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Letter to the editor

Politics

Gadflies feel it's their duty to speak up

By ANNE LINDBERG
Published July 4, 2007

The right to be heard does not automatically include the right to be taken seriously - Hubert Humphrey

Democracy. You gotta love it.

What better day than the Fourth of July to appreciate our often bumptious, irritating and inefficient form of representative government?

So today we salute democracy as it plays out on a small stage - in city halls before city councils all over the country.

Specifically, we salute the gadfly - the man or woman who shows up at public meetings again and again to "petition the government (often at length) for the redress of grievances."

It's a treasured right, and Americans are not shy about using it.

In St. Petersburg Emily Rogers Coeyman has been a regular at City Council meetings for more than 30 years, peppering council members with questions.

Now 86, Coeyman often sits in an otherwise empty council chamber waiting for her three minutes during open forum. The council members address her with her first name, and if she misses a few meetings, they get worried.

But let's take a closer look at the work of the gadfly, and we'll use those from Pinellas Park, a blue-collar, plain-speaking town if ever there was one.

There's Joe Shelley, who likes to fuss about horse droppings.

And Marshall Cook. He has thoughts on many subjects and is happy to share them. Once he appeared to drum up donations for a sick child.

Randy Heine, who ran an unsuccessful campaign for mayor, frequently pops in and seems to enjoy taking jabs at the council.

Former Mayor Cecil Bradbury frequently offers advice, and Mike Allen doesn't think much of Muslims and likes to say so.

Until recently, the council has been flexible about allowing folks to talk for just about as long as they wanted, providing they didn't natter for an hour.

Recently that changed, as the city coped with the horse dropping wars. Where and when are the droppings acceptable?

The council, faced with Shelley on one side and outraged horse owners on the other (each accusing the other of lying), began enforcing its seldom-used three-minute speaking limit.

Then Shelley brought friends from other cities to cede their time to him - a blatant effort to get around the time limitation. The council put a stop to that by passing a rule that allowed time-trading, but set a 10-minute limit.

This didn't sit well with gadflies in attendance. They saw this as a way to deprive them of their right to speak. They argued that the council should have given them more time to study the change.

Their objections puzzled council member Rick Butler. The rule actually was being relaxed, he said. If that was a problem, he said, he would vote against the relaxation. The gadflies said yes. Butler voted to keep the stricter rule. The gadflies applauded.

Democracy. You gotta love it.

Times staff writer Aaron Sharockman and researcher Angie Nolan contributed to this report.

[Last modified July 3, 2007, 21:03:10]