After 36 years, will Kucinich’s City Hall portrait debut in 2015?

This could be the year that Cleveland corrects a historic snub. Thirty-six years after he left the office, Dennis Kucinich is the only modern Cleveland mayor who doesn’t have a portrait hanging at City Hall.

Now, an official portrait of him is finally finished, and Kucinich says he's pleased.

“I’m very happy to learn about its completion,” Kucinich tells me. “I appreciate all people who made the effort to bring it about. I look forward to seeing it. If it’s posted at City Hall, I will be very glad to attend an unveiling.”

Artist Matthew Hunt completed his portrait of Kucinich as mayor last year (see my earlier story here). Kucinich says he doesn’t want to judge the portrait based on the photograph on my blog.

“I can’t comment about portrait unless I see it,” Kucinich says. “I don’t think it’d be fair to assess its value.” He says he doesn’t know if it’s up to him to approve or disapprove.

That’s significant, because some supporters are pausing to be sure Kucinich really wants the honor.

When a Cleveland mayor leaves office, the business community usually pays for a formal portrait to hang at City Hall. But the city fathers were in no mood to honor Kucinich, the fiery young populist, when his two tumultuous years as mayor ended in 1979.

So Kucinich is missing from the mayor’s Red Room -- where, during press conferences, legendary former mayor Tom Johnson looks over Mayor Frank Jackson’s shoulder. Recent mayors — Mike White, Jane Campbell, George Voinovich — gaze down from other walls.

In 2002, after Kucinich revived his career and was elected to Congress, supporters set out to right the wrong. City councilman Joe Cimperman and John Ryan, then president of the local AFL-CIO, got then-mayor Campbell to agree to accept a portrait.

Cimperman, Ryan and others held a pierogi and kielbasa fundraiser in Tremont with tickets at $20 a person. Kucinich attended; so did Campbell. (Here’s my coverage of the event.) Hunt won a competition to paint the portrait in 2003.

Then the project stalled. First, it took Kucinich three years to meet with Hunt. Finally, in 2006, Hunt spent a morning observing Kucinich in his Lakewood office and ten minutes photographing him. Then the portrait took Hunt eight years to finish, due to health problems, business setbacks and a flooded house.

Now, the portrait waits in Hunt’s Akron home. The artist is unsure whose job it is to accept the portrait and pay him.

Ryan, now an aide to U.S. Sen. Sherrod Brown, says he’ll get it done. Cleveland Jobs With Justice, a nonprofit he founded, is holding the money in an account just for the portrait, and will pay the artist, Ryan says.

“My guess is, what they have to do is see if there’s a way to get the former congressman and mayor to participate, even if they have to hold it off for a couple months,” Ryan says.

“If he just refuses, well, we’re going to put this darn thing up,” Ryan adds. “I think it should be some kind of event. Mayor Kucinich’s term of office was not just about him, but about the whole town.”

Officially, City Hall is ready to take in Kucinich's likeness. “We would welcome the opportunity to place his portrait here in City Hall,” a spokesperson for mayor Jackson told me.

But Cimperman says Jackson and Harriet Applegate, Ryan’s successor at the AFL-CIO, want to make sure that Kucinich is OK with the portrait going up.

Though no one says so, Kucinich’s Cleveland friends seem to wonder if he is ambivalent about the honor. Ryan says Kucinich accepted the portrait effort “reluctantly” in 2002, and that he “disappointed” some supporters by taking years to meet with the artist. Perhaps being enshrined in an establishment institution like City Hall feels odd to Kucinich, the proud maverick.

The worst-case scenario, Cimperman says, is that the portrait will end up displayed somewhere other than City Hall. He hopes it doesn’t come to that.

“I’m feeling the need to get the portrait closer to the city, closer to the Red Room, where it deserves to be,” Cimperman says. (Though Cimperman challenged Kucinich in the 2008 Democratic primary for Congress, the two have reconciled since, most publicly at a 2011 benefit for Cleveland Public Theater.)

“Like or dislike, support or not support, history is history,” Cimperman says. “This was a person who served as mayor during a fundamental time in the history of Cleveland. The absence of his portrait is conspicuous.

“I think if people saw it, they would recognize it for being a great piece of art and a missing piece in that portion of our history.”

Will Cleveland voters shut down traffic cameras?

It’s the election’s sleeper issue: Cleveland’s traffic cameras. For nine years they’ve watched over major intersections and avenues, snapping photos of drivers’ license plates when they detect a speeder or a red-light-runner.

Tomorrow, Cleveland residents will decide whether to shut them off.

To supporters of Issue 35, which would effectively end the city’s traffic camera program, Election Day is the citizen’s chance to fight back against an unfair system and a government trying to raise cash. An anti-camera Facebook page has posted a picture of Mayor Frank Jackson, altered to show glowing dollar signs in his eyes. Jackson has warned that he’ll have to cut $6 million from the city budget if the cameras are shut down.

“If the mayor and council was concerned about safety rather than revenue, they probably would have looked at safety data sometime in last nine years while the cameras have been up,” argues petition drive organizer Jason Sonenshein. “They haven’t compiled that data.”

Issue 35’s backers spent four years gathering petition signatures for their proposed charter amendment. A yes vote would ban photo traffic enforcement in Cleveland unless a police officer is on the scene and personally issues the ticket. (That would reduce the cameras to expensive alternatives to radar guns.) A no vote on Issue 35 would preserve the camera program.

“I’m mostly concerned about the lack of due process with camera tickets,” says Sonenshein. “They ticket the owner, not necessarily the driver. If you weren’t driving, it’s up to you to prove your innocence, rather than up to the government to prove you’re guilty.”

