Kick Ass (32 page)

And perhaps the mayor has a dream of a kinder, gentler Miami Beach where every citizen with a 94-foot yacht gets a chance to have a teak boat dock.

To paraphrase another visionary leader, some men see things as they are and ask why.

Others see things that might be and ask: How much?

Wanted: Real job for Metro commissioner

July 18, 1990

It’s rough when even the politicians can’t get a job.

This is the plight of Metro Commissioner Jorge (No Visible Means of Support) Valdes.

He claims a net worth of $357,581, drives a Mercedes-Benz, owns a big house and two boats

and is unemployed.

Times are hard, but Valdes is resourceful. His family works, and he relies heavily on the kindness of friends. Many of these friends conduct regular business with Dade County, and appear before the County Commission to seek favorable rulings. Valdes often votes for his friends’ projectsbut not, he insists, in return for personal favors.

Sure, a county contractor catered his daughter’s wedding. And it’s true that he used the legal services of a heavyweight zoning lobbyist for a private land deal in Key Largo. And Valdes doesn’t deny that he has supplemented his commissioner’s income by working for firms connected to the Latin Builders Association, a group frequently appearing before the Metro Commission.

Says Valdes: “It’s hard for the public to understand. Personal contacts make people friends. Who are you going to ask to help you?”

In a way, it’s refreshing to find an elected official who makes absolutely no attempt to conceal obvious conflicts of interest. Valdes, in fact, seems unfamiliar with the term.

Facing reelection this fall, he ought to think about lining up a real job, pronto. He can’t afford the poignant delusion that all these folks are showering him with generosity simply because he’s a nice guy, and not because of his position. If Valdes gets voted out of his office, his pals in the building industry won’t be nearly as helpful.

No one can possibly live on the $6,000 that county commissioners are paid annually, but it’s supposed to be a part-time gig. Most commissioners at least go through the motions of finding other employment. Mayor Steve Clark, for example, is part owner of a travel agencyalthough he doesn’t spend a great deal of time at the office booking Disney tours.

Many politicians claim to be lawyers even if they have no clients and, in some cases, no office. It’s a convenient occupation because people expect you to dress nicely and eat well. When you drive up in a fancy car, everybody assumes you made the dough from your law practice and not bribes.

Another occupation often claimed by elected officeholders is “consultant.” The beauty of this job is that it sounds important but, at the same time, no one knows what it means.

Unfortunately, Commissioner Valdes currently isn’t in a position to do much consulting. And he doesn’t have a law degree, so that’s out, too.

Still, there must be something that suits his skills. All over Dade County, men and women of his age put in a full day of good honest work. The classifieds are full of interesting opportunities, if Valdes would only look.

We’re talking hundreds of jobsauto mechanics, typists, medical assistants, accountants, computer programmers, bartenders, truck drivers, salesmen, cashiers

OK, scratch that last one. It’s probably not a brilliant idea for a county commissioner to be handling money.

But there’s this ad for what seems a good match: “CLOWNS WANTED. NO EXPERIENCE NECESSARY. WILL TRAIN.” I called the number and told Fran Bombino (of the Bombino Brothers) that Commissioner Valdes needed work. Bombino said Valdes would probably make a wonderful clown, once he learns how to juggle and ride a unicycle.

For a less strenuous vocation, a Dade beauty shop is advertising for a professional hair weavera craft that Commissioner Valdes could probably pick up, with a little practice. Also, there’d be lots of time to visit leisurely with his constituents.

If it’s solitude the commissioner wants, the Rivero funeral home is looking for an embalmera peaceful respite from the turmoil of county government. Best of all, there’s virtually no chance of a future conflict with Valdes’ official duties, since dead people seldom ask the commission for favors.

From pathetic to revolting, our leaders run gamut

May 29, 1994

Local Leaders on Parade:

First comes Carlos Valdes, state representative and volunteer field-tester for the Magic Marker company. A hidden camera caught this bonehead scribbling on the wall of a Miami Beach condominium.

Valdes says he and his mother, with whom he lives, are locked in a nasty quarrel with the condo association. Recurring vandalism near Valdes’ unit caused the management to install a hidden video camera.

