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—leadership 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 leadership 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 incumbent 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 embarrassing 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 shells 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 shines 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, God. 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 crass.

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 participants 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-Fassi 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 embarrassed, 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 endorsement, only to watch Joe trash him mercilessly in front of the assembled 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 multitudes 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.