Camera tickets can be appealed, and Cleveland Magazine recently found that about half of appeals result in a dismissal or reduced fine. But Sonenshein says only four percent of ticketed motorists appeal. "A lot of people can’t afford to take off work," he says. Hearing officers aren’t neutral, he complains, because they’re employed by the city, not a court.

The mayor and various city councilpeople, including council president Kevin Kelley, oppose Issue 35. Councilman Brian Cummins has posted arguments for keeping the cameras on his website. He and others argue that the cameras deter residents from speeding, that most of them are deployed in high-crash areas, and that they free police officers to combat violent crime. Bike Cleveland, the cycling advocacy group, also opposes Issue 35, arguing that the cameras help keep cyclists and pedestrians safe by slowing down car traffic.

I asked Sonenshein to answer the safety arguments, including the point on Cummins' website that pedestrians are likely to survive a collision with a car driving 20 mph, but likely to die if hit by a car going 40.

“There are lots of ways to improve the safety of the streets without raising the risk of punishing innocent people,” Sonenshein says, suggesting narrower traffic lanes and longer yellow lights. He also says the city hasn’t done a thorough study of the camera’s effects, and that a national study that claims traffic cameras reduce fatal crashes by 24 percent is flawed.

The camera debate cuts across the usual political divides. Sonenshein and several other petition organizers have a libertarian bent.  (Sonenshein's anti-camera PAC is called Liberate Ohio. He says it's spent about $1,300.) Councilmen Jeff Johnson and Zack Reed, usually allies, are on opposite sides of this issue. Johnson has defended the cameras, saying neighborhood groups often request them. Reed says he's become convinced the camera program is really about revenue, not safety. Most of council has long supported the cameras, but Joe Cimperman has voted against them, arguing they lead to rear-end collisions.

After 35 years, Dennis Kucinich’s City Hall portrait is finished at last

Matthew Hunt pauses before the reveal. From an easel, he lifts his painting of a young woman looking over her nude shoulder. Behind it stands a portrait Cleveland has awaited for 35 years.

Dennis Kucinich, his hair still black, looks to one side, his eyes narrowed into a thoughtful squint, serious and enigmatic.

“I was hired to go in and try to find the person behind the name and TV interviews, the stuff that everybody knows,” says Hunt.

When Kucinich was voted out of the mayor’s office in 1979, no one commissioned the traditional City Hall portrait. Moneyed civic leaders, aghast at Kucinich’s confrontational two years as mayor, wanted to forget him.

“I wanted a more quiet side,” says Hunt. “Especially because this was such a wrong that was done. I felt that I had a responsibility to try to make it right.”

In 2002, a new generation tried to correct the snub. Then-mayor Jane Campbell, city councilman Joe Cimperman and labor leaders threw a $20 kielbasa and pierogi fundraiser in a church hall in Tremont. The party raised about $12,000.

Then? Silence, delays, small occasional updates in The Plain Dealer’s “Whatever Happened To” feature.

Now, 12 years later, the portrait is finished.

Hunt, 42, won a contest to paint it in 2003. “They said [Kucinich] saw my work, and he really loved it,” he says.

Self-taught, Hunt began painting in 1998 and debuted with a show that year at the McCormick Place gallery in Hudson. He has a gift for painting realistic, psychologically profound depictions of people that invite the question, what is he or she thinking?

Paid a $7,250 advance to paint Kucinich, Hunt tried for three years to meet his subject. First, the then-congressman’s 2004 campaign for president got in the way. Then his office cancelled a post-election photo shoot in Washington. A year later, Kucinich called Hunt to say he’d make it happen. At last, in September 2006, Hunt spent a morning observing Kucinich at his Lakewood office.

“He would look down when thinking about something,” Hunt recalls. “He would hold his left hand to his head, but he would do this sort of squinting. It was really warm the way he did it, but it was very sincere, and it wasn’t for anyone else.”

Hunt watched Kucinich during a press conference and a meeting with aides and spent ten minutes taking reference photos of him. He headed back to his home studio in Copley, that look on Kucinich’s face still in his mind.

It took Hunt seven years to paint it. “I own the fact that it’s taken as long as it has,” he says.

At first, Hunt’s other work took precedence. Commissions rained down. Parents hired him to paint their children, companies their CEOs, universities their administrators.

Then, three setbacks brought Hunt’s work to a halt. He was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes; when it was uncontrolled, his painting hand shook. His basement studio flooded, destroying much of his work. The financial crisis hit, and clients cancelled and retreated.

Now, Hunt has recovered. A sharp doctor helps keep his health troubles in check. “I’m able to work now the way I was,” he says. Jobs are flowing to him again. He recently accepted a commission to paint retired Lincoln Electric CEO John Stropki.

He also turned back to Kucinich. He collected ’70s photos to re-create how Kucinich looked in his early 30s. He studied ’70s suits and tie patterns to paint wide lapels and a diagonally-striped tie.

Thinking hard about Kucinich’s two years as mayor, he decided to add no symbolic props -- concerned that a hint of, say, the Muni Light battle might reduce his subject’s work to a single accomplishment.

Instead, Hunt depicted Kucinich in the mayor’s office, sitting on the edge of a bare desk. The viewer looks on from just above him, an unusual perspective meant to evoke Kucinich's populism. “I don’t think he has the need to be above anyone,” Hunt says.

Kucinich’s interlocked hands rest in the foreground, a symbol of him “bringing together people and different sides, and the struggle that he had,” Hunt says. (That’s a generous interpretation of Kucinich’s mayoralty, commonly criticized as divisive.)

Hunt worked hardest at Kucinich’s face, especially his mouth, which is caught between a slight smile and a hint of satisfaction.