Catching the culprit didn’t take long. The surveillance tape shows Valdes sauntering down the hall and squeaking a black marker across the paint. Then the 43-year-old juvenile delinquent scurries back to his apartment.

Prosecutors charged Valdes with criminal mischief and he doesn’t deny that he’s the guy on the tape. While conceding his action was “unacceptable,” he says it stemmed from the legal dispute which he’s waging “on behalf of my 77-year-old mother.”

That’s real class. Lay it all on dear old Mom.

If only she were more spry, she’d fight her own battles. But what’s a good son to do? Gimme the Magic Marker, Ma. I’ll take care of this!

It’s a good thing Valdes doesn’t live in Singapore or he’d be in prison today with stripes on his butt and Mom waiting at the gate with a jumbo tube of Desitin ointment.

From the pathetic to the revolting, we turn to the latest installment of “Larry Hawkins’ Favorite Pickup Lines.”

The Metro commissioner recently resigned from the board of a national veterans’ group after a staff member complained that he frequently sexually harassed her and once exposed himself. The woman put her charges in a sworn affidavit.

It’s not the first time. Last year, two of Hawkins’ former secretaries told a state attorney that he’d hassled them with lewd remarks and raunchy overtures.

Although prosecutor Joseph Centorino declined to file charges, he concluded that Hawkins “may have engaged in a pattern of offensive conduct toward female staff members, including unwanted sexual advances, crude and suggestive language and conduct, all of which constituted a form of sexual harassment.”

The names of five additional women allegedly harassed by Hawkins were provided to Centorino. He gave the case to the state Ethics Commission, which is famous for doing nothing. A hearing is set Thursday.

Hawkins won’t discuss the new accusation and denies the rest.

There’s probably a perfectly logical explanation: All these womensome of whom don’t even know each otherhave banded together in a diabolical conspiracy to destroy the political career of a wheelchair-bound Vietnam veteran.

Right, Larry. And they hatched the plot in Dallas, hiding on the grassy knoll.

Being a pig around women isn’t against the law, but using one’s position for sexual intimidation is a cause for legal action. There’s nothing worse than a boss with runaway hormones, and juries can penalize such antics with hefty judgments.

For voters, the issue isn’t financial liability so much as character. Do you want a lecher on the county commission? If so, they’ll need a telephone hotline to handle the complaints.

Hawkins can deny it until he’s purple in the face, but only gullible fools would believe that several different women could misunderstand his sense of humor or concoct the same terrible lie about him.

Don’t expect the Ethics Commission to do much but ruminate. That agency was invented by politicians to investigate politicians and therefore was given no teeth.

Voters will be the ones to get rid of Larry Hawkins, or let him continue his quest for Bob Packwood’s world title.

Homestead’s sneaky deal raises hackles

December 5, 1995

A month before the final vote, Metro commissioners are catching heavy flak for their outlandish giveaway of Homestead Air Force Base.

Hundreds of South Dade residents appeared at a public hearing last Wednesday to protest the county’s furtive move to lease 1,800 acres to a group called the Homestead Air Force Base Developers, Inc.

HABDI wants to turn the hurricane-battered base into a commercial airport with shopping, offices, apartments and an industrial park.

It’s an ambitious plan, especially coming from local home builders who’ve never before developed an airport.

But these aren’t just any builders. HABDI’s principals are also big shots with the potent Latin Builders Association, whose members donate large sums to Metro Commission candidates.

HABDI’s top man is Carlos Herrera, president of the LBA. Other partners in the Homestead project include two former LBA directors and a vice president.

Their 45-year lease agreement was quietly being maneuvered through the commission when details began leaking. No sooner did neighbors begin raising objections than HABDI started braying about discrimination.

That’s what happened at Wednesday’s hearing, too. HABDI’s Camilio Jaime and others staged a walkout, charging that opposition to the airport is being led by anti-Hispanic racists.

Which must come as a surprise to project critics such as Metro Commissioner Maurice Ferre and former Miami mayor Xavier Suarez, who happen to be Hispanic.

