Kick Ass Part 23

Pitts and Lee had asked for $1.5 million each. House Speaker Dan Webster countered with a degrading offer of $150,000. Last week, the House settled on $350,000, or $79.46 for every day wrongly spent behind bars.

Some would still call that disgraceful. Others would say Pitts and Lee should be grateful to receive anything.

In 1963, the two black men went on trial for murdering two white gas station attendants in the Panhandle town of Port St. Joe, which in those days was segregated. Wilbert Lee was 27 and Freddie Pitts was 19.

They were convicted by an all-white jury, and sentenced to die. Later, somebody else (imprisoned for killing another gas station attendant) confessed to the Port St. Joe murders, and his account was supported by a girlfriend.

Pitts and Lee were granted a new trial in 1972, but a judge wouldn't let the jury hear about the other man's confession.

Again Pitts and Lee were found guilty. Freedom didn't come until three years later, when they were pardoned by then-Gov. Reubin Askew.

The case remains controversial in the Panhandle, where some folks still say Pitts and Lee are guilty. That it's taken Florida so long to compensate the men can be explained by old Dixie politics.

But this year finds a Republican-controlled Legislature that's avidly courting black voters. It's also a year of great bounty in Tallaha.s.see, so lawmakers have been throwing' hundreds of millions of dollars at all kinds of pet projects, causes and schemes.

There's money for jellyfish farming, and for special trucks to haul catfish; money for fairs and zoos and farmers' markets; money for the International Swimming Hall of Fame and even the Palatka Armory ($300,000!).

And at long last there's also some money for Freddie Pitts and Wilbert Lee, 35 years after being sent to Death Row for something they didn't do.

What's right? What's fair? The Senate will decide Monday.

Reparation might be based on the acc.u.mulated weight of a dozen productive years gone-the youth of both men, really. Or it could be calculated day-by-day-4,405 of them excised forever from two lives.

A $350,000 lump certainly sounds more generous than $79.46 a day, but it's the same number. Not an insignificant number, either, considering how Pitts and Lee have gotten stiffed in the past.

I don't know what one day in your life is worth in dollars and cents, but $79.46 still seems cheap to me.

Especially considering how lawmakers quietly have set aside $2.5 million for "transition" expenses for Florida's new governor next January-$2.2 million more than what was spent on Lawton Chiles' taking office.

For $2.5 million, it should be quite an arrival. They ought to hold it at the Palatka Armory, and give the rest of the money to Freddie Pitts and Wilbert Lee.

Candidates with Convictions

Forget diplomacy, try Joaquin Andujar for mayor November 1, 1985 First, let's get this ridiculous mayor's race out of the way.

The best man for the job isn't even running, so you'll have to write his name on Tuesday's ballot.

I'm speaking, of course, of Joaquin Andujar.

If you saw the seventh game of the World Series, you know what I'm talking about. The score's about a zillion to nothing when the Cards call Andujar in from the bullpen. He throws a couple of fast b.a.l.l.s, then goes berserk and starts chasing the umpires. He gets thrown out of the game but still won't quit: In the clubhouse he grabs a bat and beats one of the toilets to death.

As I watched them drag Joaquin, thras.h.i.+ng and foaming, off the field the other night, I thought: This man would make a great mayor of Miami. He's perfect-more decisive than Maurice Ferre, more stable than Joe Carollo, more intelligible than Demetrio Perez and more energetic than Miller Dawkins and J. L. Plummer put together.

In no time Andujar would mop up the City Commission. Forget diplomacy-we're talking a 93-mile-an-hour brushback pitch.

It's not such a bad idea, when you review this year's crop of political hopefuls, a veritable slag-heap of mediocrity. What is it about South Florida that compels people barely fit to function in society to go out and run for public office? Be grateful that Thomas Jefferson's dead so he doesn't have to witness our peculiar version of the democratic process.

A few stars: * Miami mayoral candidate Evelio Estrella, who blames the Anglos and blacks for ruining the city. He also refuses to speak English during candidate forums. This guy doesn't belong in City Hall; he belongs in a Mel Brooks movie.

* Miami Beach mayoral contender Alex Daoud, who actually took out an advertis.e.m.e.nt boasting of an endors.e.m.e.nt by Barry Gibb of the Bee Gees. We can only a.s.sume Boy George is stumping for Malcolm Fromberg.

* Hialeah city councilman Paulino Nunez, up for re-election, who allegedly pulled a handgun on one of his enemies during a city meeting. Despite witnesses' accounts, Nunez denies it happened. He says he owns several guns, but left them home that night. There, doesn't that you make feel better?

* Hialeah City Council candidate Roy Leon, who was arrested for soliciting prost.i.tution, possession of marijuana and carrying a concealed machete. Of all the charges, it's that darn machete business that nags at me, though I'm sure Mr. Leon has a splendid explanation. When does the cane crop come in this year anyway?

* Harvey MacArthur, the socialist running for Miami mayor, who wants to fly in both Daniel Ortega and Louis Farrakhan for advice on city government. All they need is Moammar Khadafy and they'd have a fourth for bridge.