“I didn’t want to have a degree of defeat or worry,” Hunt says. “I wanted to convey someone who was in charge, but someone who was taking the issues very seriously. He might be young, but he’s not a boy.”

Hunt painted the final brushstroke about six months ago. He plans to take it to Cleveland’s Bonfoey Gallery for framing.

When will the public see it? That’s unclear. Hunt’s not sure what’s next, because “there’s no client,” he says.

A portrait committee, made up of representatives of two unions and the Community Partnership for Arts and Culture, owes him a second payment of $7,250 if the portrait is accepted. But whose job is it to accept the painting? The committee? Mayor Frank Jackson? Kucinich himself?

The long wait for Kucinich to join the pantheon of mayors is subtly symbolized in the painting itself. In 2006, Hunt noticed that Kucinich wore his watch upside down -- clasp up, face downward. He painted it that way. The clasp is just barely visible under his sleeve. “Time did sort of get flipped,” Hunt says.

Cimperman, Turner to perform in marriage equality play ‘8’

How's this for dramatic timing? Just as the U.S. Supreme Court gets ready to rule on gay-marriage cases, two Cleveland political leaders and several theater groups are seizing the moment.

Joe Cimperman and Nina Turner join a cast of actors next Sunday, June 30, to perform 8, a documentary play about the trial over California’s gay-marriage ban.

The one-night show will take place a few days after the U.S. Supreme Court's ruling on California's Proposition 8, which is expected next week or this Thursday.

The show is a staged reading, so the actors will read from scripts. But it’s a courtroom drama, so perhaps the actors will just come off like lawyers consulting their notes. The play is based on the transcripts from the 2010 trial, interviews and observations of the arguments. It’s written by Dustin Lance Black, an Oscar-winning screenwriter who wrote Milk and J. Edgar.

Cimperman, the longtime Cleveland city councilman, and Turner, the high-profile state senator and likely candidate for secretary of state, will be part of a 21-person cast that will also include local actors and leaders of various nonprofit organizations.

No word yet on who will play key roles, including the two couples fighting for the right to marry or super-lawyers Ted Olson and David Boies, who battled in Bush vs. Gore but formed a conservative-liberal dream team to fight the law.

After the performance, City Club CEO Dan Moulthrop will moderate a debate between two gay-marriage advocates and Rev. Jimmie Hicks, who was voted off the Cleveland Heights City Council after opposing the city’s domestic partnership registry. You’ve got to give him credit for showing up. This’ll be a tough crowd for him.

8 plays at 5 pm on Sunday, June 30 at the Allen Theatre in PlayhouseSquare. Tickets, which benefit the Cleveland chapter of PFLAG and the pro-gay-marriage American Foundation for Equal Rights, are $25. 

Update, 6/30: Peter Lawson Jones, the actor and former Cuyahoga County commissioner, played Olson. Turner wasn't in the cast after all, though she appeared in a recorded video shown before the play. 

Cimperman played an expert witness in the case. So did state Rep. Nickie Antonio of Lakewood, Ohio's first openly gay state legislator.  Her character's dialogue with an attorney sparked laughter in the audience. The attorney asked her if gays and lesbians are under-represented in elected office. "Yes," she replied.

'What do I stand for?' City council's terrible week

Last Tuesday, the day after Cleveland City Council voted to un-retire colleague Ken Johnson and enable his double-dip, cleveland.com flashed this headine:

Cleveland City Council President Martin J. Sweeney comes up in FBI's Forlani wiretap

Two hours later, Councilman Joe Cimperman tweeted this:

I followed Cimperman's link to the lyrics of "Some Nights" by Fun -- an angsty pop hit that, in my fevered imagination, became a councilman's tormented lament at being strong-armed into a taxpayer-wrath-inducing vote by a council president whose links to corruption defendants keep embarrassing City Hall:
 

Oh, Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for oh
What do I stand for? What do I stand for?
Most nights I don't know anymore
Oh, whoa, oh, whoa, oh, whoa, oh, oh...

So this is it. I sold my soul for this?
Washed my hands of that for this?
I miss my mom and dad for this?

"Rough week to be a Cleveland city councilman, judging by these lyrics," I retweeted.

Cimperman, the tweetiest pol in town, answered in a half-hour. In 140 characters, he managed to explain that he'd actually spent the evening at a meeting about the Inner Belt in Tremont, which reminded him of how Tremont had been home to a Civil War camp, which reminded him of the video to "Some Nights":


It does have a very Civil-War Gothic vibe. And considering Cimperman's manic, beatific Twitter feed, regularly filled with Jesuit mysticism and patriotic rapture, his wild explanation actually makes sense.

So it's all me.  I was just imagining how a councilman ought to feel after walking the double-dip plank for Martin Sweeney.

 ==

Cleveland City Council is an ancient, self-absorbed institution with peculiar rules even more undemocratic than a U.S. Senate filibuster.  Sweeney, the council president, drove those rules to a new low last week.

Follow me, now: A city councilman "in good standing" can appoint his successor.  Decisions about council membership are subject to the "unit rule," which requires everyone in a legislative caucus or convention delegation to show support for the majority's decision.

Then last week, the "right" to name your successor became Ken Johnson's "right" to retire and reappoint himself, and collect a pension and a salary at the same time, and preserve cost-of-living pension increases that won't apply to future retirees, and have all of city council approve his double dip. All 19 city council members caucus with the Democrats, so Sweeney expected the vote to be unanimous.

Some councilpeople really, truly disagree with the idea that government pensions should go to public employees who've, you know, stopped working. City councilpeople are all public employees, see. They're outraged that the state changed the pension rules so quickly on Johnson, and on them. Fairness to their own tribe preoccupies them. Fairness to taxpayers, not so much.

