Commissioners Marc Sarnoff, left, and Joe Sanchez battle it out on the ball field

In the wake of the gold T-shirt fiasco, when West Grove residents reportedly were lured to the Miami City Commission chambers with promises of $100 apiece to provide visual support for the Related Group’s Grove Bay project, Commissioner Marc Sarnoff decided to hold a Town Hall meeting for the West Grove neighborhood (aka Black Grove) at St. James Baptist Church, located at 3500 Charles Ave. It was an interesting exchange in which Sarnoff told of the things he was fighting for (more park space in Miami and the implementation of a Sasaki-authored waterfront plan for Coconut Grove), while residents of impoverished West Grove told Sarnoff what they wanted — namely affordable housing for those who actually live in the area and youth activities for West Grove teenagers, lest they become part of the drug trade rampant in the area. And like their more affluent (and, to be blunt, whiter) Center Grove neighbors, a contingent of participants had a wary distrust for unrestricted development.

It was when attorney and activist Neil Shiver talked about a five-story height limit in the West Grove that a large bang could be heard from the back of the church, followed by an ear-piercing, gut-wrenching scream. Everyone inside the church — West Grovites, activists from other parts of Coconut Grove, city aides and a couple of reporters — froze, not knowing what to do. The Rev. Kenton Williams went to the back and then urged Commissioner Sarnoff to keep going. He did, but the screams didn’t stop. A woman continued to bellow horrified cries of AH! AH! AH! AH! once a second. Sarnoff continued to speak, his face a lighter tint of pale. The answers and questions continued to flow from the church pulpit as well. The AH! AH! AH! cries continued unabated for more than 15 minutes. It wasn’t until Sarnoff announced that his office would be funding an Optimist football team, to the pleasant applause of most of the audience, that the screams from the unseen woman subsided. They would start again when blue and red lights flashed through the windows and police escorted her out.

After the meeting was finally over, Murmurs had one question for the reverend: “Who was that?”

“I don’t even know,” he replied. The woman, whom he described as in her mid-30s, had broken into the back of the church, where she was watched by staff from the city. “They had to call the police,” he said. And that was that.

Unlucky You

“The dramatic change in the City of Miami Beach since 1980 and the unique nature of our vibrant, tropical, historical community have resulted in unprecedented growth, making this city the economic engine for the entire region.”

So begins an April 13 letter signed by Miami Beach Mayor David Dermer and City Manager Jorge Gonzalez, which was sent to a few thousand homeowners, explaining why they were receiving a $300 check — what Gonzalez likes to call a Miami Beach Homeowner’s Dividend Fund check. It’s part of a “tax relief” effort for primary resident homeowners faced with increasing property assessments, skyrocketing insurance rates and ever-growing utility bills.

Unfortunately, Miami Beach resident Bill Marshall thought he’d missed out on his check two years in a row, so he called a nice municipal employee who explained there wasn’t much Marshall could do about last year’s check (a $200 dividend) except try to get the money from the new owners of his old condo. See, Marshall owned and lived in his Belle Isle condo for the last year and a half, paying out $44,000 a year in property taxes. When he sold his home it was the first week of April, and the buyers, who had owned the condo for less than a month, got the $200.

“There was nothing to clear up,” Marshall said. “They said I got screwed.… Luck of the draw and I got shafted. I can only imagine how many people this was done to.” Marshall, who now lives elsewhere in Miami Beach, was at least relieved to know he could count on receiving his $300 check in the mail this year.

The city employee Marshall talked to — we’ll call her Mary because she preferred her name not be published — works in the Finance Department. She explained that the city gets its information as to where to send the dividend check from Miami-Dade County. It’s based on who is claiming homesteaded property in Miami Beach as of the first week of April — hardly a week prior to the checks being sent out. She said it’s a “Catch-22.”

Marshall said he heard there were a lot of people asking for dividend checks they never received. “A lot of people called to complain,” he claimed.

“No, thank God,” replied Mary, when asked if there were hordes of property owners demanding their money. There have been few complaints of that nature, she said. She called Marshall a “nice guy.” “I can see how upset [he would be],” she said.

Actually, Marshall said he’s not so miffed. After paying 44Gs in taxes, $200 “is just nothing; it’s just laughable.”

