When I moved from Cleveland for a time in the ’80s, people would ask me what I missed most about the city. I always gave the same answer: “My favorite sport — politics.”
Anyone who witnessed the days of City Council president George Forbes hurling chairs at fellow councilmen, Mayor Ralph Perk publicly lighting his hair on fire or Perk’s wife refusing to attend a White House reception because it was her bowling night, can’t help but love Cleveland politics for what it is: first-rate entertainment.
And, of course, there was Dennis Kucinich, the “mayor of the little people,” as he would say. Every time I heard the moniker, I envisioned myself living in a community of Lilliputians.
We all knew Kucinich didn’t mean little people compared to tall people; he meant little people as compared to big and powerful people.
Dennis disliked no group more than powerful people. He campaigned on the premise that he was going to give power back to the people who deserved it most: the little people.
His strategy was brilliant. By dividing the city into haves and have-nots, he immediately put every person of means on defense. The poor haves didn’t stand a chance. Those who tried to explain why it wasn’t a crime to succeed looked like fools.
In what should be a lesson never to forget, Kucinich’s plan to divide and conquer worked until the conquered were needed to save the city from bankruptcy.
The big people retaliated by pulling the plug on the champion of the little people. On Dec. 15, 1978, Cleveland became the first major city in America to go broke. It taught us there is more success in unity than in divisiveness.
So here we are, 30 years later, having accomplished what no Clevelander ever imagined. We have passed representative government in Cuyahoga County and returned power to the people, not by dividing the community, but by uniting it. One citizen, one vote.
Contrary to most of my friends, I did not vote for county reform to throw the bums out. There are going to be rotten apples in every barrel.
I voted for a government that would give its citizens an opportunity to build a community with a bright future because our previous path only seemed to lead to darkness.
When we started talking about changing county government several years ago, I wasn’t sure how others felt about it. Then I got an opportunity to speak to an East Side chamber of commerce.
Since I wasn’t sure anyone there cared about Cuyahoga County or reform, I jumped right in by saying our government wasn’t a democracy, it was a three-headed dictatorship.
“How many of you believe if you called a commissioner you would get a call back?” I asked.
The room erupted in laughter. “I’m serious, raise your hand if you think you would get a return call.” Sixty people in the room and not one hand went up.
That was the end of the talk and the beginning of an animated discussion about what they wanted from county government. It was simple: They wanted a voice in their future.
Now with 11 districts and 11 representatives, the people of Cuyahoga County will get what they want. But be careful: Our future is in our hands.
So what to do? Representative government is just what it says. To make it work, each one of us must take responsibility for its success. That means getting involved in choosing a council representative most qualified to fulfill the goals of our district and our county. And it means caring enough to stay involved.
Given the fiscal and political issues facing our federal and state governments, county government gives us more opportunity to shape our future than either — moving us from the stands to the sidelines of my favorite sport.
What could possibly be more exciting in the next few years than to help shape your future right here in Cuyahoga County?