by Carl Hiaasen
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 deal—a $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.
Burke insists he didn't get, or ask for, any money. But he conceded: "There were some conversations which I shared with [Gary] that there was something I wanted … some things we were going to do together. They were personal."
Translation: It might sound like a bribe on tape, but it's really just two guys, talking about guy stuff.
Howard the Rat's role in the blossoming scandal is particularly odious because of the way he's traded on his firm's status as minority owned. His crookedness is a slap in the face of every honest black businessman who's tried for a public contract.
Ironically Gary probably wouldn't be in trouble if he'd been content with the fortune he's making with bonds. But no, he had to go try a $2 million rip-off of Unisys.
It's nothing but greed, which remains a serious character flaw among rats. That's how they always get caught.
Take over city; commissioners won't notice
December I, 1996
With Miami auguring toward bankruptcy, state authorities are poised to snatch control of the city's mucked-up finances.
But Gov. Lawton Chiles made a strategic mistake by announcing his intentions ahead of time. He easily could have seized Miami's reins without forewarning the city commissioners.
They'd probably never have noticed.
When it comes to taxpayer money, these characters are so dependably inattentive that they wouldn't know what questions to ask, much less of whom.
For years the cookie jar was controlled by the slippery-fingered duo of City Manager Cesar Odio and Finance Director Manohar Surana. Unfortunately, neither fellow demonstrated the fiscal expertise to manage a Crandon Park hot-dog stand, much less a $275 million budget.
They were able to hold their jobs mainly because the politicians who hired them remained, conveniently, uninterested in simple arithmetic. As long as a few bucks were left lying around for pet projects, commissioners were content to let Odio and Surana juggle the numbers.
Evidently they took advice from the distinguished accounting firm of Deloitte, Cheech and Chong.
For example, the city for years failed to collect millions of dollars in overdue lease payments. In real-estate parlance this is called "getting stiffed by your tenants," a technical concept that someday may be explained to the commission.
It took a bribery scandal and a slew of felony indictments to reveal that Miami is sinking into a $68 million sludge pit of debt. Wall Street seems ready to downgrade the city's bond rating to "J," for joke.
Bottom line: If something drastic isn't done immediately, Miami will run out of dough in March or April. That could mean no cops, no garbage pickup, no firefighters, no pay.
So the commission, faced with the gravest crisis in its history, of course has done zilch. Commissioners continue to balk at doubling garbage rates, which would gain a few months of solvency.
Under Florida law, the state can take over a city that's going down the tubes. A special oversight committee can be appointed to handle its finances in an emergency.
That's what Miami Mayor Joe Carollo wants, and no wonder. It'll get him and his pusillanimous pals off the hook. Let somebody else hike fees and take the other painful, unpopular steps necessary to save the city.
The commission's lack of spine provides more ammunition for Miamians seeking to have the municipality dissolved. While those petitions circulate, Gov. Chiles should move ahead swiftly with a state takeover of the budget.
And there's really no need to notify the commission. Nothing would have to change down at City Hall.
Commissioners can continue to hold regular meetings, just as they do now. Pass a few meaningless resolutions. Honor a few good Samaritans. Name a few streets after their campaign contributors.
Somebody can even jot down the minutes. Televise it, too, just for giggles.
Carollo can continue as make-believe mayor. Ed Marquez can be the make-believe city manager. As a lark, somebody can even serve as make-believe finance director.
And the rest of the commissioners can sit on the dais and pretend they're doing a job, pretend the city is in good hands, pretend somebody honest is handling the budget.
The same as they've been pretending all along.
Only this time they officially won't have control of the taxpayers' money.
But if nobody tells them, it'll probably take years before they figure it out.
So, ssssshhhhhhh.
Miami's fiscal crisis: Look at the bright side
December 5, 1996
An Open Letter to America from the City of Miami:
As everybody knows, our city is in the throes of a financial crisis. The media coverage has been so gloomy that tourists, newcomers and investors are being frightened away.
It's time to clear the air, set the record straight and take the bull by the horns. The bad news: Miami is so broke that the state of Florida has stepped in to try to stave off bankruptcy.
The good news: Our days of harebrained spending, bumbling management and corruption are temporarily over, because there's basically nothing left to waste, misspend or steal.
Heck, we're in the hole by 68 frigging million bucks—who'd try to rip us off now? Which brings up the first of several ugly misperceptions that must be addressed.
• Misperception 1: The entire city is corrupt.
Flatly untrue. Not one current Miami commissioner or administrator is under indictment, house arrest or the regular supervision of a parole officer—a record we're darn proud of.
Most city employees are honest and hard-working, except for a few deadbeat relatives and cronies of politicians. So what if there's an ongoing criminal investigation. Don't tell us the FBI never body-wired any informants at your city hall!
• Misperception 2: The city infrastructure is a disaster.
To begin with, "disaster" is a relative term. Miami hasn't been flooded by a hurricane or leveled by an earthquake. Most nights it's not even on fire.
And if it was, we've still got plenty of skilled firefighters on the payroll, at least until March or possibly April.
• Misperception 3: The city is a dangerous place to live.
Oh, come on. If Miami was so unsafe, would Madonna and Sly Stallone own homes here? No way. Not eve
n with their high-voltage fences and beefy bodyguards.