* Frederick Bryant, who is running for Miami mayor but initially refused to let the Miami News take his photograph like the other candidates. Something tells me Mr. Bryant's a bit too shy to be mayor.

* Maurice Ferre, whose bilious campaign advisers make G. Gordon Liddy look like Mother Teresa. How can a man who dresses so snappy behave like such a clod? Think about it: We're getting ethics lectures from a guy who's transferred all his a.s.sets into his wife's name. I love it.

As for the contenders for Ferre's job, none fits the bill. Raul Masvidal is a banker-never trust anyone who makes a living playing with other people's money. Xavier Suarez is a lawyer, and this town's already knee-deep in lawyers. Marvin Dunn's a bright guy, but much too even-tempered to be mayor.

Which leaves No. 47, the big right-hander from the Dominican Republic.

Andujar for Mayor-it rolls right off the tongue.

Tough, talented, unpredictable. Just the kind of leaders.h.i.+p this city needs-somebody's who's not afraid of a little random violence.

Think about it Tuesday at the polls.

Remember, this isn't just democracy. This is damage control.

Local campaigns masquerade as serious politics November 2, 1987 If you thought Halloween ended Sat.u.r.day, you were wrong. The real night of terror is tomorrow, when local elections results are tabulated.

In Hialeah, the most investigated city in South Florida, real estate wizard Raul Martinez is favored to win re-election as mayor. To oust him would be a tragedy, putting dozens of FBI agents out of work.

In Miami Beach, inc.u.mbent Mayor Alex Daoud is so confident of reelection that he didn't even bother to show up for a televised debate the other night.

And, finally, the city of Miami-where does one begin?

Political observers are calling it the quietest campaign in years. Many big-time contributors decided to save their money this time around, which meant that the candidates couldn't afford many TV spots. What a loss.

The most vocal campaigner has been former City Manager Howard Gary, who's not even running for office. Gary has been buying radio time to urge blacks not to vote for mayoral candidates Maurice Ferre and Arthur Teele, as well as Commissioner Joe Carollo.

For those of you new to the city, here's a brief history to explain what's going on: Howard Gary doesn't like Maurice Ferre because, back when Ferre was mayor, he voted to fire Gary, who is black. Carollo voted the same way.

Ferre doesn't like Carollo because Carollo once staged a big press conference supposedly to endorse Ferre, but double-crossed him instead. With the cameras rolling, Carollo announced that Ferre was basically a waste of protoplasm, and that he wouldn't support him if he were the last person on earth.

Mayor Xavier Suarez recently decided that he doesn't like Carollo, either, because the Cuban American National Foundation told him it was OK not to.

The Cuban American National Foundation, a small bunch of rich Republicans, doesn't like Carollo because he's an embarra.s.sment to the human race. Also, he tends to vote against some of their members' pet business projects.

For a long time Carollo and the foundation have argued about who hates communism more. The head of CANF, Jorge Mas Canosa, once challenged Carollo to a duel, but Joe was busy that day.

Back in July, both Carollo and Mas showed up outside the Columbus Hotel to help scare some r.e.t.a.r.ded Cuban teenagers out of town. Both men deserve credit for this brave patriotic gesture.

How does all this relate back to Howard Gary?

Carollo claims-get ready-that his main challenger, Victor DeYurre, is secretly supported by Gary at the guidance of CANF. Herein lies the latest Communist conspiracy.

Gary once served on the board of directors of a bank bought by a drug smuggler, who once said he knew other smugglers were using Cuba in their travels.

The bank must have known, therefore Gary must have known. Therefore, DeYurre must have known. Therefore, DeYurre is obviously a close personal friend of Fidel Castro.

This is the big picture, according to Joe Carollo. People have been inst.i.tutionalized for less.

The only mayoral candidate who's had anything nice to say about Carollo is Arthur Teele, who is a black Republican.

If you took all the black Republicans in South Florida and put them in Joe Robbie Stadium, you'd probably still have about 73,000 empty seats.

Teele has had a tough campaign. In Overtown he doesn't dare mention that he's Republican, while in Little Havana he's handing out pictures of himself with President Reagan.

Howard Gary has figured out that this is nothing but a diabolical scheme to get Maurice Ferre elected.

If none of this makes sense, don't worry-leaders.h.i.+p is an elusive quality. When you go to the voting booth tomorrow, trust your instincts. And try to keep your breakfast down.

A motto for Metro:The check's in the mail September 2, 1988 Next week, Dade voters get to decide who will sit on the Metro-Dade Commission, that body of government (and we use the term loosely) whose task is to chart the future of the county.

This is the year that commissioners have brought new dimensions to the word craven. Zoning fiascoes aside, the sorriest episode was the debate over what to do about County Manager Sergio Pereira-he of the hot suits boutique, the secret land trust, the forgotten $127,000 windfall and other memory lapses.

As a public service, local television stations should rerun the highlights of the commission's Pereira discussions. That way, voters can be reminded of the moral vacuum in which Steve Clark, Clara Oesterle, Bev Phillips and Jim Redford operate so comfortably.

