been a project that has been granted a waiver or a variance for height. Not one. The big buildings you see in east Delray were built in the 70s, before lower height restrictions were adopted.

Our scale makes Delray Beach special. There is no appetite to raise the height limit and no mechanism to do so.

As for density, well…that’s a complicated subject for another day, but let’s just say that in Delray our density is capped depending on the zoning district and there is no mechanism to raise it, so a developer can’t even ask for an exception.

Which begs the question, what are we arguing about?

We should be talking about uses: what do we want to see in Delray?

We should be talking about design: do projects fit into the local fabric? Are neighborhoods losing their charm because new home designs are incompatible with our village by the sea ideal.

We should be talking about traffic, which I would contend —and many urban planners would agree— is at least in part created by people driving to work because they don’t live here, because they can’t live here.

Like most cities in America, we need housing—attainable housing for our workforce, teachers, police, restaurant workers, firefighters, nurses etc.

Now attainable or affordable housing is a difficult subject, because in a city where land can fetch millions of dollars per acre, it is hard for projects to pencil out for a developer who typically needs financing to put a stake in the ground. For many workers, the cost of a single family home in Delray Beach is way beyond what they can afford. Their opportunity to live and work here may be limited–for now anyway and maybe forever–to living in a townhome, apartment or multifamily condo.

I have to go all the way back to my high school economics class, but when supply of something is limited, prices go up. As a result, in order to achieve some affordability, we are going to have to discuss adding more product (i.e. density) —-where it makes sense. Let me repeat, where it makes sense.

These are good conversations to have, but we aren’t having them as a community or as an electorate.
Instead, we are bombarded with endless attacks on whose taking money from development interests.

Well, here’s the answer: everyone running for office.

Everyone on the ballot in March is cashing checks from people who have real estate interests.

But here’s the difference, some candidates are open about it and others are cashing checks and then whacking their opponents for doing the same.

In the interests of full disclosure, I work for a company that invests in real estate. We’re not developers, but sometimes we joint venture with a developer. As a result of my experience in this community, I have gotten to know many developers.

Some are good.

Some are not so good.

But good developers don’t mind if you have high standards. They are OK if your rules are tough. What they want most is a fair process that doesn’t take forever. They want a system that judges projects on whether they meet the city’s rules and not on whether they supported a particular candidate or were seen at the wrong kickoff party.

We need to raise the level of debate. All of us. Every side.

Currently, we aren’t hearing a debate about our community’s future.

We have water issues to discuss, we have economic development opportunities (if we choose to care about jobs and our tax base) and we have cultural issues at City Hall which have led to a revolving door of talent coming and going (and often suing when they leave).

We have to figure out Old School Square (and how to pay for it, now that the non-profit that created the place was kicked to the curb in the middle of renovations) and most of all, we have to figure out how to get along with each other. We can start by not electing people who divide us.

Indeed, there are issues galore to discuss and think about.

We need candidates willing to tackle what we used to call “The Big Rocks.”
I got an email last week from a young man that I mentored when he was in high school and college. He asked me what I looked for in a mayor or a commission candidate.

My answer: leaders who aren’t afraid to wrestle with the toughest challenges there are.

What I dislike most?

So-called leaders who ignore those challenges and worst of all create problems and divisions.

Vote accordingly.

13 February, 2023 7 7 Comments

Valentine’s Day

February 13, 2023 By Jeff Perlman 7 Comments

“We need joy as we need air. We need love as we need water. We need each other as we need the earth we share.” – Maya Angelou

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day and I’m thinking about love.

I’m listening to the late great Burt Bacharach and Bruce Springsteen and I’m listening to the universe too.

Because when I stop for just a moment, I hear, see, and notice things that I normally miss as I go from meeting to meeting, toggle from call to call and multi-task my way through life.

But when I slow down, I get clarity. I bet you do too.

Here’s what I noticed last week.

We went to see Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band in Orlando and I was transported once again by an artist I have been listening to since I was a young boy blasting my stereo in my room and dreaming about where life would take me.

His music still resonates, his words still matter.

“With her long hair falling

And her eyes that shine like a midnight sun

Oh she’s the one

She’s the one”

“She’s The One” was released in 1975, when I was 11.

Back then, I just loved the music—the growl of the guitars, the beat of the drums. It was rock n’ roll and I was hooked.

As I got older, the words began to matter more. They began to mean something. And I started to wonder about the world. I began to dream.

Would I ever find someone who would make me feel —with every fiber of my being —that yes “she’s the one?”

But last week, when Bruce and the band launched into the song, I looked at my wife and I knew—all over again—that yes “she’s the one.”

Same song. Same words. New emotions.

I slowed down, listened and I heard the magic.

On Thursday morning, I got up early to emcee an event for the Boca Chamber featuring two amazing doctors and the dynamic new CEO of Delray Medical Center.

I’ve done a lot of this kind of stuff over the years, but I still get nervous standing up in front of a large crowd. But it went well, and I was swept away by the passion of these health care professionals who are there for us 24/7/365/.

We heard from an oncologist named Mahdi Taha and a cardiologist named Eric Lieberman and I was moved by the care in their voices, their intelligence, and their message of early intervention. And I thought to myself: “we are so blessed to have these people in our world.”

We need more healers. We have enough dividers.

A few days earlier, a colleague and I made the trip to the Max Planck Florida Institute in Jupiter where a foundation I help manage is funding a fellowship in neuroscience.

We met with three brilliant scientists and an administrator for lunch and conversation. We toured the labs and watched experiments in real time.

It was captivating.

We were blown away by their intelligence, curiosity, and kindness. And I thought “someday we will have an answer for Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s and dementia, thanks to these brilliant minds.”

I am watching a dear friend and hero of mine struggle with Alzheimer’s and I am watching my beautiful and brave wife battle Parkinson’s and I am overcome with love for them and admiration for their strength and grace.