Others, like Cimperman, voted reluctantly for Johnson's double-dip, fearing Sweeney's punishments, including hostile gerrymandering. Ward lines are being redrawn to eliminate two councilpeople this year.  So the no voters on Johnson's double-dip -- Dona Brady, Brian Cummins, and Mike Polensek (a double-dipper himself) are now the most likely to lose council's game of musical chairs.

Watching this all happen, I marvel at Sweeney's continued ability to whip votes and hold onto his job as council president.  To an outsider, he hardly looks like a strong leader.  New City Hall initiatives seem to come from Mayor Frank Jackson or from creative councilmen such as Cimperman or Matt Zone. And Sweeney's name keeps coming up a little too often for comfort in prosecutors' accounts of the Cuyahoga County corruption scandal.

 ==

Last week in court, the feds played a five-year-old wiretap of crooked contractor Michael Forlani claiming he'd funneled $20,000 to Sweeney's Council Leadership Fund. Forlani cynically calculated that the cash might've bought him several votes.

The council leadership fund is another tool a council president uses to reward allies and punish enemies. Its funds are dispersed to loyal councilpeople running for re-election.  Forlani may have been talking out of his ass, bragging about juice he didn't really have -- but it's at least plausible that a contractor could buy influence and legislation by contributing to the council leadership fund. It would work if (I'm talking theoretically here) the contractor had a council president willing to twist arms on his behalf. And if the money was passed through intermediaries, regular councilpeople might not even know why they were being told to vote a certain way. Their votes could be effectively bought without them knowing it.

So if I were a councilperson, the insinuation dropped by Forlani in that wiretap would infuriate me.  I would want to hear an explanation from Sweeney, a straight denial that Forlani had arranged with him for donations to the fund in exchange for any sort of understanding.  Instead, Sweeney's been very tight with his no-comments.

Sweeney's name has come up in federal subpoenas. It came up a few times at last year's Jimmy Dimora trial. In one wiretap, Sweeney told Dimora he'd helped answer Ferris Kleem's questions about an airport contract. (Kleem was one of the underwriters of Dimora's famed Vegas romp.) Sweeney made a mysterious appearance in the Dimora case closing argument, when the prosecutors included him in a 20-person pyramid of key players.  Most entertainingly, J. Kevin Kelley testified that Dimora's cronies considered Sweeney part of their "B Team," but not their "A Team."

After all that, it's easy to wonder how Sweeney manages to hold onto the council presidency.  Once-mighty politicians such as Bill Mason and Dean DePiero have seen their careers cut short by peripheral connections to the scandal, but Sweeney's presidency motors along.  One outraged local writer wants us to sign a petition calling on Sweeney to step down until his name is cleared.

There's just one problem: Cleared how?  Cleared of what?  No one can quite say.  Sweeney hasn't been accused or implicated in any wrongdoing.  Watchdogging the powerful is important, but so is avoiding guilt by association. [Update, 1/17: The petition has been rewritten to call for an ethics investigation, and for Sweeney to recuse himself from voting on contracts until it's finished.]

Forlani's brag could be based on a misunderstanding. Contractor Steve Pumper testified last week that Forlani was trying to help Pumper resolve a court case of his, but the settlement didn't actually need council's approval.  Sweeney's calls on Kleem's behalf may have just helped Kleem navigate red tape without anything in return ("You can take credit," Sweeney tells Dimora on the wiretap). Even being dubbed a member of Dimora's "B Team" may be a character witness of sorts -- yeah, we hung out with the guy, but we didn't share the take with him.

Just because Sweeney is the feds' Public Official 7 doesn't mean he did anything wrong.  Those code numbers are meant to protect the unindicted, not brand them.  To see the problem, consider Public Official 14, Ed FitzGerald.

 ==

Last week, an FBI agent mentioned FitzGerald, too, as a recipient of funneled Forlani money.  Suddenly, just as FitzGerald was ramping up to run for governor, he faced a serious threat: a campaign contribution in the name of a guy he says he didn't even know.  Rather than let a stray mention shake up a governor's race, chief corruption prosecutor Ann Rowland issued an unusual public exoneration:

Ed FitzGerald is not a target of the investigation... We have no evidence Ed FitzGerald knew Michael Forlani had anything to do with these contributions.

Rowland did not extend the same courtesy to Sweeney.  Does that mean something?  Or was the agent's mention of FitzGerald (himself a former FBI agent) simply an especially out-of-control example of several careless, career-damaging name-drops flying off the edges of the corruption investigation?

If the feds had something on Sweeney, they'd likely have charged him by now.  Their investigation focused on 2008, and it's 2013.  The statute of limitations, five years for the major federal corruption law, is about to run out.

 ==

Still, there's corruption, then there's bad government.  Federal prosecutors' sentencing memo for Forlani reused a classic quote from convicted former councilwoman Sabra Pierce Scott, who pleaded guilty to taking bribes to help Forlani with the VA expansion project in University Circle.

At a 2006 council committee meeting, Zack Reed questioned whether the VA project was using enough minority workers. Pierce Scott responded with this gem:

How dare you use your own approach to question a project in my ward without having a discussion with me first. You are out of line. And you will not continue to come to this table and get in other people’s ward business. I do not appreciate it and if you’ve got a problem with this project you should have said something to me. You have no right to sit here and question them. You don’t understand what it takes to get this done. And you’re wrong. I don’t appreciate it. And you’re not going to sit here and build a reputation off of me. I don’t mess with your projects and don’t you mess with mine.

The feds quoted Pierce Scott's attack because it was bought and paid for by Forlani's protection money.  But Pierce Scott was actually explaining the regular rules of business at Cleveland City Council. Her tongue-lashing of Reed was part of a hallowed council tradition.