HABDI isn’t fooling anyone. Its accusations are a smoke screen contrived to obscure a land deal that stinks.

It began when the U.S. government decided to close most of Homestead Air Force Base and turn it over to Dade County.

Oddly, the county never advertised that the base property was available to private interests. There was no public meeting, no competitive bidding.

Yet, nine days after receiving HABDI’s written proposala proposal kept secret, at HABDI’s requestMetro aviation officials offered the group a lease.

Acting against staff recommendations, county commissioners in July 1994 voted to give HABDI first dibs on the air base. Another developer made a pitch, but was rejected.

True to form, Dade officials endorsed the HABDI lease without researching the feasibility of putting a big air park in South Dade. Some question whether it can compete with a newly expanded Miami International Airport.

Another question is the risk to taxpayers, if the project flops. The agreement calls for the HABDI partners to invest a minimum of $16 million the first seven years. But most of the development moneyan estimated $500 millionwould come from other investors, still unnamed.

The county would contribute $10 million worth of roads and improvements. Meanwhile HABDI would pay no rent on undeveloped property.

County Manager Armando Vidal says he’s confident the Homestead deal is solid, and the public’s interest will be protected. Commissioners will take a final vote Jan. 11.

Many who live near the baseAnglos, blacks and Hispanics alikeare justifiably suspicious and upset. It’s not that they don’t want the place developed; they just want to make sure it’s done fairly, and with the best chance of success.

They don’t want a sneaky political deal shoved down their throats, which is what’s happening.

Time will tell if HABDI can make good on its grandiose promises for the old air base. What’s disgraceful is that nobody else is getting a chance to bid, so people in South Dade will never know if something better could have been done.

Greenpalm: A true-life tale of bugs and rats

September 22, 1996

You’ve probably heard of Howard the Duck. Now meet Howard the Rat.

That would be Howard Gary, former Miami city manager and now a star informer in the Operation Greenpalm corruption probe.

While Howard the Duck was merely a lame movie character, Howard the Rat is a true-life crook. He got caught trying to squeeze a $2 million “consultant” fee out of Unisys, a computer company seeking contracts with the city of Miami.

Unisys executives, it seems, weren’t in the mood for a shakedown, so they told the feds about the outrageous money demands made by Gary and his corrupt cohort, then-Miami Finance Director Manohar Surana.

Both men were soon visited by FBI agents, who apparently explained with excruciating clarity what lay ahead. Both Gary and Surana agreed to cooperate in the hopes of avoiding prison.

Before long, the men were wearing electronic bugs and chatting up dirty deals. Implicated so far are ex-City Manager Cesar Odio, City Commissioner Miller Dawkins, County Commissioner James Burke and other players to be named later.

Odio has been charged. Burke hasn’t. Both men claim they were set up, although they’ll have a tough time explaining some of what they say on the secret tapes.

A brief history is helpful: After being fired as city manager in 1984, Gary opened a municipal bond firm. His old chums in Dade politics steered lots of business his way, and the firm prospered. In 1993 alone, it was involved in $2 billion worth of deals nationwide.

Bond issues are a convenient way for politicians to repay favors and reward big campaign contributors. Law firms that are appointed local bond counsels receive absurd fees for minimal work. Likewise, hometown bond companies often get a juicy cut of the sales while New York underwriters do the heavy lifting.

The best part is it’s perfectly legal. Usually. The FBI and SEC have been sniffing around Dade’s queerly allocated bond packages for several years.

Gary entered the business at a time when it was finally opening up to minority underwriters. “I don’t think it’s bad getting in because of politics,” he once said. “I think it’s bad if you get in the door and don’t do your job.”

Or, say, get busted.

Once the feds had him by the shorts, Gary offered to share some tricks of the trade, Miami-style. Wearing a wire, he approached Commissioner Burke, who chairs Metro’s finance committee.

Gary offered Burke up to $100,000 if Gary’s bond firm got a piece of a major deala $183 million refinancing of Dade’s recycling plant. Sources say Burke agreed, and shortly thereafter Howard Gary and Co. was listed as a last-minute addition to the bond management roster.