I know you are out there. You've been keeping quiet about all these messes — just like me. But you've been thinking the same thing I've been thinking.
How do the powers that be keep their power here?
They play dirty. They cut deals for themselves, their contributors and their cronies, and they do it all at our expense.
How many times have you read of public officials handing out multimillion-dollar contracts or grants to those who greased the machine with campaign money? How many more stories do we have to read about companies or contractors that have failed the public trust, only to be given bigger jobs with which to fail us?
The Aisenbergs get arrested, and then we find out the case was built on evidence cooked up and distorted by the prosecutors in this county?
The head of the Tampa Housing Authority gets nailed for bribery and kickbacks, but only gets a little over a three-year sentence — the most lenient allowed.
County Commissioner Thomas Scott sweats it out as a grand jury weighs whether he's foisted a campaign supporter on the chief of Tampa General Hospital, strongly suggesting the CEO give the guy a major contract. Scott isn't indicted, but does he learn anything? No. He tries the same thing again, taking a supporter to State Attorney Mark Ober. What is he thinking?
And, look at our courthouse, the one place where we should be able to count on truth and justice for all. Those judges! Hot love affairs in chambers! Sexual harassment! One judge breaking into another judge's office!
Chief Judge Dennis Alvarez quits before he gets nailed for anything and has the audacity to announce that he's running for mayor. He quickly bowed out, blaming his health. The judge who dared to expose much of the malfeasance under Alvarez's watch — Greg Holder — gets stung by the Judicial Qualifications Commission.
That's how it works here.
Again and again and again.
You may have lived here long enough that you have come to believe that, oh well, it's like this everywhere.
Well, it's not.
You may have been told that this is the way it's always been in Tampa.
And, well, it is. This is the way it's always been since anyone here can remember. Business as usual.
So, we tune out. We look around and see that Tampa's a nice enough place, and since we think we can't do much about the sleazy way things work around here, we just let the bad guys have at it and hope they don't waste too much of our tax money.
Three years ago, I left journalism to work on a book about how women can lead bolder lives. Suddenly, I didn't have the clout of a byline. I was just plain ol' Citizen Fawn, and I quickly learned that what I thought did not mean jack to the powers that be. When I sent e-mails to public officials to express concerns about issues or actions, few wrote back. Those who did would tell me how much they appreciated my writing them, but, too bad, their minds were made up and what I said was meaningless.
When I vented to other citizens, my outrage was generally met with blank stares. "I tune all of that out," one friend told me. "It's healthier."
Soon, I started tuning it out, too. There were times when I went a whole week without even looking at the paper, finding that life was so much easier if I consciously traded my anger for indifference. How strange. I'd been a local news junkie my entire life, devouring two newspapers a day and all the Internet and television news I could handle.
The truth is, the less I paid attention, the better I felt. I was free to retreat into my study and write my book and enjoy my life without worrying about how I was getting screwed by the powers that be.
I missed knowing what was going on, and it seemed like I was being bullied into ignorance by "public" servants who considered most of us a bunch of schmucks.
Don't those people work for us?
The mayor, those judges, those state officials who steer everything from election results to environmental studies, the Judicial Qualifications Commission, the head of the housing authority and that gladhanding mayor — aren't they on OUR payroll?
A few months back, Weekly Planet Editor Susan Edwards asked me to consider working here as senior editor. Before I could start, I had to spend months on the road, touring with my book. All that time out there made me realize something: I treasure this place where we live. If I care about it, I can't choose to embrace ignorance or indifference.
What pushed me over the top was the Steve LaBrake fiasco. Basically, the married LaBrake has a relationship with his aide, Lynne McCarter, promotes her, gives her a raise, gets her pregnant, then gets her an exquisite home in South Tampa for a song, thanks to the help of some of the folks who got millions from him in his role as city housing chief. LaBrake and McCarter's misdeeds go well beyond what I've recounted here, but — shock of shocks — Mayor Dick Greco doesn't fire the guy. He gives him a 90-day PAID leave from his $105,000-a-year job while everything is being eyeballed by the state for ethics violations. I don't know about you, but getting more than $25,000 for 90 days off doesn't sound like punishment to me.
It sounds like business as usual in Tampa.
I kept wondering what it was that LaBrake had on Greco, and I'm still not sure. But, it had to be good.
I was reluctant to take this job, and Susan knew it. It's safe, quiet and comfortable being a stay-at-home author. All of my years as an investigative reporter taught me a hard lesson: When you threaten the status quo, it will do everything to destroy you. Just ask Greg Holder.
But, that's the problem. You and I aren't making waves. We aren't using our collective force to insist on accountability.
The idea of having a column where I could talk to you about these things was enough to get me to give up the solitude that I had as a full-time author.
I'm tired of being silent. Are you? I'm willing to make some noise here, but it will only make a difference if you are willing to make a little noise, too. Send an e-mail. Make a phone call. Remind the Old Guard that the only power it has is the power we give it. Tip me off to what's not working out there, and I'll do what I can to tell the story. Then, you can make it matter by following through.
If you're willing to help me with this, then we're on course for one wild ride.
Fawn Germer is senior editor of the Weekly Planet and is author of the recent best-selling book, Hard Won Wisdom, which features the stories and wisdom of more than 50 women presidents, CEOs, Nobel Peace Prize winners, athletes, Academy Award winners and others. You can reach her at 813-248-8888, ext. 134, or fawn.germer@weeklyplanet.com.
This article appears in Jan 17-23, 2001.