Strength and grace. Oh, how we long to see these traits in our leaders.

As I write this, we are in the middle of yet another brutal and demeaning election season in Delray Beach. Every year, it seems to get worse and worse, more personal, more visceral, in a word: stupid.

If you didn’t know any better, you would think we live in a hell scape.

We don’t.

It’s February and the sun is shining; the temperature is ideal.

We are surrounded by natural beauty, we have cultural and recreational amenities at our fingertips and despite the doom and gloom of the news the future is bright for us in South Florida.

I’m not blind to our challenges—we lack housing, our schools always need help and we have people who suffer from sickness, despair and a lack of hope and opportunity.

And there is hatred in our society. It’s there.

Racism, antisemitism, misogyny, homophobia—and more.

There are people who wake up every day and live to bully, hurt, and tear down others.

The answer to all these problems and all the bullies out there is love.

I know that sounds trite, but sometimes trite is true.

One more example of what happens when you slow down long enough to notice.

I am on the board of Lynn University. It’s a joy, because the school is cool, innovative and most of all caring. The leadership team works well together. It reminds me of my days at the City of Delray Beach where I would marvel at the relationships between the various parts of our local government.

Where’s there’s trust, where’s there’s collaboration, you will find love and you will find success and progress too.

It’s not rocket science, it’s a simple formula but for some reason so elusive to capture and sustain.

Somehow egos, narcissism and bullies always seem to spoil the punch bowl.

We need to be conscience of these actors. We need to keep them away from the levers of power which they use to cause great and lasting damage. We need to insist on kindness and yes love.

I was on a conference call with Lynn’s President and his leadership team discussing how they engage students, how they try to be there for everyone and how they plan to reach out to local public safety workers to discuss the trauma they experience every day. It’s a team dedicated to serving others, a team dedicated to making the world a better place.

And I found myself energized just to be in their presence.

I noticed.

On this Valentine’s Day, I hope you’ll look around and notice too.

I’ll give my musical muse Bruce Springsteen the last word on this subject.

From the song “Land of Hope and Dreams.”

Grab your ticket and your suitcase

Thunder’s rolling down this track

Well you don’t know where you’re goin’ now

But you know you won’t be back

Well darlin’ if you’re weary

Lay your head upon my chest

We’ll take what we can carry

Yeah, and we’ll leave the rest

Well, big wheels roll through fields where sunlight streams

Meet me in a land of hope and dreams….

3 February, 2023 6 6 Comments

Our Proud History: Remembering Mrs. Pompey

February 3, 2023 By Jeff Perlman 6 Comments

Pompey Park is more than just a name.

Editor’s Note:
I’m posting this blog a few days early because we are off to see Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band in Orlando and I know I will be too tired to post Monday. Seeing Bruce and the band after 7 long years of waiting is an emotional experience for us “Spring-Nuts” so I’m taking Monday off.

It’s Black History Month and I’m thinking about some of the people who made history right here in Delray Beach.

There are so many local giants, special people who led the way and left a legacy of love and service.

But this year, I’m thinking about one woman in particular: H. Ruth Pompey.

The H was for Hattie.

Mrs. Pompey passed away in 2009.

I miss her.

Mrs. Pompey was married to C. Spencer Pompey, a legendary civil rights leader, coach, and educator.

I’ve been reading Mr. Pompey’s book “Many Rivers to Cross” which his wife published after he passed and maybe that’s why I’ve thinking about Mrs. Pompey.

But there’s another reason she’s on my mind; and while I’m at it I’ve also been thinking about these folks too: Alfred “Zack” Straghn, Elizabeth “Libby” Wesley, Nadine Hart, Loretta and Sam McGhee, Joe and Carolyn Gholston, David and Mary Randolph, Vera Farrington, Lula and Len Butler, Red and Yvonne Odom and Beatrice Tyson.

There are others. So many others. But for now, that list will do.

These were the matriarchs and patriarchs that shaped so many lives in Delray—mine included. We’ve lost many of them, but a few are still around.

We should be grateful for them all.

I’m thinking about them because they possess a common trait: they shared their wisdom with others.

All of them sought out promising up and comers, sat them down, and shared what they had learned. And they were sought out as well. Smart people called them and asked them to share their thoughts, perspectives, and experiences.

It was an informal system and it worked because you learn from your elders and if you’re smart you take what they have learned, and you leverage that knowledge. You stand on the shoulders of those who came before. You reap the harvest from the seeds they struggled to plant and nurture.

That’s how progress happens, you build on the work of past leaders. You don’t rip things down and you don’t incinerate the hard work of others.

People like Mrs. Pompey were stewards. We need stewards because they understand what’s precious and what’s worth preserving.

It’s easy to rip something down.

It’s a lot harder to build something of value.

And sometimes when you erase things they are gone for good. It’s like taking a tree and chopping off its limbs. Often, that tree dies and you’ve lost something majestic forever.

I wonder sometimes whether we understand that cruel rule.

I’ve been reading a lot about Tyre Nichols; trying to make sense of his senseless murder in Memphis. I wanted to know more; to feel more before he is lost forever and replaced by the next headline. And there’s always another headline isn’t there?

I learned that Mr. Nichols was a father, a skateboarder and a photographer who loved capturing sunsets. I have a friend who does the same thing. His name is Kerry and he was once a firefighter in Memphis. Yes, the universe connects us in magical ways.

I’ve also been reading about our Governor and the brouhaha over the AP African American History curriculum. I wonder who he’s consulted, who he’s sat with or if he’s consulted with anyone at all.

And I’ve been seeing the rage on social media that exists in our own community about our community and I’m left to wonder.

What would my friend H. Ruth Pompey say about it all?

Are there people like her still around? Do our leaders seek them out?

I did.

I spoke to many, and they carried me through every crisis, real or imagined in my life. There were many. When you step into the arena, crises come with the territory.

