Chris Gaal | The Electron Pencil

04/03/2015

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Party On

Bloomington was the site of what can only be considered a Democratic orgy yesterday. Dems gathered at the Irish Lion at 5pm to pay tribute to and write checks for mayoral candidate John Hamilton. An hour later even more Dems got together at the Fountain Square ballroom to pat each other on the back at the annual FDR Gala.

As members of the party stretched their conga line the city block from the Lion to the ballroom, I was reminded of nothing more than my days as a randy, rowdy 22-year-old when my friends and I would bounce from party to party on a Saturday night.

Toeing The Party Line

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Only there were no guys wearing eyeliner or gals sporting fishnet hose (I ran with an avant garde club crowd back in the late ’70s and early ’80s). Led by that renowned fashion plate, former US Congressdude Baron Hill, the attire of the day was all business. The Dems mean business this year, having suffered a vicious ass-kicking nationally at the hands of the Republicans last fall. With Gov. Mike Pence’s recent pratfalls, party faithful suddenly are giddy with the possibility that the GOP just might piss away all its gains. Seemingly in the snap of a finger, 2016 looks like a resurrection year for the Dems so long as Pence et al keep stepping on their…, um, striped ties.

But first, there’s a mayoral election to get through this annum.

Hamilton and his wife, Dawn Johnsen, hosted their fundraiser at the Lion mere days before early voting begins (Tuesday, April 7th). The primary election day is Tuesday, May 5th. There’s a lot of dough to be spent between now and then. Hoping to draw more wallets out, Team Hamilton/Johnsen rolled in the heavy artillery of Blue Dog stalwart Hill.

“This guy,” Hill told the crowd after Hamilton intro’d him as a cross between his BFF and an elder statesman of rock ‘n roll (think Paul McCartney), “gets it.”

Whatever “it” is, the crowd responded, vocally at least. The number of zeroes they filled out on their checks has yet to be determined.

The currency at the FDR was less precise than dollars and cents. There, the Dems bestowed moral support upon each other. Everybody who was anybody in Bloomington Dem circles was there — save for the elephant who wasn’t in the room, Mayor Mark Kruzan.

Improbably, the mayor was a no-show. His AWOL-ness only struck me as I was leaving the Gala so I dashed off an email to one party big shot asking if it was merely my imagination. This person responded uncharacteristically tersely: “Mayor Kruzan was a top sponsor of the FDR Gala, but is keeping a low profile at events during primary season and focusing on his job at City Hall.”

This particular big shot knows full well a smart-ass like me would interpret this absence note as the pinnacle of political-speak, and so I have. My source may as well have written Kruzan “wants to spend more time with his family.”

The Mayor indeed is outgoing (ironic, considering he’s such an aloof figure) — his term ends the last day of this year — but, as far as the party is concerned, apparently, Kruzan’s out already.

I get the feeling some bad news will begin trickling out regarding Kruzan’s 12 years at the helm of this thriving, throbbing megalopolis. I’ll keep digging — hell, somebody’s gotta do it.

BTW: Whispers at the Hamilton affair have it that his opponent, Darryl Neher — Kruzan’s hand-picked guy — ought to downplay any connection with the mayor. The Hamilton camp sees the pairing as Neher’s soft underbelly. You know what? I agree with them.

Anyway, perhaps my favorite encounter of the night was with the city council’s District III representative, Marty Spechler. I rode up in the Fountain Square elevator with Spechler and a couple of young party supporters. We all intro’d ourselves to each other and one of the young guys remarked that he’s a faithful reader of The Pencil. Spechler looked puzzled. The following mini-convo ensued:

Me [to Spechler]: Don’t you read the Electron Pencil?

Spechler [still looking stumped]: I read the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal.

Me: Well, I’m not that big yet.

Spechler’s look morphed from baffled to grateful, thanks to the elevator doors opening. I wondered for a hot moment if he’d try to dig up The Pencil when he’d get home before my good sense reasserted itself.

As promised yesterday, I stalked two very decent (morally and ethically), very capable figures to ask them what their political plans might be vis-a-vis elective office. One of them already holds county office but I’ve been sensing this character ought to think in grander terms. The other is unelected but nevertheless is a key player in party affairs.

Let’s start with the already-elected pol. I tapped Monroe County Prosecutor Chris Gaal on the shoulder and asked, point blank, “What about Congress, Mr. Prosecutor?”

Gaal: Huh?

Me: You.

Gaal: What?

Me: Congress.

Gaal: What about it?

Me: You. Congress. Why not?

Gaal [a lightbulb going off above his head]: You mean me, run for Congress?

Me: Yeah. You.

Gaal [without missing a beat]: You can quote me on this: I’d rather have a sharp stick in the eye. I love what I’m doing and I have big plans for this office.

That is, the one he already occupies. Fair enough. I believe him. Too bad. I could see Gaal giving Todd Young a run for his money.

