From the Orlando Sentinel:
"In a bizarre ending to a quirky story, Mayor Nick Girone will have to publicly apologize on behalf of the city to a couple who racked up more than $10,000 in fines for painting their home in the likeness of Vincent van Gogh’s famous painting 'Starry Night.'"
I had not heard about the story until this denouenment. Mount Dora, Florida, is home to about 12,500, large enough to have a professional city manager. According to the City's website, that manager is Robin R. Hayes. It's impossible to know what Ms. Hayes provided in the way of professional guidance to Mayor Girone. Hopefully, it was that the city's dogged bullying of homeowners Lubomir Jastrzebski and Nancy Nemhauser was doomed, particularly when the couple decided to retain legal counsel.
The judicial branch indulges a good bit of tomfoolery from local governments, but takes a dim view on trampling the First Amendment, particularly when a citzen's expression is creative/artistic.
I have no doubt that neighbors and local scolds found the "Van Gogh House" irksome. And apparently the reason the couple chose to make their home into an objet d'art--an autistic son--did not thaw the ice of disapproval. But Mount Dora is not a homeowner's association where individuals can agree contractually to a color palette approved by an architectural committee. It is a city where its citizens enjoy the protections of the Bill of Rights.
Mayor Girone presumably will deliver a public mea culpa, but he owes an apology to the Constitution, not just his constituents.
Showing posts with label code. Show all posts
Showing posts with label code. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 18, 2018
Monday, September 25, 2017
Why do natural disasters often bring out the best in people...
and the worst in local governments?
Another dispatch from the post-Hurricane Irma mess comes from Green Cove Springs, Florida. According to Clay Today, city officials rousted a food truck driver who wanted to provide food including FREE meals for anyone in a utility vehicle.
Why? Someone apparently complained and Mayor Mitch Timberlake agreed saying that the food truck operator should have asked the City first.
In response, I cannot improve on the account artfully provided by Clay Today:
"Had Roundtree decided to press his case at City Hall, he would have been greeted with a sign that read: “Due to Hurricane Irma, City Hall offices and services will re-open on Thursday, Sept. 14, 2017.”
Local attorney John Whiteman happened to take a photograph of the sign on the glass door, fully reflecting the blue skies-sunshiny day. “Not the best message because it gives the impression that no one's working when I'm certain that wasn't true,” Whiteman said, speculating that the city’s administrative leaders were ensconced in the security of the police station for the duration of the emergency, thus avoiding having to communicate with the general public about things such as food truck permits."
In the aftermath of a major storm in a community where the local McDonald's ran out of food at 2 p.m., city officials found the time to dispatch law enforcement to give the bum's rush to a small business meeting a community need. I can only imagine what might have happened to an enterprising 10-year-old who opened a lemonade stand. I presume nothing less than the SWAT team in full tactical gear would have sufficed to protect the interests of the local beverage industry.
Another dispatch from the post-Hurricane Irma mess comes from Green Cove Springs, Florida. According to Clay Today, city officials rousted a food truck driver who wanted to provide food including FREE meals for anyone in a utility vehicle.
Why? Someone apparently complained and Mayor Mitch Timberlake agreed saying that the food truck operator should have asked the City first.
In response, I cannot improve on the account artfully provided by Clay Today:
"Had Roundtree decided to press his case at City Hall, he would have been greeted with a sign that read: “Due to Hurricane Irma, City Hall offices and services will re-open on Thursday, Sept. 14, 2017.”
Local attorney John Whiteman happened to take a photograph of the sign on the glass door, fully reflecting the blue skies-sunshiny day. “Not the best message because it gives the impression that no one's working when I'm certain that wasn't true,” Whiteman said, speculating that the city’s administrative leaders were ensconced in the security of the police station for the duration of the emergency, thus avoiding having to communicate with the general public about things such as food truck permits."
In the aftermath of a major storm in a community where the local McDonald's ran out of food at 2 p.m., city officials found the time to dispatch law enforcement to give the bum's rush to a small business meeting a community need. I can only imagine what might have happened to an enterprising 10-year-old who opened a lemonade stand. I presume nothing less than the SWAT team in full tactical gear would have sufficed to protect the interests of the local beverage industry.
Tuesday, September 19, 2017
A lemonade stand by any other name...
According to News &7 Miami, code enforcement officers in Miami-Dade County began issuing warning citations to property owners only hours after Hurricane Irma passed.