The late Fannie Lewis once did the same to Cimperman, calling him a "judas goat" for questioning a building project in Hough. Daring to ask a policy question about a project in someone else's ward is an outrage in city council's arcane, undemocratic world.

Those old, unwritten rules are the real reason to hope for a change in leadership at city council.  When is someone going to open those creaky, cobwebbed windows and let some sunlight in?

Music clubs tax cut passes 19-0; 'big breakthrough,' says Beachland owner

The tweet hit my iPhone just before last night's Cloud Nothings and Herzog Rock Hall show: After a year of protest and lobbying by music fans, Cleveland City Council has slashed the admissions tax for small concert clubs.

Cleveland's 8 percent tax on ticket sales will be eliminated for music clubs that hold 150 people or less. It'll be cut in half for clubs that hold 151 to 750.

"It's a big breakthrough," said Beachland Ballroom owner Cindy Barber, who was at the Rock Hall's summer show in the plaza last night, looking happy and relieved. The tax cut will be a huge help for the Beachland, she said: its tavern holds 148 people, its ballroom 500.

The 19-0 vote breaks an impasse between the clubs and Mayor Frank Jackson, who started collecting the once-forgotten tax in 2009 and didn't want to give it up.

But city councilpeople are music fans too, it turns out.

"Everybody on council was talking about sneaking into the Agora underage," Barber said. "It was priceless."

Key to the compromise was city council president Martin Sweeney. Barber says Sweeney announced the two-tiered tax cut idea in Plain Dealer editorial writer Chris Evans' Tuesday column, after Evans put him on the spot with a phone call. The pen still has some power in Cleveland, it seems.

The Beachland and Peabody's still need to work out an agreement with City Hall over back taxes they didn't collect. The Beachland's tax bill stands at $400,000, about half of it penalties and interest.  Sweeney wants to work out a compromise on that too, Barber says.

Politically, the tax cut is significant because it's one of the few times City Council has defied Jackson during his 6 1/2 years as mayor.  The 19-0 vote is veto-proof.

Sweeney, normally a supporter of Jackson's agenda, gave the mayor some of what he wanted (the tax isn't gone). But he made Cleveland's clubs more competitive with those in Lakewood and Columbus (no tax) and Cleveland Heights (3 percent).

The tax cut will also boost the hipster cred of Joe Cimperman, Matt Zone, Jay Westbrook, and Mike Polensek, the four councilmen who sponsored admissions-tax legislation last year to support the clubs in their wards. "Thank you @clecitycouncil Marty Sweeney for this legislation passing common sense music venue taxes!" Cimperman tweeted triumphantly yesterday.

Update, 7/18: Roldo Bartimole, who has an elephant's memory about the city's tax earmarks, points out that the admissions tax went to 8 percent from 6 percent in the 1990s to help pay for Cleveland Browns Stadium.  He defends the new tax cut, arguing that small music clubs shouldn't subsidize stadium bonds.  (To read him, click here and scroll down to "Can We Remember What We Did Now That It Hurts.")

Legislature nixes Cleveland's trans-fat ban

Ohio lawmakers crammed a bunch of stuff into the new state budget, including this: They've overturned Cleveland's ban on trans fats in restaurant food.

City council passed the trans-fat ban in April, arguing that the industrially produced fats are especially bad for people's health. (Here's my blog post about chatting with Matt Zone about the law the night it passed.) It was supposed to go into effect in 2013.

But the Ohio Restaurant Association immediately asked the legislature to step in. They don't like the city law's documentation and reporting requirements. They want one set of restaurant regulations for the whole state, not a bunch of local laws. So the new law gives all power to regulate nutrition in Ohio restaurants to the state Department of Agriculture.

Rick Cassara, owner of John Q's Steakhouse on Public Square, told the Columbus Dispatch he's against cumbersome regulations of restaurants. "I do have a problem when it gets too much into telling us what we should and shouldn't serve or telling the consumer what they should and shouldn't eat," he said.

Joe Cimperman, who sponsored the ban, is furious. "This is an absolute affront," he told the Dispatch. He says Cleveland will sue to defend the ban. He thinks protecting citizens' health is part of a city's home rule powers.

But lawsuits to defend home rule in Ohio have been failing lately. The state has overturned Cleveland's predatory lending law and its residency requirement for city employees, just to name two. What are the odds a food law will survive?

City council legalizes food trucks, bans trans fats on Dyngus Day

I was out at the Happy Dog last night, celebrating Dyngus Day and pretending to be Polish, when I ran into Matt Zone. He was relaxing with a Dortmunder after an evening at City Hall, where he and the rest of city council had just legalized food trucks and banned trans fats.* Zone seemed pretty happy with the night’s work.

Under pressure from Dim and Den Sum’s Chris Hodgson and other food truckers, Zone, Joe Cimperman, and other councilmen had pushed the mobile-food ordinance through a bunch of committees and made it more liberal than its first draft. The trucks will roll through 3 a.m. at night to catch the last-call crowd. They’ll hit six downtown zones – East Ninth Street, part of Public Square, Perk Plaza, Willard Park (near City Hall), North Coast Harbor, and Euclid Avenue near Cleveland State University.

Outside downtown, in typical City Hall fashion, councilmen will have veto power over whether food trucks can go into their wards. The legislation lasts only six months. Cimperman told Fox 8 he thinks the legislation will grow weaker in November (after restaurants and hot-dog vendors get a chance to complain, I assume). But Zone said he’s confident concerns will melt away once the law takes effect, like they did with the city’s ordinance legalizing chicken farms and beekeeping.

