On another sharply partisan evening in Council Chambers when the subject of animal control once more brought out beastly feelings among members, the City Council thrashed around for hours last night, like marbles on steroids, before grumpily agreeing to approve of a dual animal shelter arrangement that had seemed foreordained.
But not before City Manager Jerry Fulwood, voice cracking, delivered one of the toughest speeches of his career, and not before Mayor Scott Malsin disgustedly looked up and down the dais at the perceived most stubborn members and snorted, “This is politics at its worst.”
In the afterglow of a shrewd and subtle Fulwood-engineered compromise, the Council grudgingly voted 5 to 0, preliminarily, to negotiate a one-year contract with an animal shelter in Hawthorne operated by the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, while maintaining an ongoing agreement with the County to use its shelter and services at Carson.
Effectively, this means that the Spca shelter, much praised by two Council members and the public, would supplant the much-criticized Carson shelter as the primary destination for Culver City animals.
The hitch in an otherwise smooth two-tiered arrangement is whether the County will concede to having its animal control officer deliver most Culver City animals to Hawthorne instead of Carson. Two County representatives assured the Council last night their bosses would be amenable.
Where Is the Proof?
Binding approval hinges on a telephone call Asst. City Manager Martin Cole will make today to County officials. He will seek the County’s confirmation — in writing — that the new wrinkles, which are unorthodox, are acceptable. The Council will take a final vote on the matter, regarded as no more than a formality, at next Monday’s meeting.
Scores of structural and fiscal details remain to be researched and agreed upon in the two-year pilot program to hire a Culver City animal control officer. But you never would have known it from the driven sense of urgency — emotionally underpinned immediacy — that pervaded the Council’s sometimes-chilly exchanges with each other.
With an announced 110-member cheering section, mainly from Friends of Culver City Animals, rooting them on from the audience, bitten-off sentence by bitten-off sentence, Vice Mayor Gary Silbiger and Councilman Chris Armenta, sailed to a satisfying but rocky victory.
But the so-called predictable outcome threatened to veer into a ditch before an unforeseen tactic by Mr. Fulwood created a win-win result.
Mr. Silbiger, a career hardliner, and Mr. Armenta, who is on occasion, have been emotionally invested advocates of a maximum-service animal control program, regardless of cost, since this latest attempt to introduce a program was approved by the City Council last June. They formed the subcommittee that has been blueprinting the program step-by-step, and the subcommittee has been a lightning rod from the start for assertedly attempting to ram through a plan light on details and on precise costs.
The mood of most Council members coming into last night’s meeting was wary and dark, especially after City Hall staffers last week essayed a highly unusual report that baldly charged the subcommittee with rushing two separate animal shelter items to the Council for approval although both were judged embarrassingly short on content.
Taking an unusual step, Mr. Fulwood announced that he would urge the Council to postpone discussion on approving a temporary shelter in Culver City Park, for the reasons listed above. And he did.
Did Everybody Know?
Conventional wisdom going into the meeting was that Councilman Andy Weissman and Mayor Malsin would oppose approval because too little information had been provided, and that the swingman on the Council, Mehaul O’Leary, would once again be the pivotal voter to affirm the new deal with the Spca in Hawthorne.
However, the collegial-minded Mr. Weissman tossed a wrench into the conventional plans. He suggested to his colleagues that by practicing prudence , the community could come together for a refreshing change and the majority faction could win with a unanimous vote instead ofa slither-by ballot of 3 to 2.
His long career as a lawyer, said Mr. Weissman, had convinced him it was not sound business practice to merely take the word of two non-policymaking County representatives that the County would assent to suddenly broadened terms in its contract with Culver City.
Too many things can happen, he said, between an informal promise and an amended contract to be determined by County counsel. Therefore, he said, let’s wait until next week or the week after — in any event, not very long — to make sure that the County is on board before finalizing an unconditional agreement.
Immediately and vociferously, both Mr. Armenta and Mr. Silbiger said no, the vote must be now. Like flipping a light switch, that hardened position ignited a stream of cheers from the crowd as both men, but especially Mr. Silbiger, spoke directly to the riled-up partisans. (When the public had the floor, about 100 opinions were expressed, every single one volubly in support of anointing Hawthorne as Culver City’s rescuer.
No Room for Compromise?
The more Mr. Weissman and Mr. Malsin pleaded with the two advocates, Mr. Armenta and Mr. Silbiger, the more staunchly they resisted the imprecations. “The people deserve a vote tonight, they have been waiting too long,” Mr. Armenta said. “This should have been done years ago.”
Just as Mr. Weissman’s plea for unity was foundering, Mr. Armenta relented.
He asked, generically of city staff, if there were any language that could be found to break the logjam and forge a vote, immediately instead of next week, without, he implied, either side losing face.
Enter Mr. Fulwood to save the night, brilliantly, some would say later. The City Manager introduced a scenario that soon felt surreal. He tapped his trusted aide, Mr. Cole, to articulate a supposed third way.
Whether the seamless handoff from Mr. Fulwood to Mr. Cole was cleverly planned and rehearsed during a break an hour earlier, it is not known. But Mr. Cole was at his deft best when called upon.
Mr. Cole Was a Merry Soul
To set the stage, Mr. Cole arguably is the best liked, most congenial, most inoffensive, most neutral and funniest official every Monday in Council Chambers. He has fairly blossomed into public view since taking over as City Clerk last spring with a noticeable spring in every verbal step he undertakes.
With the Council engaged in what looked like a terminal quarrel, Mr. Fulwood reasoned, who better to clear out the clutter and set the members on a straight, unimpeded course?
“I would like to make a suggestion,” Mr. Cole began, “that I hope will allow a 5 to 0 vote tonight.”
All sides hunched forward. Taking Mr. Weissman’s proposal and keeping it intact, he regurgitated it, Cole-style. Similar words. Identical sentiments. Identical emphases.
Mr. Weissman was the most surprised man in Chambers. Almost gapingly, he mouthed the words, “That’s what I suggested.”
A moment later, possibly before many people realized what had just happened, the Council opened wide, swallowed, and voted 5 to 0 for Mr. Weissman’s proposal.
The only person in Chambers who might have been clutching, internally, at that bridging moment was Mr. Fulwood.
He was the author of the evening’s two most riveting interludes. As promised, the normally low-key-in-public City Manager delivered an unprecedented powerhouse critique of several parties, but notably the subcommittee, at the outset of the meeting.
Although his staff did not escape criticism, his stronger guns were aimed at Mr. Silbiger and Mr. Armenta on the subcommittee for the reasons cited above, like placing uncooked hamburger patties on the dinner table, rushing two animal shelter items to the agenda well before they had been properly vetted.
Thrust and Parry
Ever the reserved gentleman, Mr. Fulwood’s strong voice broke a number of times, as if to accent his discomfort at uttering the words. As soon as he criticized the Council members, from inside of a velvet glove, he promptly seemed to draw back what he had said before the words could inflict damage.
But the words met their target. Later from the dais, Mr. Silbiger, who almost regularly tangles with the City Manager, scorched him, in slightly veiled language, for overstepping the boundaries of his authority. He also vowed he would have more to say at a later date. The populist Vice Mayor bristled at the thought that anyone should attempt to override the authority of officials who had been elected by the people to represent them.
Hearts were not weighed when City Hall officials filed out of Council Chambers. But some thought they knew who possessed the heaviest one.
