You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy.™
Someone trying to play you.
I asked for an interview with the mayor. His handlers all but shut me down.
I was downtown, and he was the introductory speaker at an event.
His handlers asked me why I was there.
Because I want to interview him, I respond.
What about?, they said with an air of contempt.
About the sidewalk issue in south Nashville, I said succinctly.
I wanted his reaction to the death of a father of three killed by a hit and run driver, Sunday night.
Didn’t you talk to the public works department spokeswoman, the mayor’s handler said again indignantly.
Why would I call the mayor’s office if I wanted a comment from the Public Works Dept.
I called the mayor’s office for a comment about no sidewalks and a man’s death. The mayor runs this city, not the lady who runs the communications office for public works.
The woman looked at me with anger in her eyes.
I looked at her with fire in my news soul.
I told her I needed that quote yesterday.
She then proceeded to tell me that she didn’t get me the quote I distinctly asked for because, as she said, I didn’t ask her for one.
Huh? I’ve only been doing this my whole damn life. I think I know when I call the mayor’s office and ask for a quote and give you all day to get me one, that I know what I want and I know when I want it.
I listen to her explanation of how I apparently was unclear in my wishes.
Oh really? I glare at her knowing she is not trust worthy, hardly transparent, and probably very good at the policy of CYA.
Not on my watch layd.
I’m here to talk to the mayor because you didn’t do your job yesterday, I said. If need be I’ll let him know that. Go cover that!
And so it goes. I’m resolute that the mayor will end up on my air today one way or the other. He’ll either stand before the camera and look mayoral or he’ll be running and ducking into his sedan like a squirrel. Either way.
Anger. Tension. Resentment. All part of a newsman’s lunch hour.
The mayors SUV arrives. His handlers brief him on presumably what an ass-**** I am.
The mayor crosses the street and I greet him with a smile and a hand shake.
I tell the mayor I need a minute of his time and I ask him a simple question that he handles with political aplomb.
The mayor is sagacious and professional. Sidewalks after all are a big part of his political platform.
I in return was quick and courteous.
The handler sniped on her way into the building. “You wont give us credit for this, but we could have run the mayor in the back door of the building.”
I sneered. Yeah they could have done that. But had they made me
wait, I might have brought the news hounds of hell down on them.
What goes around comes around ladies.
This conflict with the handlers dates back years ago.
The mayor was one of a handful of candidates who was sending unsolicited materials to voters who didn’t want campaign literature stuffed in their mailboxes. Many of these candidates were bombarding people with robo calls, around dinner time. I was being flooded with angry calls from viewers.
I called all the candidates to get their perspective on this aggressive issue and I let them know that their tactics were pissing people off.
Many of the mayoral candidates spoke to me.
The current mayor’s handlers were campaign advisers then. They told me the candidate had no comment and was not in and could not be bothered and blah blah blah.
I hung up and then proceeded to drive down to the campaign headquarters, uninvited. Sort of unsolicited like a bunch of campaign literature shoved in someone’s mailbox.
I walked in and one handler in particular was in mid chew of a ham sandwich.
My camera man pointed the camera at her and I started asking questions.
She was chewing and it was obvious the line of questioning was ill timed, for her.
She put up her hand and tried to swallow. We just kept asking if this was an intrusion at her lunch hour.
Sort of like your robo calls at a citizen’s dinner hour, I said.
It was a classic segment, one people talked about for years.
She was pissed. Oh well, that’s life.
That mayoral candidate ended up winning the election and that handler became an important point person in the administration.
I was black balled. Needless to say, I have not interviewed the mayor once and this is now his 2nd term.
I’m a crime reporter and it is seldom I need to talk to the mayor, but there have been times when I politely asked or a comment from city hall on a variety of issues including taxi cab licensure, and homelessness and fake police badges.
I either don’t get a call back or I get shoved off to another department, like public works for a comment I never wanted.
Sort of what happened Tuesday. Well this time when I got disregarded, I decided to remind them who I am and how I roll.
I think they got the point.
Do the handlers hate me? who gives a rat’s ass.
Does the mayor respect me? Who knows? He should. I treated him with journalistic professionalism and kept him only as long as was needed.
His presence in my story showed his citizenry that he cares about the issue and the family of the dead man.
I will most assuredly call the mayor’s office again for something. And if they stone wall me again, well I know where the mayor works.
After all he works for we the people.
You got that ladies? Good.
And that is crazy.™