Unfortunately, the letter tells you more about Gersten's "friends" than it does about Gersten. It's interesting that such civic pillars aren't sufficiently appalled by Joey's evasive conduct to make them set aside their political loyalties.
Maybe the voters will be suckered, maybe not. They've got 12 other choices, none of whom are hiding from prosecutors.
Ferre also owes voters an explanation
April II, 1993
Tales from the crypt: Maurice Ferre is back.
He is risen from the land of political losers to run for Metro Commission. Lucky for him, there's no law against deadbeats holding elected office in Florida.
If bad debts were pit bulls, the former Miami mayor would have lost his most crucial appendages a long time ago. No one but Ferre knows precisely how much he owes, because he conveniently neglected to report it on his campaign disclosure form, as required by the state.
Ferre is no stranger to noncompliance. When he launched this most recent campaign, he still owed $65,000 of a $70,000 fine for campaign-law violations dating to 1981. The debt recently was trimmed to $62,000 after Ferre kicked in a whopping $3,000 of his wife's dough.
He hasn't taken the fine too seriously, and for good reason. In 1983, the Dade state attorney sued for the money, but soon gave up the hunt. Janet Reno says she put the case aside because her investigators couldn't find any funds listed in the ex-mayor's name. Everything had been transferred to Ferre's wife, Mercedes.
Ferre says he did it when the family concrete business, Maule Industries, went belly up in the late 19705. At the time, the company's liabilities were reported at $23 million. Knowing creditors would be looking for him, Ferre basically gave all assets to his wife—an old dodger's trick, and a legal one.
It wouldn't even be noteworthy if Ferre was some private schlump who'd botched up a few business deals. He's more than that. He's running for a Metro Commission seat that will put him within lunging distance of a combined $3 billion budget.
It's perfectly proper for voters to demand details of a candidate's finances, no matter how muddled. A man who can't balance his own checkbook, and doesn't pay his debts, is a poor choice for handling taxpayer dollars. Ferre's wife, in fact, would seem a more sensible selection.
The ex-mayor solemnly claims to have no assets. He describes himself as an international businessman, but insists he's earned no money—not a dime—since Maule dissolved about 15 years ago. So what's he been up to?
He travels regularly to Puerto Rico and Latin America, where he supposedly assembles complicated mega-deals for other companies. Are we to believe he does it just for the sport? "I put deals together," Ferre explained to a reporter, "and will be paid in the future." What a curious arrangement.
In the meantime, he enjoys a "very nice lifestyle" supported by a "very substantial income" from his wife's family holdings. This, while continuing to stiff the good citizens of Florida for $62,000.
If Mercedes Ferre doesn't wish to cover the balance of her husband's court-ordered fine, that's her business. But it's hard to understand why Ferre himself has made no serious effort to make good on the debt. He's a bright, able-bodied, well-spoken fellow. Why doesn't he get a paying job?
By now, he could have settled the entire matter for a measly six grand a year. Bagboys at Publix do better than that. Of course, even part-time work might interfere with the "very nice lifestyle" to which the ex-mayor is accustomed.
Under fire in the District 7 Metro race, Ferre vows to obey the law and pay off the outstanding 62 grand … gradually. The state attorney has made no move to collect.
Too bad it's not a Visa bill. At 18 percent annually, Ferre's 12-year slide would have compounded to a robust $473,686. And those people, like some voters, never ever forget.
Campaigns for mayoral race, so far, so bad
August 22, 1993
The best way for voters to endure the dismal Miami mayoral race is to think of it not merely as another parade of fools, but as a vaudeville audition.
With the election more than two months away, the campaign has already degenerated into a promising orgy of mudslinging and petty sabotage. The three major candidates—Miami Commissioner Miriam Alonso, former Metro Mayor Steve Clark and T. Willard Fair, head of the Urban League—all allege slimeball behavior by their opponents.
The question for Miami voters isn't whether the candidates engage in dirty tricks. It's a given that most of them do. The issue is the quality of these new dirty tricks. Are they personal enough, vicious enough, deceptive enough and craven enough to uphold the city's sewer-rat tradition of scummy politics?
So far, so bad.
Now appearing on many cars are fluorescent bumper stickers that proclaim: "Miriam Alonso is a Communist." Well, Alonso is not a Communist, and every self-respecting Communist ought to be offended at the suggestion. The party's got enough headaches in Miami without having the shrill and conniving Alonso as a member.
On the question of temperament, tabloid newspapers now circulating in Little Havana enigmatically describe the commissioner as "erratic and crazy." Is this propaganda intended to be anti-Alonso, or pro-Alonso? In some precincts, being erratic and crazy would make you the odds-on favorite.
Alonso says the nasty bumper stickers and newspapers can be traced to Steve Clark and his main supporter on the Miami commission, Victor deYurre. The reason that Clark needs a pal on the commission is (in his own words): "I don't know exactly what's going on down at City Hall because I haven't been there for 20 years."
In fact, Clark has made a career of claiming not to know what's going on, and not being there when it was. Still, he is justifiably irked by insinuations from the Alonso camp that, at 69, he's too old to be a forceful mayor. To be fair, Clark never claimed to be a forceful mayor. Hundreds of weekday golfing partners can attest to his devotion to leisure.
Raising questions about Clark's age and alertness is a risky proposition for Alonso. After all, it was she who completely forgot where she lived—and in fact, gave the wrong address—when running for office a few years ago. Perhaps both she and Clark would consent to mutual CAT scans to allay constituent concerns about possible impairment.
A new face in the political cross fire is T. Willard Fair, although he's not unacquainted with controversy. Writing in the Miami Times, Fair (who is black) has attacked other black leaders by naming them "nigger of the year." No fine trophy or plaque accompanies this dubious award.
Fair's opponents have been reminding black voters of his bluntness and have suggested that such coarse tendencies are potentially dangerous in a city where racial tensions lie close to the surface. Fair is also being slammed for failing to support Dade's black tourism boycott. To note that Clark and Alonso didn't support the boycott either would only spoil a perfectly bad dirty trick.
For all his bombast, Fair is easily the smartest of the three mayoral candidates, which automatically makes him the long shot. Alonso, the loudest of the trio, is presumed the front-runner. Clark, heavily bankrolled by developers, is running a strong and defiantly lackluster second. While the race is off to a truly disgraceful start, it will require all the candidates' energy to stay gutter-bound between now and Nov. 2.1 have every confidence they'll sink to the occasion.