Some of Our Best Friends Are Politicians

At about 9:30 a.m. Tuesday a call was transferred to Murmurs. It’s someone from the governor’s office, said the transferer. On the line was a youngish-sounding woman who asked if the SunPost would be able to make it to a press conference Charlie Crist was hosting in his office for “black papers.” Tomorrow. In Tallahassee. Murmurs was intrigued. Black papers? But since our editorial budget barely covers bus fare to Miami City Commission meetings, let alone airfare to our state’s capital, Murmurs asked if being teleconferenced in was a possibility instead. I don’t think so, said the representative pleasantly but firmly. Wanting to make sure there were no misunderstandings before ending the call, Murmurs asked, “So, this is for all newspapers?” A pause. “Just the black … Af-… black papers,” she replied. Another pause, “Which we believe you are — right?”

“Well, we’re more a general newspaper, but … well, what is the agenda for the conference?”

“[Governor Crist] just wants to get to know you all. … Talk about session … see how you all think things are going…. No specific agenda. …”

Murmurs jotted down the name of Chelsea Clifton, assistant to the director of external affairs, and her phone number in case we were able to scrape together enough lunch money to scurry up to Tallahassee after all. Then Murmurs attempted to contact Miami Times, which, their Web site, www.miamitimesonline.com, states, is the “South’s largest black weekly circulation,” founded in 1923, to see if they had been contacted and would be attending. If so, maybe Murmurs could catch a ride or something. No answer at the phone number posted online. Mired by deadlines, Murmurs forgot about the press conference until Wednesday afternoon, when Murmurs decided to call Clifton to see how the discussion went. A gentleman answered the line, “Governor Crist’s office,” then put Murmurs on hold to fetch Clifton. There was no hold music, rather a confident recorded voice, one we can only assume was that of the governor, relaying a stream of information: “… Teacher bonuses will keep teachers in the classroom.… We also addressed our environment, dedicated more than $200 million to the Everglades.… The people’s Legislature listened.…”

Clifton came on the line. “We actually wound up canceling that meeting because we didn’t get a big enough group, but we will be rescheduling for sometime next month. So you didn’t miss anything, and we will be in contact.”

Playing Ball

Public officials often have disagreements with each other — which can sometimes bloom into full-fledged grudges and even feuds. For example: In 2002, during a really long Miami-Dade County Commission budget hearing, a frustrated Commissioner Natacha Seijas turned to Commissioner Gwen Margolis and remarked, “You know, today is the day you might just leave here in a body bag” — like twice, according to a Miami New Times article. In spite of a letter of apology, Margolis never forgot the incident and donated $300 to a political action committee dedicated to recalling Seijas. And then there is the classic war between Carlos Lacasa and Alex and Renier Diaz de la Portilla, which even escalated into fistfights during radio show broadcasting.

So maybe it’s a good thing that Miami Commissioners Marc Sarnoff and Joe Sanchez decided to resolve a “disagreement” by playing a softball game: Sarnoff’s office versus Sanchez’s office. Emerging victorious, according to a press release, was Sarnoff’s team by a score of 19-10. Acting as umpire during the game: baseball player Alex Fernandez and City Manager Pete Hernandez.

As a result of his office’s defeat, Sanchez will reconsider his vote approving zoning changes that enable the Related Group to build high-rises next to Mercy Hospital, a change that Sarnoff and many of his Grove constituents as well as socialite Vizcayans opposed. Just kidding!

Actually the only outcome of the game was that Sarnoff won a trophy, which will sit in his office until his aides play another commissioner in softball. Fun! There was also a donation made to the Boys and Girls Club.

Remembering Bea

For decades Bea Kalstein stormed Miami Beach City Hall and centers of government all over Miami-Dade County to remind officials of their obligation to serve the people who paid their salaries or elected them to office, and to rant against bad deals. So it’s fitting that a memorial service be held in Miami Beach’s commission chambers, 1700 Convention Center Drive, in honor of Kalstein, who died April 15 at the age of 91. The service will take place on Thursday, May 17, at 5 p.m. The public is welcome to attend and “encouraged to share their memories of Bea.” Refreshments will be served.

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