When Mrs. Pompey passed, I got a call from her daughter asking me to eulogize her mother. I had spoken at Mr. Pompey’s funeral in 2001. It was a great honor because he was a great man.

I was touched by the request to pay tribute to Mrs. Pompey.

I recently found the eulogy searching through emails that Mrs. Pompey sent me through the years. I wanted to hear her “voice”, I wanted to connect once more.

She didn’t write me often, she preferred phone calls or visits, but her emails were always full of encouragement and wisdom.

Hope too.

She was full of hope. And she had ambition. Dreams for her community, dreams for the world.

So, I wonder what she would make of “all this” …I don’t have a word for what we are going through. But I hope you know what I mean.

A young man died on the streets of Memphis calling for his mother….

In a few days, some of us will mark the 18th year since our community lost 15-year-old Jerrod Miller. But I suspect that most of us don’t know that name. Or remember what happened right here in our town. Please Google his name because it was an important event in our city.

Many of the people I mentioned earlier got us through that tragedy.

Their wisdom and perspective helped us immeasurably.

They are all part of our history; part of our fabric; part of our town’s DNA.

I fear we are losing that thread.

If you care to read, I’ve shared what I said at my friend’s funeral all those years ago.

She was so special.

We were so blessed.

Remembering Mrs. Pompey…

In the Jewish tradition there is a poem that is often read when a great woman passes.

The hymn is called “A Woman of Valor” and as soon I heard the news about Mrs. Pompey…my thoughts turned to the sentiments expressed in that beautiful 22-line poem, which was the eulogy that Abraham delivered for his wife Sarah.

“A Woman of Valor is worth more than pearls..”

Mrs. Pompey was a woman of valor and her beauty, her elegance, her wisdom, her intelligence, and her love has enriched all of our lives and the community that she called home from the age of 3…her beloved Delray Beach.

Mrs. Pompey’s life was poetry.

Like a poem there was a grace to her that defies my ability to describe…But if you knew her…if you experienced her essence for even a moment..you knew that you were with someone who understood the world…saw its beauty and its pain…and yet radiated hope, love and kindness for all her days.

She had a quality that very people that you meet in this life have…it was a light…

A light that shined so brightly that it not only illuminated her and her family…but also those of us who were blessed to know her….she lit up Delray Beach and this world for 86 years and while we are all saddened by her passing…we are grateful that her light shined for as long as it did on our lives and on our community…we are forever enriched by her presence…the poem that was her life….

I met Mr. and Mrs. Pompey when I was a 22-year-old newspaper reporter…new to Florida…new to my profession…and new to this community.

I sought the Pompey’s out because everyone I spoke with in town said that if I wanted to understand Delray…the history that didn’t necessarily show up in traditional texts…I needed to sit with Mr. and Mrs. Pompey.

And so I did.

We sat in their parlor, where they took time to educate a stranger so that I may do my job better…Mr. and Mrs. Pompey were great teachers and wonderful storytellers and because of the time they spent with me I fell in love with this community…its stories, its promise…its potential and most of all its people.

When I first contemplated public service…I spoke with Mr. and Mrs. Pompey right after I consulted my immediate family. It is fair to say that without their blessing and encouragement I would not have run for office…such was the esteem that I held them in. Their belief in me inspired me…but also instilled in me a huge sense of responsibility.

“If you are going to serve, then make your service matter”…that’s a direct quote from Mrs. Pompey.

“ Don’t waste this opportunity,” she told me with a smile. “The sun rises, the sun sets…don’t hold anything back…make your service and your time on this Earth count.”

I wrote those words down in my reporter’s notebook and carried it with me in my heart and my mind through seven years of trials and tribulations in public office.

I loved Mrs. Pompey and I know she loved me…because she told me so. During some of my darkest moments…the kind of times when you question whether you have the fortitude to go on, I’d sneak over to her house across the street from the park named for her dear husband and she never failed to set me straight. Never…

I later learned she performed the same miracles for many others over decades and decades of life and service to others…she made each of us lucky enough to be exposed to her wisdom…..her poetry…feel like we were the most special people in the world. We were certainly the most fortunate…

I am a lucky man…because I have had 7 such special forces in my life…Mr. and Mrs. Pompey… Ms. Elizabeth Wesley…my grandfather, my mother, father and my wife…Three of those people are not kin, in the traditional sense anyway….but it didn’t matter …they made me feel like family.

Mrs. Pompey called me cousin Jeff…we were blood she joked…because several years ago I was privileged to donate blood after one of Mrs. Pompey’s surgeries.

“It’s official,” she said “We’re cousins.” And truth to be told… I did feel closer to her.

My wife reminded me this week of one of her favorite sayings…death does not end a relationship…the love goes on…and that is so true. And to the Pompey family…and all of us gathered here…we will continue to have a relationship with Mrs. Pompey because her lifeforce, her wisdom, the lessons she taught all of us will endure forever.

Mrs. Pompey…like her husband… was a visionary. She believed in education. She believed in G-D…she believed in community, service, sisterhood, and the potential of this city to be a beacon for the rest of America…and because she believed …we did too.

She worried about today’s young people…and we talked about the young men and women she saw outside her window…she took pride in those who sought knowledge and opportunity.

And she worried…really worried– about those left behind to wander the streets.

We spoke through the years about Delray’s history, and she told me of her husband’s many crusades…always playing down her role in his remarkable life. But we knew better…There were times—and I experienced a few of them…when she held this community together.

Mr. Pompey…he loved her so…they crossed many rivers together and showed us all a better future….

When Mr. Pompey passed in 2001, the light in Mrs. Pompey’s eyes dimmed…of course she had enough to light up a football field…but you could see she was not quite the same…Still… she persevered… it was tough though.

She missed the love of her life, every moment of her life.