The other person appeared equally as mind-blown by my Q. This person absolutely and positively denied ever even entertaining such a crazy idea. Now, I wasn’t meaning this person ought to run for Congress. Maybe something a little less ambitious, like county commissioner. Ixnay, the person repeated.

Me: Can I mention your name in tomorrow’s Pencil?

The Person [aghast]: No!

Again, fair enough. And again, it’s a damned shame.

Here are some pix from yesterday’s bashes:

: John Hamilton

: Baron Hill

: The Obamas

: Steve Volan & Friends

: Marty Spechler, Dave Rollo, Matt Pierce & Geoff McKim

11/28/2012

1 Comment

1968 Democratic Convention, Abraham Lincoln, Anita Alvarez, Chicago Police Department, Chris Gaal, Equal Rights Amendment, G-8, Honda Fit She's, Keith Richards, NATO, Phillip Morris Company, Phyllis Schlafly, Police Riot, Rahm Emanuel, Rolling Stones, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Susan Brownmiller, US Supreme Court, Virginia Slims

The Pencil Today:

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THE QUOTE

“Women are all female impersonators to some degree.” — Susan Brownmiller

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SHE♥S A GIRL

Do American women really want pink cars?

I suppose there are those who do, but do enough of them crave advertising the fact that they have the XX chromosome that it’s worth it to Honda produce millions of the new pink Fit She♥s?

Haven’t we gone beyond this stuff?

BTW: that’s precisely how Honda’s styling the new model’s name, with a cutesy little heart rather than an apostrophe. Ick. And another thing, what would be the purpose for an apostrophe in that position anyway? The whole thing is a mess, I tell you.

Pink Car? Flowers In Hand? Proof She Has A Vagina

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Terrifyingly, the new Fit She♥s have windshields designed to minimize facial wrinkles (I’m not making this up) and the AC system helps prevent bad skin.

Oh, you gals!

Back in the early 70s when women’s lib was becoming sort of acceptable, Phillip Morris Company marketed Virginia Slims cigarettes. They were longer and narrower and had pretty little packaging.

The ads for the smoke were everywhere. You’ve come a long way, baby, the brand’s tagline, became part of the cultural landscape.

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But that was then. Sassy women were fresh and exotic — that is until they started making noises about earning the same salaries as men — then they had to be squashed. Just a few years later, Phyllis Schlafly and her gang of upright simians successfully stymied the Equal Rights Amendment. Before the decade was out, women’s lib became a couple of dirty words.

Somehow many females in this holy land got themselves elected to Congress and even were named CEOs of big corporations. Heck, there are more female university students than male in the United States today.

And, mirabile dictu, they’re not just going to college to look for husbands.

So even though the wording of our Constitution was never changed to accommodate one half of our population, women seem to be making big strides, even if the Right Wingers and Christian fundamentalists would like them to make little pitti-pat strides in bare feet.

I feel uncomfortable around anybody who needs to blare to the world what shape their genitals are. Suffice it to say I don’t keep company with any woman who’d be hot for one of these pink cars.

In fact, it was The Loved One who insisted on black when we bought our then-new car a few years ago. She’s cool by me.

Who Am I To Argue With The Loved One?

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INNER CITY BLUES

So, our friends in the Bloomington Common Council last night OK’d the plan to build a 168-room Hyatt hotel on Kirkwood just west of the Courthouse.

Yeesh. I smell a pile of Starbucks, McDonald’s, and Coldwater Creeks popping up around that area quicker than you can say gridlock.

Bloomington Tomorrow?

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This ain’t Memaw and Pepaw’s Bloomington anymore.

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FREEDOM! WELL, A LITTLE BIT

In the lead-up to last year’s scheduled NATO and G-8 summits in Chicago, Mayor Rahm Emanuel and his State’s Attorney, Anita Alvarez, cooked up a law banning the recording of cops doing their jobs on the city’s public streets.

Protesters and civil liberties advocates screamed to high heaven that the new law would allow the cops to act with impunity during rallies and marches. It would be, they feared, 1968 all over again.

Reporter & Protester, Bloodied By Cops During The ’68 Convention

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Rahm and Alvarez, whose position is analagous to that of Chris Gaal here, figured they’d be protecting the identities of cops who might subsequently be targeted at their homes for retribution or merely for the hell of it.

It’s possible. Problem is, whenever public officials or law enforcement officers are allowed to work in secrecy, they tend to do things that they really need to keep secret. Like clunking people on the head with their nightsticks.

A Convincing Argument

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So, what’s more important? Keeping cops safe in their homes or keeping citizens safe from the cops?

I know where I stand. Police work is a dangerous business. You take your chances when you take the oath. That doesn’t mean anyone who messes with the home or family of a cop isn’t a stinking rat. But we have laws to protect any citizens — including cops — from criminal attack.

We always have to be vigilant against the chilling effect of authority and tyranny on public speech and demonstrations. That trumps most other considerations.

And guess what? The US Supreme Court agrees! Huzzah!

The Court, still dominated by Reagan/Bush/Bush conservatives — believe it or not, refused to overturn a lower court ruling yesterday that Emanuel and Alavarez’s new law was too broad and unconstitutional.

