Just a few weeks ago, Pat Markey sounded optimistic about the first big proposal he'd be bringing forward as a freshman Springfield city councilor: a detailed ordinance, co-sponsored by colleague Bruce Stebbins, that would hold city officials to public disclosure requirements similar to those state officials must meet. Elected officials and department heads would have to file financial disclosure statements and would be barred from advocating any matter in which they had a financial stake. Anyone who lobbied city government on an issue, meanwhile, would be required to register with City Hall, making it easier to track campaign contributions that might sway councilors' votes.
Markey saw it as an important step toward restoring public confidence in Springfield's corruption-plagued city government and addressing its reputation for backroom deal-making. "It's difficult to come out in opposition to full disclosure and ethics," Markey told the Advocate back in April.
But one should never underestimate the ingenuity of certain Springfield pols when it comes to worming their way out of uncomfortable situations. On May 19, the Council killed the ordinance by a 4-to-4 vote. In the process, several even had the audacity to mount their moral high horses. They were promptly unhorsed, most prominently in a scathing Springfield Republican editorial that dubbed the four opponents (Bill Foley, Jimmy Ferrera, Tim Rooke and Bud Williams) "the Gang of Four." (Jose Tosado and Rosemarie Mazza Moriarty had joined Stebbins and Markey in supporting the measure.)
The opposing councilors, the editorial charged, embarrassed the city and "must have something to hide." The paper smacked Foley for landing a state lottery job "with the barest of qualifications," and Williams for "[writing] the book on Council flip-flopping" (charges that would have more sting, frankly, if the Republican hadn't repeatedly endorsed, and generally propped up, Foley and Williams over their long years on the Council). The paper saved its harshest words for the "muddled and ineffective" Ferrera, who "has done nothing of significance other than proving how easy it is to say and do nothing of substance but garner headlines."
Rooke—who escaped the editorial with relatively few bruises—defended his vote. He respects what Stebbins and Markey were trying to accomplish, he told the Advocate. And, Rooke added, he does little fundraising (while some councilors sock away $30-40,000 in campaign accounts, Rooke spent most of last year with a zero balance), so he's not motivated by the desire to protect a fat war chest.
But, Rooke said, he found parts of the ordinance too onerous, such as a requirement that councilors disclose business dealings with anyone with a matter before the Council. As a vice president at a large insurance agency with thousands of policyholders, Rooke said, he couldn't possibly know when any one of them appeared before the Council.
Less persuasive were the remarks of other councilors, who huffily complained that Markey and Stebbins were insulting them by suggesting public officials be bound by ethical standards. "We share a much different view of elected officials in the city of Springfield, Pat," Foley scolded Markey, before launching into an ad hominem defense of his own moral integrity.
After the vote, Markey expressed surprise that some councilors took the ordinance personally. "It didn't even enter my mind that anyone would take it that way," he said.
Still, he and Stebbins are not giving up. They hope to have a committee meeting on the ordinance so any valid concerns might be addressed. They also plan to bring it back to a vote at the Council's June 2 meeting, where all eyes will be on Councilor Kateri Walsh, who was absent from the May 19 meeting. Should the other councilors maintain their positions, Walsh will be the swing vote. And as she gears up for a potential run for state rep this fall, does she want to risk the same spanking the "Gang of Four" received from the hometown newspaper?