Council also passed two laws as part of the Healthy Cleveland initiative: new restrictions on smoking on city property and a ban on industrial trans fats.*

I had just downed a pierogi-topped hot dog drenched in purple, pickled sauerkraut, a reminder that lots of people think dietary laws aren’t a great fit for ethnic Cleveland. But Zone confirmed that banning trans fats just means getting rid of artificially hydrogenated oils.

Zone and others pushed for a more gradual implementation of the trans fat ban. It’ll go into effect in January 2013, not 2012, with doughnuts grandfathered in until July 2013. That gives the health department time to put the word out, Zone said. “We don’t want to be the heavy-handed government,” he explained.

Smoking will be prohibited in parks, recreation areas, and within 150 feet of city-owned buildings. Other potential restrictions, including an ironic ban on smoking in cemeteries, were dropped. “If somebody’s mourning, they absolutely should have every right, if they’re a smoker, to relieve their pain and their stress,” Zone said.

*Update, 7/8: The state legislature has prohibited cities from regulating restaurant menus, killing Cleveland's trans-fat ban. See my new post.

Cimperman to introduce domestic-partner benefits ordinance

Cleveland may soon extend health-care benefits to city employees’ unmarried domestic partners. Councilman Joe Cimperman says he’s going to introduce an ordinance to do so this month, possibly Monday.

“We’re a human-rights city,” Cimperman says. “This continues that legacy.”

It'd be another step in City Hall’s drive to promote Cleveland as gay-friendly. City council approved a registry for domestic partners in 2008, banned discrimination against the transgendered in 2009, and worked successfully to attract the 2014 Gay Games. The gay magazine The Advocate named Cleveland the 12th Gayest City in America this February. “This is just one more aspect of Cleveland showing its best,” Cimperman says.

The legislation isn’t just for gays, he notes. City employees who choose not to marry for practical reasons, such as child custody arrangements, could also share their health insurance with their partners.

That’s one of the downtown councilman’s selling points as he works to avoid a repeat of the divisive fight over the partner registry. It passed 13-7 after attracting the opposition of some prominent black ministers.

This time, at the urging of council president Martin Sweeney, the benefits ordinance is being drafted in consultation with a committee that includes two local ministers, including C. Jay Matthews of Mt. Sinai Baptist Church, who opposed the registry.

“Part of the reason the council president asked for ministers to be involved is, last time they weren’t, and they felt really left out,” Cimperman says. Matthews “hasn’t seen the final draft,” he adds, “but he’s been at meetings. His response was, it’s the right thing to do.”

The ordinance would make Cleveland the third Ohio city to offer domestic-partner benefits, along with Cleveland Heights and Columbus.

“Some people might vote against it on financial reasons,” Cimperman says. But he argues that cities from Cleveland Heights to Chicago have found partner benefits aren’t a drain on finances. “It’s a plus in recruiting people to work there.”

Cimperman also wants to make the city’s anti-discrimination laws enforceable by civil lawsuits. The 1989 ordinances made discrimination in employment, housing and public accommodations a criminal offense — an attempt to be tough on bigots that can actually make the law harder to enforce, Cimperman says. “Are you going to call 9-1-1 because someone at a restaurant said the N-word and they’re not going to serve you?”

Allowing anti-discrimination lawsuits in Cleveland will especially benefit gays, since state and federal civil rights laws do not protect them.

Making Cleveland gay-friendly is a natural evolution of the city’s legacy of strong support for civil rights, Cimperman argues. “We’re lucky to have people who were champions in many different areas of human rights: civil rights for African-Americans, women’s rights, labor rights. I really think it’s one more aspect of our DNA."

Urban Outfitter: my profile of Ann Zoller

Ann Zoller, executive director of ParkWorks, has taken her nonprofit far beyond trees and flowers. She believes creating exciting public spaces is not just about carefree recreation — it’s a key to making Cleveland a place more people want to live. She wants to guide downtown’s landmark public spaces from the dull, gray present to a spring-like rebirth.

Zoller, more than anyone else, is responsible for this summer's rebuilding of Perk Plaza, site of a shocking 2009 murder, as a safer, more welcoming park. She’s also helping the Medical Mart developer redesign the century-old downtown malls. Even more ambitious, ParkWorks and the Downtown Cleveland Alliance want to radically remake Public Square into a destination as inspiring as the best urban parks in the country, possibly even by building a giant hill right over Superior Avenue and Ontario Street.

That’s why I profiled Zoller in “Urban Outfitter,” my feature in the June issue of Cleveland Magazine.

Zoller's political savvy helps her get things done. The former Mike White aide enjoys a solid partnership with the Jackson Administration (though that doesn't necessarily mean the mayor will fund a radically remade Public Square). And she's emerging as a key ally of influential younger politicians, such as Joe Cimperman and Chris Ronayne, who are trying to put their optimistic stamp on the city.

“For some people, a plan is the world,” says Cimperman. “They just love to plan. For Ann, the plan is just a means of getting something done.”

(To read my profile of Zoller, click here. You can link to it with this shortcut: tinyurl.com/CMZoller.)

Med Mart won't be on Mall bluff

Looks like the crisis with the Medical Mart project is over. Developer MMPI has abandoned its controversial proposal to build the Mart on Mall C, the bluff overlooking the lake. It's ready to build on St. Clair Avenue again, now that negotiations for the land are making progress. Groundbreaking could happen by October.

That's the news from the county commissioners' meeting this morning. Laura Johnston has the details on the Plain Dealer's new Cuyahoga County Insider blog, and so does Tom Beres on wkyc.com.

Also announced today is a new construction agreement between the county and MMPI, detailing some rules and oversight the developer will follow while building the publicly financed Mart and convention center. It also describes how MMPI is using the $333,333 a month construction manager's fee from the county. That fee has been widely criticized, especially this fall, when the project stalled.