Together they crossed so many rivers….integrating the beach right here in Delray…fighting for equal pay for African American teachers…ensuring that black children received the same number of days of instruction as their white neighbors and so much more…she never felt her work was done…my friends…that’s how the great ones think…as much as they achieve…as many accomplishments as they rack up…they see how much work there is left to do…they see the possibilities where others see limitations…they see more rivers to cross, which was the name of Mr. Pompey’s book.

And I wonder…as we lay Mrs. Pompey to rest alongside the love of her life…I wonder where we find people to take up the mission she so gladly and so gracefully took on.

She not only lived a good life, but a grand life. She did big things…she was a long-term thinker…she stood for causes larger than herself. There was no agenda…other than making her piece of the world better for others.

My hope is that the life she has led…this great woman of valor….is an inspiration for all of us to rise above our own problems and endeavor to make this world, this community a better place…find a river to cross…the rivers are there… all around us…

I’ll conclude with a funny anecdote…I hope it brings a smile to your face on this sad day…

Near the end of Mr. Pompey’s incredible life…we decided to hire a sculptor to capture the image of this great man in Bronze…sadly shortly after his sitting for the sculpture, Mr. Pompey passed away. But the project continued and the sculptor…inspired by Pompey’s legacy…finished her masterpiece…

The finished product was larger than life. Literally.

It also didn’t look anything like Mr. Pompey…in fact…truth be told…when we showed it to people, they thought it looked like Zack Straghn….

But the artist insisted she captured Mr. Pompey’s spirit, and so we showed the sculpture to Hattie Ruth…now we all know how polite and genteel she was. Her greatest delight was showing her friends pictures of her sororities debutantes…taking great pride in their appearance and their manners…

True to form….she looked at the sculpture and not having the best poker face…it was clear that she thought it looked like Mr. Straghn too…but she didn’t want to hurt the artist’s feelings so she said she could…well…live with it.

So, the artist left and a day or so passed…a few of us called just to make sure that she was OK with this sculpture…we reminded her that this piece was going to be in City Hall in her hometown forever…and that as much as we loved Mr. Straghn…and you certainly deserve your very own sculpture sir…maybe we ought try again.

And so, we did. And the artist…our dear friend George Gadson, got it right. But Mrs. Pompey made sure we didn’t hurt the original artist. That was Mrs. Pompey always concerned about others.

Today that sculpture greets all those who come to the heart of power and citizen led government in Delray Beach…it is my wish that we add to that collection and find a way to honor Mrs. Pompey so that generations of people who visit, live, work and study in Delray shall know the impact of this great woman and this great family.

Their memory should be a daily and living reminder of sacrifice…service over self…civility….and equal opportunity for all.

She once gazed out her window and worried about the youth of this community…we can cross that river in her honor and do our best as a village to heal those whose lack of direction in life troubled her so.

Mrs. Pompey loved poetry— her favorite poet was Paul L. Dunbar. I read his works this week as I mourned the loss of my friend…my family member by blood….and I drew comfort from the words of this African American poet who died at 33 in 1905….

This is a poem called “The Farmhouse by the River”…When I read this, I want you to picture that small ranch house overlooking Pompey Park….

“I know a little country place where still my heart does linger,

And over its fields is every grace lined out by memory’s finger.

Back from the lane where poplars grew and aspens quake and quiver,

There stands all bath’d in summer’s glow a farm house by the river.

Its eaves are touched with golden light so sweetly, softly shining,

And morning glories full and bright about the doors are twining.

And there endowed with every grace That nature’s hand could give her, there lived the angel of the place in the farm house by the river.”

Mrs. Pompey crossed many rivers …she was the angel of a place call Delray…and she will live in our hearts forever….

30 January, 2023 9 9 Comments

Letter To You: Ferreri Edition

January 30, 2023 By Jeff Perlman 9 Comments

Gary getting a promotion.

To start the New Year, The New York Times ran a “7-Day Happiness Challenge.”

I thought it was great.

I completed the challenge and I have to say, it made me feel happy.

But of all the exercises they suggested, Day 4’s challenge resonated most deeply.

Here’s what the Times asked its readers to do.

“For today’s exercise, we’re going to get vulnerable and tell an important person in our lives how we feel about them. “Think about what they have done for you in your life,” said Dr. Bob Waldinger, a professor of psychiatry at Harvard Medical School and the author of the new book “The Good Life.” “Where, or who, would you be without them?”

Consider what you would thank this person for if you thought you would never see them again. Take a few minutes and write down what you would tell them, with as many specific examples as possible. Don’t overthink it: It can be both dashed off and straight from the heart. Think of it as a eulogy for the living. Then send it — by email, text, handwritten note, whatever. The medium doesn’t matter, sending it does.”

Yes, it does.

The happiest people take time to cherish the people they love, Dr. Waldinger said. Writing a note of appreciation to someone, research has shown, has an immediate positive impact on feelings of well-being and connectedness, for both you and the recipient.

I believe that.

I publish this blog every Monday morning in part to do just that—connect. And my writing often focuses on the people I have come to love and admire.

It feels good to write about special people who touch us. It makes us feel grateful and in a world that often feels a little off kilter (to put it mildly) that’s a good thing.

So am I going to up my game, or at least the frequency in which I devote this space to letting people know how cool I think they are.

With that intro, I want to send a shout out to Lt. Gary Ferreri of the Delray Beach Police Department.

Let’s start by saying that to know Gary is to love Gary.

He’s warm, funny, devoted, and accessible. He’s a wonderful police officer because he wears his affection for this community on his sleeve. He loves this place, and the community loves him back.

While still a very young man, Gary has already done a lot for his department, his city, and his friends. He’s the guy you can call at 2 in the morning and know that he will help. He’s been an officer for 16 years now and I have watched him go up the ranks and do well at every stop along the way.

If you google Lt. Ferreri you will see story after story of service.

Whether hosting youth football camps, delivering blankets to the homeless, warning residents how to avoid burglars or going to Washington D.C. during National Police Week to honor fallen officers, the common thread is protecting and serving. Another trait he exhibits: respect for others and the job itself.