They Got It Right This Time

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Next time there’s a mass demonstration in Chicago — or anywhere else in this free country — protesters will be able to record the doings of the cops, just in case the boys in blue have an urge to dent some skulls.

[A Note: The NATO summit was eventually moved to another location where organizers wouldn’t have to worry about mass protests.]

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FOGIES

In other Supreme Court news, the Rolling Stones now are older, on average, than the nine members of the highest court in the land.

Early Humans

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And that includes Ruth Bader Ginsburg, who in March will celebrate her 169th birthday. She is the only living human to have attended both inaugurations of Abraham Lincoln.

The team of mathematicians who calculated the astronomical figures have said they did not take into consideration the fact that Keith Richards has lived the equivalent of hundreds of years. Had the Richards factor been added to the algorithm, the math geeks say, the average age of the Stones would have exceeded that of the ancient redwood trees of California.

Just Kids

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06/13/2012

2 Comments

Amy Gerstman, Bloomington Indiana, Bobby Knight, Chris Gaal, Elinor Ostrom, John Steinbeck, Wrigley Field

The Pencil Today:

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THE QUOTE

“It has always seemed strange to me… the things we admire in men — kindness and generosity, openness, honesty, understanding and feeling — are the concomitants of failure in our system. And those traits we detest — sharpness, greed, acquisitiveness, meanness, egotism and self-interest — are the traits or success. And while men admire the quality of the first, they love the produce of the second.” — John Steinbeck

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MY KIND OF TOWN

The Loved One and I rolled into town in the fall of 2009.

I didn’t know what to think about Bloomington, Indiana. I’d never even visited the place. If you’d have pushed me, I might have recalled hearing its name during the glory days of Bobby Knight.

Other than that, all I knew when we moved here was Bloomington’s just a place in Indiana.

Uh, This Guy Did His Hollering In Bloomtown Or Someplace

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To be honest, I was a little wary of relocating here. Maybe even depressed. Heck, the place is a half hour away from the nearest Interstate. I’d spent much of my life in places like Wrigley Field, which can seat nearly 60 percent of the entire population of Bloomington.

Most Of Bloomington Could Fit In Here

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I recall telling myself not to slip into thinking this was nowheresville.

And then, like a lightning bolt, came the news that Elinor Ostrom had won the Nobel Prize for Economics.

Bloomington‘s Elinor Ostrom.

Elinor Ostrom

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I read all about Ostrom the day that news broke. The little girl with a stutter who came from a poor family. Went to Beverly Hills High. Got the bug to go to college there. Followed her husband to IU where he’d landed a teaching gig. Worked with him to develop innovative theories on resource management and green economics.

The first woman in history to win a Nobel in economics.

How cool, I thought, she’s from my new town.

Elinor Ostrom provided me with my first taste of civic pride here.

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I never got a chance to meet her which is too bad. I’ll bet she was a hoot. According to the papers, she spent the last days of her life battling pancreatic cancer. I’m glad she at least had the chance to enjoy being a Nobel laureate for two and a half years, until she died yesterday morning.

She didn’t know it, but she welcomed a guy here in the fall of 2009.

Bloomington’s no longer my new town. Just my town.

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WHAT TO DO, WHAT TO DO

Click.

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THE SLOW WHEELS OF JUSTICE

My town turns out to be a little bit like my old town. Public officials get sloppy with their morals and ethics and the next thing you know, prosecutors are sniffing around.

Monroe County Prosecutor Chris Gaal filed a request Monday for a special prosecutor in the Amy Gerstman case. Gaal can’t handle the case himself since both he and Gertsman are Democrats. The county auditor is in hot water for using credit cards issued to her office for her personal use.

It’s about time.

Chris Gaal

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The only thing I can’t figure out is why it took so long for anybody to threaten action against Gerstman.

I thought sure she would resign her post after news of her using county credit cards to buy groceries and even pay her kid’s tuition at a private school broke in January.

Gerstman’s breech of ethics was at the very least plain dumb. It’s also quite possibly criminal.

I get the feeling Gerstman might have avoided the spectacle of a criminal investigation had she quit six months ago. After all, she was trying to pay the dough back.

Happier Days For Amy Gerstman

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There has been no public outcry for her ouster which can be attributed to one of two possible causes:

Bloomington is an unusually forgiving town
Bloomington doesn’t give a damn

I’m not putting my money on reason number one. That is, my money which Amy Gerstman is supposed to be monitoring with great care as the county’s fiscal watchdog.

Don’t get me started on the rest of Bloomington’s and Monroe County’s elected officials who have remained mum during this whole affair. Two or three of them have whispered to me that, well, this is really a small town and nobody wants to badmouth anybody else.

Oh.

Two or three of them also have said Amy Gerstman really needs the job. She’s got a family to support, after all.

Hmm.

Perhaps the main difference between my new town and my old town is my old town’s excuses were better.

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The Electron Pencil

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