Most everyone who wants the Medical Mart built will be relieved to know the Mart plans have returned to the St. Clair site. Civic-minded fans of the downtown Mall will be happy too. Lots of opposition flared up to the idea of messing with Daniel Burnham's famous downtown plan by building the Mart on public parkland.

It also bypasses a political standoff between Cleveland City Hall and MMPI. Mayor Frank Jackson and city council were furious that MMPI made its case for building on the Mall by releasing its list of expensive problems it found in Public Auditorium. City officials demanded that MMPI help fix up the aging building as a sort of payback for having publicized its problems -- a weird argument that came pretty close to shooting the messenger.

There's still plenty of fallout from the November dust-up. Jackson and council will probably still make it hard for MMPI to finalize the purchase of the current convention center site -- they'll ask, rightly, what the plan is for separating it from Public Hall. Later, MMPI will need the city's approval for its building plans.

The November debate also may have affected Joe Cimperman's standing in City Hall. One reason he's fallen out with council president Martin Sweeney is his solo move to get MMPI to attend public meetings about the Mart, the PD's City Hall blog reports.

Dropping Public Auditorium from the plans still means Cleveland's Medical Mart loses its "first mover" advantage. MMPI originally planned to set up medical showrooms in the building this year, as a way of beating proposed New York and Nashville medical marts to market. Now it's a sprint to see who can open first. That's why Peter Lawson Jones quipped, "Take that, Nashville," as he approved the construction agreement today. (Meanwhile, the New York developers tried to speed up their project today by announcing they'll scale it back and lease a mart site, not build new.)

But the big news is, Cleveland's Med Mart is back on track, Cleveland City Hall recedes as a player, and the county has reasserted itself as MMPI's main partner. The county stepped up negotiations with the owners of the office building and parking garage across from the Key Marriott (see this Dec. 24 PD article), and those talks sound close to bearing fruit.

Administrators even have a plan to deal with the last holdout on St. Clair. They are thinking of seizing the last property, the Sportsman's Restaurant, by eminent domain -- not to hand over to MMPI, a move that could be challenged in court, but for a county park right next to the Med Mart site! Clever. Update, 1/8: This print-edition PD story says negotiations with the Sportsman are going well. So odds are, the county won't need eminent domain.

To read my article on the Medical Mart project from the June 2009 issue of Inside Business, click here.

Issue 5 vs. 6: the reform duel gets nasty

It's 26 days before Cuyahoga County chooses among the dueling reform plans, and the fight has gotten nasty.

The huge Plain Dealer headline today started the brawl: "Issue 5 supporters call on Mason to return donations." Bill Mason, Issue 6 co-architect and the only county official whose job wouldn't be wiped out by his ballot proposal, got $102,000 in contributions from his own employees over the last five years.

The Issue 5 people want him to return it all. They're also arguing that 6 should be shot down because it doesn't include campaign finance reform that makes it illegal for county officials to get employee donations.

"He's put together a plan that essentially fosters corruption," Issue 5 spokesman Brian Wright tells the PD.

False: it only leaves the same campaign finance rules in place. {Update, 11/1: I originally wrote that we don't know if we'll get campaign finance reform if 5 passes either. Still technically correct, but most of the pro-5 Real Reform Done Right charter commission slate has since said they'd include it in a new charter.}

But the 5 supporters' attack is shrewd. It puts the spotlight on Mason, an aspiring reformer, yet someone known for embracing some old-school political tactics.

Mason fought back. He asked whether Issue 5 supporters Jim Rokakis, Peter Lawson Jones, Frank Jackson and Marcia Fudge will return their donations from employees.

Oops: Rokakis doesn't take any. Fudge can't, by law, and didn't when she was a mayor -- she fired off a press release saying so this afternoon. {Update, 10/9: The PD's story says Jackson got only $150 from city employees last year. Jones has taken $13,000 from county workers in two years. "You have to balance employees' First Amendment rights with not putting them in a position where they feel pressured to give," Jones says.}

An hour ago, the 6 campaign struck back, with Martin Zanotti, Joe Cimperman, and Nina Turner all offering scathing quotes. Since it's not online, I'll paste it below.

By "lie and smears," I'm guessing Zanotti means the false argument I mentioned above, though Mason's employees' (legal) contributions are a matter of record.

Also, I picked up a flyer today from an Issue 5 supporter. That's the front side of it at the top of this post. Here's the other side:



It's intended for union members -- hence its claim that Issue 6 is the "big business/Republican reform plan," though the 6 effort also includes many prominent Democrats. Also, it's funny how it uses a Plain Dealer quote to make 6 sound bad -- when the paper's editorial page is very pro-6.

Dueling reforms? This is no gentlemanly contest: it's a bare-fisted brawl.

==
Press release from Issue 6 campaign:
--
County politicians will say anything to stop real reform

Blasting back against the rank hypocrisy and unfounded slurs against County Prosecutor and Issue 6 co-chair Bill Mason, other Issue 6 co-chairs called on Issue 5 supporters to admit their role in causing the crisis that makes real county reform a necessity.

“The lie and smears coming from the Issue 5 campaign are really stunning, and the voters of Cuyahoga County aren’t going to buy what they’re selling,” said Parma Hts. Mayor and Issue 6 co-chair Marty Zanotti. “Why are they going after County Prosecutor Mason? It’s simple: because he’s actually standing up for real reform. Why didn’t they ask for donation returns from themselves? Dimora, Russo, Hagan, and Jones are the reason we need reform in the first place.”

