City Councilman Mehaul O’Leary was “blindsided” by the City Manager’s decision to quit, Vice Mayor Chris Armenta was “shocked,” and Councilman Scott Malsin was “surprised and disappointed.”
But at last night’s meeting, following Mark Scott’s affirmation of his decision to really go home, four of the five Council members sat there as if they were participating in a convention of deaf-and-dumb ex-wives.
C’mon, boys.
Imagine inviting a guest to your home. Comes time for him to leave. Four of the five of you take one wordless step back, leaving the Mayor to briefly thank the guest for falling by, and now, hurry up, pal, pass the ham-and-cheese.
“We are brothers, we are family,” the always congenial Mr. Armenta said. “Many times we will allow the Mayor to speak on our behalf.”
I think the last time was at Millard Fillmore’s funeral. These are not violets who specialize in shrinking.
Mr. Malsin said, “Mark knows how highly I value him.”
One interpretation of their creative silence is that they felt sabotaged, betrayed by Mr. Scott’s decision. Rather than proffering an insincere bouquet of best-wishes before a live crowd and television camera, they would hold their tongues.
They also are worried that with a high-profile City Manager effectively double-parking while he held the job, the franchise, the image of the community, would be damaged.
If your wife wants to divorce you, you don’t call the Mayor to give your response.
To be candid, these five gentlemen hold desultory opinions about much of the globe, including the price of watermelons in Dubuque and of cheeseburgers in Topeka.
But when the classy CEO they hired months ago with the highest hopes any of them have entertained in their professional lives drops a bombshell into the vase of wilted flowers before them — they don’t have anything to say?
Once There Were Hopes for Change
At least City Hall can no longer be accused of lacking imagination.
If you ever have watched a heated15-minute debate over a particle of dust in a corner, you may agree.
Retrospection always operates like expensive windshield wipers in this afternoon’s rain.
Was the City Manager’s job ever a fit for Mr. Scott?
Looking back, probably not. However, it may have been unreasonable to expect any of Mr. Scott’s employers to be so prescient.
Should suspicions have been voiced?
Clues were neatly in place.
At 59 years old last spring, the Councilmen wanted to believe this would be the job from which Mr. Scott would retire. They handed him a standard three-year contract
Sources said they had underlying concerns Culver City would be a way station rather than a destination.
The most shrill tipoff to the notion that this would not be his final job was:
Since accepting the job, Mr. Scott and his wife of 36 years have been living at opposite ends of the country, with no known breakthrough in sight even now.
Further, Council members were well aware of how spartanly the City Manager was living, a weird social adjustment to suddenly make when you have been married for almost two-thirds of your life.
From a distance, Mr. Scott’s predicament may have looked innocent, serene. Up close, the warning signs probably were more evident.