Delray Beach lost an officer named John Kennedy in 1974. Officer Kennedy was ambushed in his cruiser while working on West Atlantic Avenue. He was 32 years old, had five children and a pregnant wife at home.

On Officer Kennedy’s Officer Down Memorial Page, Gary posted the following note. I found it touching and instructive. Read this note and you will know Gary’s heart.

“Today is a day of great sadness; Yesterday afternoon two NYPD Officers were murdered in cold blood, 3AM this morning a Tarpon Springs Police Officer was also murdered. I woke up and felt that I needed to visit you on this page.

Although I never met you and probably would’ve never met you as you would have been retired after I started my career at the DBPD in 2007, I feel like I have known you forever. I am honored to say that your son John has accepted me into your family as if I was his own son for the simple fact that WE share the same profession. I met your son, daughter in-law and grandchildren many years ago responding to a burglary that occurred across the street from your old home. Since then, we have become the best of friends. I have gone on vacation with your family, even been pranked by your grandchildren multiple times (the best was when they put flour and glitter in the A/C vents in my car, “priceless”). Last year, I had the most amazing honor and privilege of escorting your family to Washington DC’s National Police Memorial and hope to go again this coming year. This week I will be having Christmas dinner with your family and couldn’t be more happy.

Your spirit lives on at the Delray Beach Police Department and you will never be forgotten.

Thank you for your service and sacrifice.”

Isn’t that beautiful?

Gary suffered the loss of his father recently. Attendance at the funeral was huge.

I couldn’t be there, but I was with Gary in spirit as so many were. We appreciate this amazing young man who has given us 16 wonderful years and G-d willing many more.

I wanted to remind Gary that this community cares for him because he cares for us.

If you see him around town, thank him. I will. And I will pray for the safety of the men and who protect and serve us so well.

I’m writing this in the wake of the tragic death of Tyre Nichols in Memphis. Like most of America, I was gutted by the release of the body cam and video footage of the vicious assault that took his life.

Like every profession, there are good officers and bad officers. I believe the vast majority of officers are good people trying to do a hard job. Let’s hope that out of this tremendous loss we can find a better way forward together.

In Memory of Peter Blum

Philanthropist, business leader and former Manalapan Mayor Peter Blum passed away Jan. 23.

Mr. Blum was a wonderful man who touched many lives through his long life of giving and achievement.

His name adorns the Boynton Beach YMCA and countless charities thrived thanks to his generosity and vision.

I was personally touched by his big heart when I had a serious case of Covid in 2020 and Mr. Blum and his lovely wife Mary shook the trees to help me get convalescent plasma, which was not yet approved but allowed for compassionate use.

Many others searched for and donated plasma as well. I am grateful to them all.

I was in ICU and heading downhill quickly when I received two doses of plasma. The treatment turned the tide and I believe saved my life.

I wrote to Peter and Mary Blum when I got out of the hospital thanking them for their efforts. I received a lovely note in return.

Because of the pandemic, I never had a chance to see the Blum’s in person.

But I am forever thankful.

Here’s a link to his obituary. What a wonderful man.

https://www.lorneandsons.com/obituary/peter-blum

23 January, 2023 20 20 Comments

My Friend Was A Hero

January 23, 2023 By Jeff Perlman 20 Comments

Louis “Skip”Brown was 73.

Skip Brown passed away last Tuesday.He was a friend of this city.

Skip touched a lot of hearts. He gave his all, always. Then he retired to a small town in Alabama.Skip served 20 years as a Delray Beach police officer, gaining local fame for his work with the K-9 unit and later as the department’s volunteer coordinator back in the days when we had over 1,000 volunteers.Skip gained national recognition for some of his programs especially the Homefront Security group he put together after 9/11.He was a bronze star winner for heroism on the battlefields of Vietnam and he came back to Old School Square to accept the medal which was given 45 years after he served. He chose me to pin it on him.It was an incredible honor and we did our best to create a special ceremony for him. It was a memorable day for a memorable man.It was the last time I saw him.We had dinner with Skip, his lovely wife Cheryl and former Chief Rick Overman and his wife at Boston’s on the Beach and said goodbye.When he left, he grabbed me, pulled me close and said there was no one else he wanted to put that medal on him and no other place he wanted to accept that long overdue honor than in Delray Beach, at Old School Square.This place touched him. And he really touched this place.P.S. Moments after I placed that medal on his chest he took it off and gave it to the children of a friend so that they could have a reminder of sacrifice and patriotism. The lucky kids were the son and a daughter of a retired firefighter and a local reporter. That was how tightnit this town was, there is a special bond between police and fire. Skip wanted retired Fire Chief Kerry Koen in the Crest Theater for the ceremony. Chief Koen was there sitting next to Chief Overman, a man Skip deeply admired.These are the ties that bind, for a lifetime or a season.

The Bronze Star ceremony at the Crest.

Skip and I had a complicated relationship. Skip was a complicated man.He was impacted by his experiences in Southeast Asia and by his experiences in Delray Beach which was a different town back in the 80s. Skip worked road patrol when Delray was wracked and wrecked by crack cocaine. He had stories and I listened.I was a newspaper reporter in those days and Skip and his wife Cheryl lived around the block from me with their birds and K-9 German shepherds.He had my daughter’s Brownie troop over to his house so they could meet the pets and he once brought Olk and Rambo to my backyard to show a group of neighborhood children the power and the discipline of a highly trained K-9.We used to meet at the end of Skip’s shift in my driveway where we would talk about life and Delray until the wee hours of the morning.We grew close. He referred to me as a brother. And I had great respect for his vision, commitment and dedication to this community and especially the senior citizens he recruited for his volunteer patrols.Many were World War II veterans, members of the Greatest Generation, and in Skip they found a kindred spirit who understood their service and who appreciated their passion to give back.CNN, documentarians, authors and academics came to Delray to take a closer look at the magic that was happening at our Police Department. President Bush greeted one of Skip’s volunteers at PBIA and Gov. Bush came to Old School Square after 9/11 to honor the work being done.When a volunteer got sick, Skip was there—many times at a hospice bed providing comfort and kindness.He was a gruff man. He was big and strong and tough as they get. But he had a heart of gold. There was a gentleness beneath the surface that we saw and savored.