“We’ve seen this all before,” continued Zanotti. “Reform has been debated and killed for decades in this county. Entrenched political interests refuse to give up their fiefdoms. This flailing by the Issue 5 campaign is just meant to confuse voters, just like Issue 5 itself is meant to confuse voters. When they are really scared, they start with the personal attacks, as we’ve now seen with their attempts to discredit Prosecutor Mason. He’s tough enough to stand up to them, and county voters are smart enough not to fall for their lies and tricks.”

Cleveland City Councilman and Issue 6 co-chair Joe Cimperman said, “Issue 6 means real reform, real checks and balances, and a real chance to turn our county around. Our opponents are trying everything they can to derail real reform. More than 50,000 signed a petition to put Issue 6 on the ballot. We won’t rest until county residents know that that the way to real reform is No on 5, Yes on 6.”

State Senator and Issue 6 co-chair Nina Turner said, “Don’t be fooled: this is the last gasp of a dying political cabal clinging to its final breath. It won’t work. Cuyahoga County residents are sick of the crime, corruption, and cronyism of the past. We all deserve better, and we aim to get it with Issue 6. This is our golden hour – the point where we have a real chance to enact change in this county. We need to take advantage of this chance and pass Issue 6.”

Mansfield Frazier & Scene on Cleveland's domestic partnership rally

Mansfield Frazier writes in the new CoolCleveland about speaking at last week's domestic partnership rally at City Hall. It's a great piece about his moment of conscience. He walks past two friends who assume he's not going to the rally and are taken aback when he is. In his speech, Frazier talks about Bayard Rustin, a strategist for the civil-rights movement who had to work behind the scenes because he was gay. Also, Frazier cleverly quotes Bob Dylan for the second time in two weeks.

Dan Harkins of Scene covered the rally and collected some great quotes. Zack Reed, a domestic-partner registry opponent, offers an elliptical comment about why he invited the ministers to City Hall on the same day. Joe Cimperman channels Harvey Milk and demands that intolerance, not gays, be cast into the closet. Peter Lawson Jones happens by and lends support.

(Mansfield Frazier photo from CoolCleveland.com)

Council cash

Local pols have filed their 2008 campaign finance reports, and Henry Gomez has dug through Cleveland City Council's at his City Hall blog.

Highlights: Martin Sweeney has $313,000 in the fund he controls as council president and $141,000 in his own campaign fund (as of Jan. 1). No wonder the coup plot against him failed. His rival Matt Zone has $19,500.

Joe Cimperman collected $53,000 at a September fundraiser. Dona Brady has $103,000 (what's she going to do with it?). Zack Reed "spent more than $10,000 on other campaigns, cell phone bills and hotel rooms for conferences."

Meanwhile, Mayor Frank Jackson has a $633,000 war chest, just in case anyone decides to run against him.

More on the mayor's race

Picking up on my post about the mayoral race, Henry Gomez at cleveland.com drops a few more names of possible Frank Jackson challengers, including former city tech czar Michael DeAloia and councilmen Mike Polensek and Zack Reed (I will bet that Polensek and Reed won't run, but we'll see). Gomez also pointed out something I should have mentioned: Joe Cimperman is a political ally of Jackson's -- another reason Cimperman won't run.

In that previous post, I wrote that Chris Ronayne had thought about running for mayor this year. Actually, Ronayne was too coy to name the year he wanted to run. I just tweaked the post to reflect that.

The quiet mayor

I’ve had this same conversation a few times in the last couple of months. Hey, when is Frank Jackson up for re-election? someone asks. November, I tell them. Oh, good! they say, with a sigh full of frustration. Then they ask, Who’s going to run against him?

No one, I say.

So they ask about Chris Ronayne (if they’ve been paying some attention to local politics) or Joe Cimperman (if they haven’t).

Nope, sorry. I’ve asked a few of my political sources: Who’s thinking of running against Jackson this year? The word is: no one of any stature.

This prospect -- the mayor coasting to re-election in November -- will drive some people crazy. What’s he done? they complain. But in his own quiet way, Jackson's been pushing regionalism, making deals with suburbs that include promises not to lure city businesses away. He’s flown to Costa Rica, Germany and France to try to attract foreign investment. He’s kept the city’s books in decent shape, while nearby cities such as Detroit are slashing budgets.

So far, Jackson has avoided one of the biggest cliches about mayoral leadership: he is the rare big-city mayor who is not accused of favoring downtown and neglecting neighborhoods. Jackson's years as a ward leader help him with this. I’m hearing that he is quite popular in most city neighborhoods, and that he even went door-to-door this summer to ask random citizens how the city can improve its services. I bet the news that the mayor showed up down the street gets around the block fast.

I’m sure that's why Chris Ronayne, president of University Circle, isn’t planning to challenge Jackson. A year ago, my colleague Andy Netzel profiled Ronayne, wrote about his interest in being mayor someday, and sized up his prospects if he ran against Jackson. But in December, Ronayne told the Plain Dealer's Mark Naymik that he does not plan to run for mayor in 2009.

A lot of Clevelanders remember the buzz eight years ago about Joe Cimperman running for mayor someday. Cimperman is definitely ambitious – just look at his run for Congress against Dennis Kucinich – but I’m hearing he’s more likely to try to move up to a county office next time one opens up.

Naymik's piece explained some of the other reasons that Jackson will be tough for anyone to beat. For instance, he came up with a graceful way to say that black candidates have an advantage because the city’s population is 54 percent black.

The column upset Norm Roulet at RealNEO – check out his funny poll: “Plain Dealer Has Declared Frank Jackson Re-Elected Mayor in 2009... is that what you want?” (Click here and scroll down.)

But I’m hearing what Naymik’s hearing. So another online survey ought to ask, “Who should run against Frank Jackson in 2009?” and, more important, “Who can beat him?”

If you’ve got a name, let me know.

(Photo by Mike Raby, from flickr)