Kick Ass (27 page)

People finally figured out that Joe was talking about himself. By the end of his miserable tenure, he had offended, slandered and nauseated the multitudes and gained a statewide reputation as a venal backwater McCarthyor worse, a parody of one. Even the staunchest of anti-Communist organizations repudiated his tactics.

Carollo’s name was such political poison that people who didn’t even live in Miami wanted to move here, just so they could vote against him. In 1987, he lost in a muckslide.

Ironically, the only commissioner in recent years to act as preposterously as Joe is the man he’s running against, Miller Dawkins.

It was Dawkins who declared that Ronald Reagan created the plight of the homeless “when he fired the air traffic controllers.” It was Dawkins who asked if it was legal to build a tall fence around the Camillus House to protect downtown Miami from the poor and the hungry who stay there.

And it was Dawkins who vowed to prevent an AIDS counseling center from opening near Overtown”if I have to break the law and get the brothers out there and burn it down.”

At these moments it seemed like Dawkins was striving to fill the void of crudity left by Carollo, or perhaps trying to eclipse the legend himself.

But, of course, that’s impossible. There’s only one Joe and he’s ours again, at least until Novemberback in the headlines, back on the talk shows, back in the glare of the TV lights.

Our own little media monster, back from the bogs.

Candidates can’t hide true colors

November 13, 1989

Miami poll workers ought to hand out antidepressants at the voting booths Tuesday morning.

What a lame collection of would-be commissioners on the ballot. You could toss a mullet net over any bus bench on Biscayne Boulevard and come up with four more distinguished candidates.

Thank God there were only six days between the general election and the runoff; to subject the public to any further campaigning would be an act of sadism.

First you’ve got Joe “I Hear Voices Again!” Carollo. Until last week, he had doggedly avoided the English-language media and confined his ramblings to Hispanic talk shows. Then he realized he would need the Anglo vote to win, and instantly he became garrulous and cooperative.

Suddenly Carollo was aiming that pained frozen smile at TV cameras and trying to sound like Mr. Let’s-Unify-Miami instead of George Wallace (for whom he once campaigned).

Before long, though, the old Joe resurfaced. You just knew he couldn’t go a whole week without unveiling some screwy conspiracy theory, and he didn’t disappoint us.

On Friday, Carollo produced a laughably vague affidavit (with all the names conveniently blacked out) alleging a sinister vote-buying scheme in the 1987 election.

Considering the margin by which Carollo got stomped that year, the only person rich enough to buy that many votes was Victor Posner, and he was busy with other charitable matters.

This year Carollo’s chances are bolstered by the performance of his opponent, incumbent Miller Dawkins, who once threatened to burn down an AIDS counseling center.

No one on the City Commission has a keener aptitude for uttering dumb things at the worst possible times. For this reason, Dawkins’ advisers have urged him to run a low-key race, and to say as little as possible.

This isn’t easy when a notorious drug dealer such as Isaac Hicks is announcing that he gave thousands in cash to previous Dawkins campaigns. The candidate has carefully responded that he never engaged in such a slimy transaction, which was (for once) exactly what any smart person would say.

Next we have Rosario Kennedy seeking a commission seat for which she earnestly promised not to run.

Having lost the Democratic congressional primary, the ex-commissioner faces some old uncomfortable questions. Voters are still ticked off about the $111,000 refurbishing of her city office, and they’re still curious about her friendship with celebrity tax swindler Monty Trainer.

On the bright side, Kennedy has always been honest when giving her street address, which is more than you can say for her opponent, Miriam “Have Zip Code, Will Travel” Alonso.

Alonso is best known for lying about where she lived in order to run for a Metro Commission seat. The falsely sworn election document was apparently insufficient evidence for the state attorney to prosecute, but it was enough for a judge to kick her off the ballot.

This time around, Alonso promised that she wouldn’t try that kind of stunt. Still, you’ve got to wonder about the force of her ambitions.

She changed party affiliations three times in less than two yearsevidence of either crass political opportunism, or a multiple-personality disorder. Most normal people don’t switch record clubs three times in two years, not even for a dozen free albums.

So this is the roster from which Miami voters must choose new leadership. It’s a shame that not one of the candidates comes without a history of having done or said something profoundly stupid, or downright dishonest.