When he retired, Skip and Cheryl moved to Alabama and we stayed in touch periodically but we grew apart too. Proximity matters, and we were far away. And the bond that we shared—Delray Beach—had frayed. The town changed, the volunteer program wasn’t quite the same, the Greatest Generation began to leave us.Still, we experienced and shaped a very special era. Every day I’m reminded of what we had and what we’ve lost.But Skip and I stayed friends, until one day we drifted apart for good.

But before we drifted, when I got sick with Covid, Skip reached out with prayers and support. When I made it through the dark days, he talked to me about PTSD and survivors guilt. He told me I was spared for a reason and he sent me articles to help.But we had our differences too. We had different views on guns and presidential candidates.Still, he called me a brother. And then our relationship stopped —abruptly.I do not know what happened. I am left to wonder. We just drifted apart. I’ve been bothered by our inexplicable estrangement. I think about it a lot.And now he’s gone. Just like that. And I have all these questions and no answers.But I do know this, I never stopped caring about my old friend, the man who taught me so much.Right now, I’m saddened by the loss of this special man. I will miss his guitar videos, his love of stray raccoons, his sense of mission and his sense of duty.I’m sharing this personal reminiscence because I blew it when it came to this man.I let our long period of silence persist and now he’s gone.Don’t let that happen to you.Life is a long and bumpy road and along that road we meet fellow travelers.Skip was with me for many miles before we went our separate ways. And now he’s gone. If only I had one more night with my friend under the streetlights. We could have talked about what we learned. How it all turned out. What was next for us.That won’t happen now.Skip changed my life and the lives of many others.Don’t let those people go. One more lesson Skip Brown taught me. Rest in peace my brother.

Here’s a link to the WPTV Channel 5 News Story about the Bronze Star: https://www.wptv.com/news/region-s-palm-beach-county/delray-beach/retired-delray-policeman-awarded-bronze-star-45-years-after-vietnam?utm_content=bufferc5c4b&utm_medium=social&utm_source=twitter.com&utm_campaign=buffer&fbclid=IwAR1mToGqoK-CULsySdo9F9NTbIAx02FfYm64tdMAtO-XrlcQR4ALZfOMBGE

16 January, 2023 4 4 Comments

A Change Is Gonna Come

January 16, 2023 By Jeff Perlman 4 Comments

“On some positions, Cowardice asks the question, “Is it safe?” Expediency asks the question, “Is it politic?” And Vanity comes along and asks the question, “Is it popular?” But Conscience asks the question “Is it right?” And there comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but he must do it because Conscience tells him it is right.”

Out of the mountain of despair, a stone of hope.”

“I was a drum major for justice, peace and righteousness.”

Breathtaking, just breathtaking.

Don’t those words make your heart sing?

What a gift Martin Luther King Jr. had.

What a legacy he left us. What an inspiring visionary he was.

MLK is one of my all-time heroes. I’m not alone, millions throughout the world admire the preacher from Ebenezer.

And so MLK Day is special.

We read Dr. King’s memorable quotes, watch his famous speeches, and remember a true giant.

On MLK Day 2023— in a world plagued by violence, war, incivility and a lack of empathy; where some of us view our fellow Americans as the enemy, I feel the need to immerse myself in the dream, to know it’s still alive and achievable.

But that raises a question.

Fifty-five years after Dr. King’s murder, are we closer or further away from making the dream a reality?

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. I have a dream today.

With racism and antisemitism on the rise, we are not there yet. MLK went to the mountaintop and saw the promised land. He didn’t get there– as he eerily predicted a day before his death–but neither did we.

We did not get there either.

A tyrant is on the march in Ukraine, murdering, raping, burning, bombing and trying to break the will of an independent nation.

In China, a dictator threatens Taiwan, bullies Hong Kong, and mistreats Uighurs.

And the list goes on.

Me, I wonder where the lions are (the lionesses too).

I wonder where the next generation of leaders are hiding.

We can sure use their moral leadership right about now. We need courage, vision, political will, intelligence, love, empathy and toughness. Yes, you can have empathy and be tough.

On this MLK Day, I’m thinking about our journey right here in Delray Beach.

A lion, since passed, named C. Spencer Pompey is in my thoughts of late.

Mr. Pompey’s book (a tome really at nearly 800 pages) “Many Rivers to Cross” is beckoning from my bookshelf. I have picked it up again in search of another one of my heroes who invited me into his living room 36 years ago and told me stories about integrating Delray’s municipal beach and the days when people who looked like him were not welcome east of Swinton, our historic dividing line.

And I’m thinking about Elizabeth “Libby” Wesley, a mentor to so many, the “mother of Delray” who could melt you with her smile and a well-placed word. She spoke of a covenant with the people and the responsibility those in leadership had to serve, not be served. There is a difference and it makes all the difference.

Libby and others taught me that politicians should remember that in the end the people are always heard. You can delay and you can stifle and even stomp on others, but in the end, the people will be heard whether you like it or not. Yes, Ms. Wesley we are here to serve.

Oh, how I miss those local giants; they reside in my heart and I hear their voices still.

Truth be told, we do have some local lions and lionesses and we’re blessed that they are in the trenches doing exceptional work. They give me hope that the dream is alive.

In thinking about this blog, I stumbled across a presentation I made 15 years ago in Bellingham, Washington. I was just termed out as mayor, but an organization called Transforming Local Government invited us to present to a national audience of leaders about our efforts in race relations.

