In so doing, of course, Wells signed Stahl on to the notion, which Wells endorsed too. It was a nifty bit of politicking by the banker and former councilman. And finally, on July 7, the EAC provision passed by a vote of 13-2.
The next week, it was challenged again.
James Elliott
State District Judge John Creuzot played a decisive role in getting his fellow task force members to sign off on a meaningful ethics code.
Donna Halstead, a former city council member and president of the Dallas Citizens Council, was the task force's most ardent advocate for the status quo.
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The outcry came from the old guard, primarily the chamber of commerce and the Citizens Council, which bombarded the task force with a list of their objections. They predicted that a floodgate of frivolous complaints would open, and the result would be the thing they feared most: "negative publicity for the city of Dallas."
Black dutifully voiced the chamber's concerns -- and privately told task force members he still supported the EAC. The provision came under attack at each of the subsequent four meetings, and each time was upheld.
Consensus had been reached. Some members were relieved; others were concerned. The majority, however, were exceedingly proud of their handiwork. On August 18, nine of the 15 task force members attended the regular session of the city council, where their little manifesto was presented to the council members.
Behind the scenes at City Hall, armies are assembling against the proposed ethics code. Copiers and fax machines are churning out salvos designed to sink the task force's handiwork.
Within the last two weeks, the city manager's office and the city attorney have both taken aim. Monty Python could scarcely create a better parody of silly bureaucratic questions and apparent inability to use common sense. On October 28, the city attorney's office sent the task force a six-page, single-spaced, hand-scrawled list of 50-odd questions, objections, and proposed changes.
As Michael Jung noted in a memo to his fellow task force members, "I pride myself on being an obsessively detail-oriented person, and have, I daresay, exasperated each of you...[but] the [city attorney's] comments convince me I still have room for personal growth in that regard."
Last week, the city manager's office did the city attorney one better, coming up with a rambling seven-page document listing a dozen variations on the theme that the code's proposed disclosure requirements are "intrusive, invasive, and violate the privacy of" city employees and their family members. Among the more entertaining notions: that requiring top city officials to file a disclosure statement will result in loads of litigation aimed at city employees, whose net worths will presumably make them irresistible shakedown targets. The document is chock-full of silly questions, like whether city employees will be found to have violated the proposed ethics code if they are subpoenaed to give information in a lawsuit.
In an effort to respond to at least some of these salvos, last week the task force held its 33rd meeting. The circumstances were somewhat unusual. Their term has expired, and nobody, including the mayor, was willing to authorize them for one more session. But as the only natural advocates for their code, they decided it was important, so once again they piled into the conference room of the city manager's office. Despite the short notice, the meeting was well attended: Orwig, Jung, Stricklin, Birdsall, Miers, Luna, Rose, and Wells were all present.
As they worked through the city attorney's comments, the mood was considerably less optimistic than it was last spring. A number, including chairman Wells, seemed weary. As Wells noted several times, the mayor has not seen fit to send his comments to the former councilman. Wells has nevertheless offered to attend the November 17 city council briefing session in order to answer questions -- and, naturally, clear up any misconceptions.
So far, no one has invited him.
Privately, Rose explained to a number of task force members why the minority-dominated city council appears to be lining up in opposition. "He explained an aspect of this that had just escaped me," says one member. "He said, 'Now that we're in charge, you think we have to have an ethics code?'" It is an ironic tactic, since it was Creuzot's appeal to black solidarity that enabled the proposed code to pass in the first place.
The task force's painstaking compromise is looking awfully shaky now, and the members know that if they lose any major piece of it -- particularly the Ethics Advisory Commission or financial disclosure portions -- there really won't be any ethics reform worth speaking of.
The prospect of plain old citizens wielding the power to censure council members evidently is feared most.
"At bottom, I think, it's a fear of one person: Laura Miller," Orwig says. "I had council members actually say to me, 'She's vowed to get so-and-so, she'll use it politically.'"
Nor are the attacks limited to one side. As Birdsall explains, "The plan is [for Miller and Blumer] to support it as is. But if Ron Kirk or anyone else starts picking at it, [Miller and Blumer] are going to start bringing up the things they don't like."
For their part, task force members deny that their code is a half-hearted, feel-good measure. "Look," Creuzot says. "It's a conservative document. But that's OK. Dallas is a conservative town."
"What we've tried to do," says Wells, "was to put 10,000 more watts of sunshine on [government]. Because if you get enough sunshine, you don't need as much enforcement. Because you people in the press and others will be able to say, 'Lookie there.'"
In a candid moment, Birdsall sums it up cynically: "Nobody's gonna go to jail because of this thing. The worst that'll happen is maybe somebody gets to wear a dunce cap in public. But that's all this exercise was ever about, anyway."