The report quotes Celso Perez saying:
“At the time this officer was out here, we didn’t have power, we didn’t have food, we didn’t have ice. He is crazy, ridiculous. The mayor said that the county would help us recover from the storm and were there to help us. Before the county picks up the debris, the code enforcement guy will beat them to it and some for having my fence down, write me a ticket or something. I’m mad, very upset about this.”
Perez' response is not surprising or unusual. It is the same reaction one sees when local authorities declare war on a lemonade stand. The issue became pervasive enough to wind up on the pages of the National Review.
What is it that causes local government officials to apparently lose any semblance of common sense? Is it as simple as NR's Kevin D. Williamson concluding, "We are ruled by power-mad buffoons."
Having known many well-intended (though occasionally ham-handed) enforcement officials, I don't think this is the Madness of King George. Part of the problem is incentives. Success in code enforcement is normally measured by the metric of "fixing problems." This incentivizes seeing things as problems.
There are time when an incentive is financial. In Delaware, local jurisdictions keep the money from traffic citations. In Maryland, the fines are remitted to the state government. Where do you think it is more likely to be let off with warning? Incentives matter. Always.
Incentives also can be cultural. Harkening back to the Miami-Dade example, what do code enforcement officers do? They enforce codes. What if the job title was changed to "Regulation Navigators"? What if building inspectors became construction facilitators? What if the focus shifted from enforcing a set of rules towards helping residents accomplish goals within a structure?
Until we figure this out, we'll continue to see lemonade stands shut down by overzealous officials. And with every heartbroken four-year-old, the public trust in local government will further diminish.
The report quotes Celso Perez saying:
“At the time this officer was out here, we didn’t have power, we didn’t have food, we didn’t have ice. He is crazy, ridiculous. The mayor said that the county would help us recover from the storm and were there to help us. Before the county picks up the debris, the code enforcement guy will beat them to it and some for having my fence down, write me a ticket or something. I’m mad, very upset about this.”
Perez' response is not surprising or unusual. It is the same reaction one sees when local authorities declare war on a lemonade stand. The issue became pervasive enough to wind up on the pages of the National Review.
What is it that causes local government officials to apparently lose any semblance of common sense? Is it as simple as NR's Kevin D. Williamson concluding, "We are ruled by power-mad buffoons."
Having known many well-intended (though occasionally ham-handed) enforcement officials, I don't think this is the Madness of King George. Part of the problem is incentives. Success in code enforcement is normally measured by the metric of "fixing problems." This incentivizes seeing things as problems.
There are time when an incentive is financial. In Delaware, local jurisdictions keep the money from traffic citations. In Maryland, the fines are remitted to the state government. Where do you think it is more likely to be let off with warning? Incentives matter. Always.
Incentives also can be cultural. Harkening back to the Miami-Dade example, what do code enforcement officers do? They enforce codes. What if the job title was changed to "Regulation Navigators"? What if building inspectors became construction facilitators? What if the focus shifted from enforcing a set of rules towards helping residents accomplish goals within a structure?
Until we figure this out, we'll continue to see lemonade stands shut down by overzealous officials. And with every heartbroken four-year-old, the public trust in local government will further diminish.
Wednesday, March 29, 2017
Miami Vice
Local governments have become battlegrounds between entrenched economic interests (like hotel owners and taxi cab companies) and participants in the sharing economy.
This is a policy issue where city/county administrators should inform the discussion without putting a finger on the scales. One of our responsibilities is to encourage robust public participation. This is why I read a recent Miami Herald news article with a mix of concern and alarm.
The lede:
“We are now on notice for people who did come here and notify us in public and challenge us in public,” said City Manager Daniel Alfonso. “I will be duly bound to request our personnel to enforce the city code.”
Unless I am misreading this news story, the City of Miami plans to use information provided by citizens engaged in the democratic process to target enforcement. How would Mr. Alfonso feel if he complained about a particular tax policy and found himself the subject of an IRS audit? Yes, there might be a delicious moment of schadenfreude hearing an IRS agent tell him, "I was duly bound to enforce the tax code," but it would be wrong.
Public hearings are an opportunity for civic engagement and civil discourse... not data collection. A person testifying in favor of an urban chicken ordinance shouldn't have to worry about a code enforcement officer peeking over his or her backyard fence the following day. Whatever the public interest in the specific code or ordinance, I'm confident there is a larger interest in protecting a cornerstone of the democratic process.
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