We took on that subject and we did our best. We struggled, but we had some victories too and we left the job undone, just like America remains a work in progress toward a more perfect union.

Here are some notes I found that I thought I would share on this special day. I’m hopeful future leaders will take up where we left off because right now a whole lot of people feel disenfranchised, marginalized and unseen. Until we reach out to all of our neighbors, we won’t be the city we need to be.

Lessons Learned:

Dialogue not Diatribe: It is critically important to create a safe place for dialogue in your community. Dialogue allows for people to be heard…it encourages listening…it’s safe and not threatening.

We used Study Circles (small groups of citizens who meet to discuss sensitive issues regarding race in a safe and respectful environment) and we changed the format of our Town Hall meeting to encourage dialogue not diatribe. We held community pot luck dinners to bring diverse neighbors together at the Old School Square fieldhouse.

Big meetings are often nothing more than invitations to grandstand and therefore these meetings lose their meaning and we find that people interested in dialogue stay away or are too intimidated or nervous to get up and speak.

Note: These words were written before the onset of social media where diatribes and echo chambers rule. So much toxicity is dispensed without us ever sitting down as neighbors to talk. It’s a lost opportunity easily remedied if leadership searches for ways to connect us to our neighbors and practice civility.

Be Proactive not Reactive: We identified race relations as an issue…. we didn’t ignore the issue…we didn’t wait for an incident to put a process and an effort in place. Consequently, when we did have an issue (the shooting death in 2005 of 15-year-old Jerrod Miller by a rookie police officer outside a school dance) we had a process in place and had built up a reservoir of good will among people in the community. They knew we were trying….

Note: Is anyone in leadership building that reservoir of goodwill today? I see a lot of vitriol online, blame, innuendo, bullying and conclusions drawn without dialogue. Some of it comes from people who call themselves leaders. I don’t see any official effort to bring the community together.

Build Trust: Trust is essential for dialogue to take place. People need to feel valued, respected and listened to before they will trust. This is not a process with a beginning, a middle and an end…it is a commitment to doing things differently and changing how business is done.

Note: When the commission I served on launched the race relations initiative, we hoped to pass it on to future commission’s because we knew the task would be something we needed to work on for the foreseeable future, maybe even forever. The notion of stewardship is critically important in a community. We are only here for a finite amount of time, good leaders know how to protect what’s valuable, improve what needs betterment, transform what needs to be eliminated and turn over the job to others having left the community better off than before.

Build Relationships: A lot of success can be attributed to showing up. It’s critically important for the leadership of a community to show up…. you need to be visible, accessible and responsive…at all times. But not only do you have to show up: you must stay. You can’t just show up and leave. You can’t just start something and stop. People watch…they can tell whether you’re sincere or opportunistic.

Note: The social justice lawyer Bryan Stevenson talks about “proximity.” Leaders need to be in the trenches not above the fray in order to connect and be effective.

Follow through: Actions Matter. Talking is wonderful. Dialogue is invaluable, process is important, but results are how we’re ultimately measured.

Note: Our community mourns the loss of three unique contributors.

Stormet Norem was a long time business leader active in the Delray Chamber and in the Boynton Beach business community for decades.

Stormi– as he was known– was a kind person who ran funeral homes and served on numerous boards. He will be deeply missed.

We also lost Boca Raton philanthropist Yvonne Boice-Zucaro last week.

Yvonne was a kind and generous community servant who touched countless lives through her service to dozens and dozens of good causes.

I recently saw her at the Lynn University Christmas party and she seemed to be happy surrounded by friends and admirers. Her loss will be felt far and wide but her impact will live on.

We also mourn the loss of Roger DeCapito Jr. who lost his life tragically at age 28 in a boat accident on Lake Osborne.

“Rogie” as he was known left a huge mark on so many as evidenced by the huge crowd that attended his funeral at Ascension Catholic Church in Boca Raton.

It was heartwarming to see such a large crowd surround Roger’s parents and family with love during this painful time. May they find some peace as they mourn this huge loss.

9 January, 2023 10 10 Comments

A Case For Grace

January 9, 2023 By Jeff Perlman 10 Comments

I’ve been thinking about grace lately.

Grace: What a beautiful word.

Sadly, there’s far too little grace in this world. We’d sure be better off if there were more.

We named our golden retriever Gracie because we thought the name was cute. But the name also felt right. Maybe subconsciously we were looking to add a little grace to our lives.

Last week, the Downtown Development Authority held a grand re-opening of the Cornell Museum at Old School Square.

Readers of this blog know how I and some 11,000 others who signed a petition feel about the City Commission’s decision to terminate the lease of the non-profit that created Old School Square and loved the place for 32 years.

The decision and how it was done was the opposite of gracious. It’s been ugly, expensive, and hurtful, in more ways than we can calculate.

The DDA is stepping into the mess created by this town’s toxic politics and while I do not believe government should be running our cultural arts center, we need to be gracious and wish them well.

Personally, I hope they hit it out of the park and then I hope they find a way to create a community organization that will love and give that special place their hearts for years to come. A community non-profit working alongside city government is the secret sauce.

In other words, I hope they can replicate what we’ve lost, which in a word was love. Love for a place. Love for community.

And so, I think those of us who care about Old School Square should make a statement to that affect. If you love something, you need to root for it to be healthy and successful.

Right now, Old School Square’s campus is not healthy.

The campus seems sad.

The theater will miss yet another season and the classrooms are empty.

Those who love the historic buildings worry about the state of those buildings. Old structures need to be nurtured. We worry that the buildings are not being tended to. Let’s hope we’re wrong.

But despite what we think of the decision to terminate— by my estimate the worst made by a commission in my 36 years living here—we need to root for the project gifted to us by the efforts of Frances Bourque all those years ago.

We need to cling to the idea of a community gathering place. We need to root for those buildings, that theater, those classrooms, and that museum to come to life and get its soul back.

That doesn’t mean those of us who love Old School Square should give up our fight.