It’s also a shame that only a small number of eligible voters will make the selection for the majority. If those who stay home Tuesday are waiting for a candidate who inspires them, they could die of old age first.

Unfortunately, democracy in these times is less a quest for new heroes than an obstacle course through stale mediocrity. As disheartening as it is, sometimes you’ve got to choke down your feelings and vote for the lesser of two feebles.

Gersten vote to test savvy of metro voters

March 11, 1993

Sometimes an election is a community IQ test.

The city of Sunrise had one this week. Next Tuesday, it’s Miami Beach’s turn.

Sunrise did itself proud. An impressive 73 percent of voters decided that they didn’t want a convicted extortionist as mayor. The shameless John Lomelo got tromped at the polls.

On Tuesday, a scandalized Joe Gersten runs for Metro Commission in District 5, which includes Miami Beach and part of downtown Miami. For Gersten to be elected would be a big upsetand a profound commentary on the collective intelligence of those voters.

For 11 months, Clueless Joe has been dodging prosecutors seeking to ask him about the curious events of last April 29, when the commissioner’s now-legendary Mercedes-Benz was stolen. The car turned up in the hands of Biscayne Boulevard lowlifes, who said they’d swiped it while Gersten smoked dope and had sex with a hooker in a downtown crack house.

Gersten claimed the car was taken from his gated driveway in Coral Gables. For weeks he toured Europe and avoided questions about the incident. When he finally returned, he unsuccessfully resisted taking a drug test. The results didn’t rule out the possibility that Gersten had smoked cocaine, but they indicated that he wasn’t a regular user.

Joey declared vindication, a bit too soon.

Prosecutors collected the logs from his car phones, and tapes of conversations between the commissioner and the dirtbags who had his car. They took statements from Gersten’s maid and fiancée that raised more questions about Joey’s wanderings on April 29. And they found a cab driver who swore that he’d picked up a man resembling Gersten on Biscayne Boulevard that night, and drove him to Gersten’s neighborhood in the Gables.

Only the hurricane kept the Gersten follies from becoming a running feature on the evening news. To this day, Joey refuses to give a sworn statement about what happened, refuses to disclose how he spent the evening. He says the sneaky State Attorney’s Office is trying to trap him in a perjury rap, and he’s hired a high-powered defense lawyer to fight the subpoena.

It’s been quite a spectaclean elected public official, desperately ducking his civic duty to take a simple oath and tell the truth.

Clueless Joe blames ruthless prosecutors and bloodthirsty reporters for his troubles, but it was he who called police about the missing Mercedes. It was he who provided the porous yarn about leaving his keys (and his briefcase and his gun) in the unlocked car while he strolled into the house to make a phone call.

But don’t count Gersten out. Scandalized or not, he’s been able to squeeze an amazing $250,000 in campaign donations out of bond brokers, builders and others who do business with the county, and who want to stay on Gersten’s good side in the unlikely event that he wins.

Residents of District 5 recently got a letter from “The Friends of Joe Gersten,” extolling the commissioner’s virtues while reminding voters that he hasn’t yet been charged with any crimes. The letter carried the names of such well-known political and community figures as state Rep. Mike Abrams, Simon Ferro, Jesse McCrary Barry Kutun, Georgia Ayers, Luis Sabines and Alan Potamkin.

Unfortunately, the letter tells you more about Gersten’s “friends” than it does about Gersten. It’s interesting that such civic pillars aren’t sufficiently appalled by Joey’s evasive conduct to make them set aside their political loyalties.

Maybe the voters will be suckered, maybe not. They’ve got 12 other choices, none of whom are hiding from prosecutors.

Ferre also owes voters an explanation

April II, 1993

Tales from the crypt: Maurice Ferre is back.

He is risen from the land of political losers to run for Metro Commission. Lucky for him, there’s no law against deadbeats holding elected office in Florida.

If bad debts were pit bulls, the former Miami mayor would have lost his most crucial appendages a long time ago. No one but Ferre knows precisely how much he owes, because he conveniently neglected to report it on his campaign disclosure form, as required by the state.