The fact that the county manager was caught in a bald-faced lie about his own finances, the fact that he violated state disclosure laws-no big deal to the commissioners. They blubbered their fealty even as new revelations were forcing Pereira to head for the hills.

Who could be happy with such a vapid bunch? Take a wild guess.

Judging by the weight of their campaign contributions, those who are most delighted by the commissioners' performance are developers, lawyers and bankers.

Because that's who really runs this county government.

They love the status quo. They depend on its mediocrity. The last thing they want on the County Commission are thinkers, leaders and visionaries; they want people who will be manipulated. Puppets.

Take Steve Clark, who has perfected the invisible-mayor form of government. He has raised nearly $500,000 in campaign funds to keep a "job" that pays $6,000 a year.

Here's a man for whom executive action is deciding whether to play a driver or a two-iron off the 17th tee; a man so flummoxed by the Pereira controversy that private lobbyists had to write his comments for him.

Yet builders, developers, contractors, real estate salesmen and architects think so highly of Mayor Clark's leaders.h.i.+p skills that they've given more than $176,000 to help get him re-elected. Lawyers have rewarded the mayor with more than $51,000, while financial interests have coughed up a modest $35,500.

Another inc.u.mbent whose campaign has benefited handsomely from development interests is Commissioner Clara Oesterle. Approximately 45 percent of her $403,000 war chest comes from the folks who are busy turning West Dade into a parking lot.

Having accepted such embarra.s.sing sums from special interests, the commissioners naturally denounce the system as flawed. If only it didn't cost so much to run a political campaign these days, they say, then we wouldn't have to take this money.

If that argument isn't obsequious enough, their next line is enough to choke a goat: We don't go out and solicit these contributions, they say, the checks just come in the mail.

So the half-a-million dollars in campaign moola that Mayor Clark has collected is merely a spontaneous outpouring of public support. Yeah, right. And Elvis is still alive, too.

You can bet that whoever sh.e.l.ls out this kind of dough wants more than a thank-you note in return. When a nest of zoning lawyers and their wives all give the legal limit of $1,000 each to a candidate, they are purchasing influence, pure and simple. And it works.

Developers love the direction that the commission is taking Dade County because that direction is due west, all the way to the Everglades. Rat-warren condos and strip-shopping malls as far as the eye can see. Go look for yourself.

This, and a ghostway transit system, are the twin legacies of this outstanding batch of public servants.

Little will change after Tuesday's election. Voters who choose their commissioners from bus benches and billboards will again be duped, and it's their own fault. At least the developers know enough about basic civics to learn something important about their candidates. Like where to send the checks.

Our own Joe s.h.i.+nes again in Miami race October 2, 1989 Somebody Up There must love newspaper columnists because an amazing thing has happened.

He's baaaaaaack.

Joe Carollo. Popping out of his manhole like a jack-in-the-box. To run for the Miami City Commission again!

Thank you, G.o.d. Things had gotten so dull lately-we needed to be reminded of the bad old days, when city government was a circus and Joe was the head clown. Sure, there's still back-alley politics, but today it's all so tame and...civilized.

In a sick way, we missed Carollo. He was such great copy, guaranteed to say something indefensibly dumb, paranoid or just plain cra.s.s.

Joe claims he's mellowed, but don't bet on it. In this new campaign he's challenging the city's only elected black commissioner, and already Carollo has gone on Spanish-language radio likening his opponent to a common street looter.

Vintage Joe. This is the same sensitive fellow who once compared a black city manager to Idi Amin.

Ah, what memories.

Carollo saw spies and counterspies and Communists everywhere, and claimed to have a dashboard bomb detector in his car. He once offered to tell a Senate committee how Fidel Castro's agents had infiltrated the Miami Police Department.

Another time, Joe torpedoed a big Sister Cities convention planned for Miami after learning that a few of the partic.i.p.ants came from Eastern bloc countries. Reds!

Not that Carollo didn't have a warm spot for some foreign visitors. Miss Universe contestants, for example. Joe nearly tripped over his agenda in a rush to pose for snapshots with visiting beauty queens.

And when Sheik Mohammed al-Fa.s.si and his wealthy entourage blew into town, Joe tagged along like a drooling puppy, offering the key to the city and (not incidentally) the services of his own private security firm. Any normal person would have been embarra.s.sed, but not Joe.

Who can forget that gloriously despicable double cross of Maurice Ferre during the 1983 mayor's race-Ferre, calling a press conference to trumpet Carollo's endors.e.m.e.nt, only to watch Joe trash him mercilessly in front of the a.s.sembled media. Poor old Maurice looked like he'd swallowed a bad clam.

Some politicians can legitimately claim stupidity as an excuse, but not Carollo. His reckless words were unforgivable because he knew exactly what he was doing-appealing to the most primitive of voters' fears and biases. He once said: "Sometimes when people are trying to divert attention, they create ridiculous situations and allegations."

People finally figured out that Joe was talking about himself. By the end of his miserable tenure, he had offended, slandered and nauseated the mult.i.tudes and gained a statewide reputation as a venal backwater McCarthy-or 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.