The best way to stand up to a bully is to do what’s right, and in this case, litigating is the only option because our elected “leaders” refuse to meet and talk like we have always done in this town.

Let’s pause for a moment and talk about the lawsuit. OSS Board members have been called “unpatriotic” for suing their own city. As if you should just allow an injustice to happen, pack your bags, thank your bully for allowing you to serve and leave with your tail between your legs as if you are a pledge in the movie “Animal House” being paddled and replying: “thank you sir, may I have another.”

No, thanks.

Capitulating is not patriotism and that’s not loving your city as the board of Old School Square, its patrons, supporters, donors, former employees, and volunteers most surely do. If you love something, you fight for it.

There is no financial upside to this lawsuit for OSS not to mention the stress that accompanies litigation. But there is value in fighting for a cause, even if you lose.

There’s value to standing up against political forces who cut out the public and decide to kill something without a conversation with the community they are supposed to be serving.

But make no mistake about it, lawsuits are terrible.

Lawsuits indicate failure.

Failure to talk.

Failure to compromise.

Failure to use reason and negotiation to come up with a solution to a breach.

In this case, it’s a failure of political leadership that is costing the taxpayers millions of dollars that could have easily been avoided with some—you guessed it: grace.

When OSS offered to settle, a majority of the city commission didn’t even want to hear the details. They refused to consider the offer. They’d rather use your money to pay out of town lawyers than talk with their neighbors.

Every living former Mayor except for Tom Carney (who served for a few weeks) dating to Doak Campbell through Cary Glickstein signed a letter asking simply for the city to meet and talk with their partners of 32 years. Just talk.

Like we’ve always done; like we’ve always been able to do in what we used to call the “Delray Way.”

The OSS Board was not merely a “tenant” or a “management company”, they were the creators of what had been Delray Beach’s signature civic project. These are the people who birthed a community based cultural arts center that created a renaissance for our downtown and for our city. Pre Old School Square, Delray had been suffering from blight, vacancy and neglect before Frances Bourque and others sparked a movement.

That a civic icon has ended up on the “outs” forced to litigate the city she has served passionately says all you need to know about Delray Beach in 2023.

She is joined by a group of wonderful people who have served this town well for decades. Their hearts are broken.

A place striving to be a community would recognize this hurt and do something about it.

As of the writing of this blog, nobody has called Frances Bourque in over a year.

We’re not talking about a call to help fix the breach, discuss the future, or get some tips (which people in this city can surely use because they have sure made a mess of things). But just to say, “thank you”, or “I’m sorry for your pain.”

When the DDA got the job, they didn’t call. They should have.

My peeps call it being a mensch. A mensch, in Yiddish, is a person of integrity, morality and dignity; someone with a sense of what is right. But the term mensch is more than just an old Yiddish adage. It is relevant across the world because we are suffering from the actions of nihilists, narcissists and nincompoops. Just look at Congress.

To be a mensch is to be supportive; to be a friend, to be calm in troubled times and do the right thing.

It means showing grace.

A call doesn’t cost us anything, but it’s meaningful.

It doesn’t compromise a lawsuit and it doesn’t take hours of your day, but it would mean something if it was a sincere acknowledgement, not just a check the box gesture

Grace and gratitude matter.

Accountability also matters.

OSS has tried to own its mistakes. It has never made a representation that it was perfect. Contrary to what you’ve been told, documents that were asked for were produced (of course, the authorities kept moving the bar) and audits, while late (during a pandemic when the auditor quit), were clean.

Instead of sitting down and airing issues, like over 11,000 petitioners asked this city to do, we chose to do the opposite.

And that’s costly for us as taxpayers. That’s why you should care. That’s why you should vote.

For the folks saying move on, well tell that to the taxpayers footing the bill for all this dysfunction.

For all the money given to OSS over the years, the return on investment was many, many times greater. In fact, the money given to OSS were grants, awarded after services asked for were rendered.

OSS paid 75-80 percent of the costs and did all the work year after year.

Now, we the taxpayer, are on the hook for 100 percent of the costs. This includes millions to finish renovations that were already paid for by a generous donor who pulled her money mid-construction when the organization she supported was kicked to the curb without public input or even an agenda item. How many other generous donors who may have given to our library, Arts Garage or other non-profits looked at what happened and decided to keep their checkbook on the sidelines? Is it safe to donate to a local non-profit that works with city government?

So how do we hold people to account?

Sometimes in court and always at the ballot box and word has it that there’s an election in March.

Either venue doesn’t guarantee justice or accountability. Our system is far from perfect and bad actors sometimes get rewarded. But the long arc of history has a way of bending toward justice. Karma also plays a role.

Still, we can’t forget about graciousness.

The DDA is a capable organization, but building a community is a people business and someone from that organization should call and thank Frances Bourque, long time president Joe Gillie and other key contributors who gave us the gift that is Old School Square. They should also call Margaret Blume, the generous donor whose gift of $1.6 million enabled the renovation of the Cornell Museum. It seems like the plaque honoring that donation was removed by someone before the re-opening of the museum.

Maybe it will be put back. It should be.

As I write this, I got a text saying that the DDA will be updating the history of OSS and will acknowledge donors. New wording should be up next week. That’s good news. But I hope the phone rings at Frances’ house because without her input I don’t know how that history could be complete or accurate.

It would have been nice to acknowledge these key players opening night. That’s when the crowds show up, the speeches are made, and the Instagram videos are posted. Alas, that opportunity came and went. Like so many opportunities we keep missing to heal, to build community.

Absent the most recent opportunity, we can always place a call.

Again, it has nothing to do with a lawsuit and everything to do with being gracious. It has everything to do with showing empathy and respect for people who have done a lot for this town.

The hardworking team at the DDA deserves our support. We all have a rooting interest in their success as they take on this important mission.

We show grace by our well wishes.

We help to heal a community if that graciousness is reciprocated.