Ferre is no stranger to noncompliance. When he launched this most recent campaign, he still owed $65,000 of a $70,000 fine for campaign-law violations dating to 1981. The debt recently was trimmed to $62,000 after Ferre kicked in a whopping $3,000 of his wife’s dough.

He hasn’t taken the fine too seriously, and for good reason. In 1983, the Dade state attorney sued for the money, but soon gave up the hunt. Janet Reno says she put the case aside because her investigators couldn’t find any funds listed in the ex-mayor’s name. Everything had been transferred to Ferre’s wife, Mercedes.

Ferre says he did it when the family concrete business, Maule Industries, went belly up in the late 19705. At the time, the company’s liabilities were reported at $23 million. Knowing creditors would be looking for him, Ferre basically gave all assets to his wifean old dodger’s trick, and a legal one.

It wouldn’t even be noteworthy if Ferre was some private schlump who’d botched up a few business deals. He’s more than that. He’s running for a Metro Commission seat that will put him within lunging distance of a combined $3 billion budget.

It’s perfectly proper for voters to demand details of a candidate’s finances, no matter how muddled. A man who can’t balance his own checkbook, and doesn’t pay his debts, is a poor choice for handling taxpayer dollars. Ferre’s wife, in fact, would seem a more sensible selection.

The ex-mayor solemnly claims to have no assets. He describes himself as an international businessman, but insists he’s earned no moneynot a dimesince Maule dissolved about 15 years ago. So what’s he been up to?

He travels regularly to Puerto Rico and Latin America, where he supposedly assembles complicated mega-deals for other companies. Are we to believe he does it just for the sport? “I put deals together,” Ferre explained to a reporter, “and will be paid in the future.” What a curious arrangement.

In the meantime, he enjoys a “very nice lifestyle” supported by a “very substantial income” from his wife’s family holdings. This, while continuing to stiff the good citizens of Florida for $62,000.

If Mercedes Ferre doesn’t wish to cover the balance of her husband’s court-ordered fine, that’s her business. But it’s hard to understand why Ferre himself has made no serious effort to make good on the debt. He’s a bright, able-bodied, well-spoken fellow. Why doesn’t he get a paying job?

By now, he could have settled the entire matter for a measly six grand a year. Bagboys at Publix do better than that. Of course, even part-time work might interfere with the “very nice lifestyle” to which the ex-mayor is accustomed.

Under fire in the District 7 Metro race, Ferre vows to obey the law and pay off the outstanding 62 grand

gradually. The state attorney has made no move to collect.

Too bad it’s not a Visa bill. At 18 percent annually, Ferre’s 12-year slide would have compounded to a robust $473,686. And those people, like some voters, never ever forget.

Campaigns for mayoral race, so far, so bad

August 22, 1993

The best way for voters to endure the dismal Miami mayoral race is to think of it not merely as another parade of fools, but as a vaudeville audition.

With the election more than two months away, the campaign has already degenerated into a promising orgy of mudslinging and petty sabotage. The three major candidatesMiami Commissioner Miriam Alonso, former Metro Mayor Steve Clark and T. Willard Fair, head of the Urban Leagueall allege slimeball behavior by their opponents.

The question for Miami voters isn’t whether the candidates engage in dirty tricks. It’s a given that most of them do. The issue is the quality of these new dirty tricks. Are they personal enough, vicious enough, deceptive enough and craven enough to uphold the city’s sewer-rat tradition of scummy politics?

So far, so bad.

Now appearing on many cars are fluorescent bumper stickers that proclaim: “Miriam Alonso is a Communist.” Well, Alonso is not a Communist, and every self-respecting Communist ought to be offended at the suggestion. The party’s got enough headaches in Miami without having the shrill and conniving Alonso as a member.

On the question of temperament, tabloid newspapers now circulating in Little Havana enigmatically describe the commissioner as “erratic and crazy.” Is this propaganda intended to be anti-Alonso, or pro-Alonso? In some precincts, being erratic and crazy would make you the odds-on favorite.

Alonso says the nasty bumper stickers and newspapers can be traced to Steve Clark and his main supporter on the Miami commission, Victor deYurre. The reason that Clark needs a pal on the commission is (in his own words): “I don’t know exactly what’s going on down at City Hall because I haven’t been there for 20 years.”