And don't forget Pat Riley. He could've coached an NBA team any place he wanted, but he chose Miami. Why? Not just because of the incredible contract he got, but because he wanted to be in a city that offered his family the very finest selection of high-voltage fences and beefy bodyguards.
• Misperception 4: The city is unsafe for visitors.
Contrary to what you've heard, the streets of Miami haven't been overrun by gangs and drug dealers—well, most of the streets haven't. Pat Riley's, for example.
And we've still got hundreds of experienced police officers on the payroll, at least until March or possibly April.
• Misperception 5:The city is a risky place to invest money.
Once more, "risky" is an awfully broad term. Perhaps you just like adventure. Maybe there's some riverboat gambler in your blood. Come on down and take a chance on Miami.
Given the negative publicity, it's understandable if major corporations and commercial investors are apprehensive about the city's ability to provide basic services, such as garbage pickup.
Be assured we've got some of the most efficient garbage collectors on the whole Eastern seaboard, at least until March or possibly April.
• Misperception 6: The city is about to be abolished.
Again, the word "abolished" can mean so many things. Remember that Miami is more than just arbitrary boundaries on a road map—it's a state of mind.
Say, for the sake of argument, that the city charter is dissolved. The magic wouldn't die. Miami wouldn't suddenly disappear. It would still be right where it is today, smack dab between the airport and the beach.
Which means you suckers still have to drive through the place, regardless of what happens in March or April.
Suarez's act won't play on Wall Street
December 4, 1997
Miami Mayor Xavier Suarez is in New York today, still trying to convince Wall Street that the city is in tiptop shape. Before he comes home, he should drop by Bellevue for a checkup.
Because the mayor is either certifiably nuts or seriously under-medicated.
In only a few short weeks, he has single-handedly managed to undermine both Miami's image rebuilding and its fiscal recovery, which were well under way before he took office.
First, Suarez dumped the well-regarded city manager, Ed Marquez. Then he declared war on the state oversight board that essentially had saved Miami from bankruptcy.
No wonder Moody's Investors Service, an important bond-rating firm, warned that the mayor's actions "have introduced significant uncertainty" about Miami's future, and "could disrupt or even reverse [the city's] recent progress toward fiscal recovery."
The firm added: "There does not appear to be any financial experience at the helm right now." In other words, the inmates are running the asylum.
Suarez's transformation from a reasonably bright, thoughtful guy to a babbling fruitcake has been both astonishing and sad to watch. Erratic, impulsive and imperious, Suarez has morphed into the delusional loner we once predicted of his predecessor, the tightly wound Joe Carollo.
Ironically, it's Carollo who has behaved for the last year like a grownup, making levelheaded decisions and cooperating with the rescue panel appointed by the governor.
Meanwhile, Suarez campaigned on the theory that the city's $68 million budget shortfall was fabricated for political purposes by Carollo, abetted by the state, this newspaper and other nefarious interests. Never mind that capable, independent persons who examined the city's books concurred that disaster was imminent.
Once elected, Suarez strolled into City Hall and began firing people. More incredibly, he talked of lowering taxes, a rather unorthodox approach to a cash shortage. He didn't even show up at the last commission meeting, choosing instead to hunker in Nixonian seclusion inside his office.
With each new day, Suarez gets loonier and Carollo looks more like Alan Greenspan.
The mayor's paranoid rant is playing poorly in all venues north of Flagler Street. He got a frosty reception in Tallahassee this week when he tried to convince lawmakers (one of whom he bizarrely addressed as "Senator Cabbage") that Miami doesn't need any more help.
As proof, Suarez proudly pointed to the city's current $13 million surplus—money, he might have added, that exists only because of cost-slashing measures imposed by the oversight board.
It takes a certain type of person to boast about somebody else's hard work, then try to get rid of them. A crazy person is what it takes.
As shown by Moody's preemptive strike, Wall Street will be an even tougher audience for the mayor. His conspiracy theories are bewildering enough, but wait until he tries to explain his choice of Humberto Hernandez as chairman of the City Commission.
As a rule, legitimate bankers and brokers shy away from accused money launderers. Suarez's appointment of the federally indicted Hernandez has done nothing to inspire Wall Street's confidence.
In fact, you'd have trouble finding any experts who would heartily recommend investing in Miami. Even before the election, the city's general obligation bonds were considered "junk," with an anemic double-B rating from Standard & Poors.
But don't underestimate Mayor Suarez. By the time he's finished campaigning, Wall Street could be inspired to create a whole new category for Miami bonds: Triple D, for deranged.
Breakthrough at City Hall
August 16, 1998
An otherworldly event occurred Friday at Miami City Hall. Commissioners actually did something brave.
OK, "brave" is overstating it. But they did do something—proposed raising fire-rescue fees, garbage fees and the millage rate, with a novel goal of balancing the budget.
A big question is whether the commissioners are serious or faking it. As Miami spirals toward insolvency, they've done little but bicker, posture and stall. They are decisive only on the issue of when to meet again, for further bickering, posturing and stalling.
Another question is whether the proposed fee changes add up. Experts will be double-checking the city's accounting methods, which are often highly creative.
In July, the governor's Financial Oversight Board got another five-year recovery plan from the city, and found it so defective as to be insulting.
For example, Miami had included among projected revenues $3.2 million in federal grants that hadn't been approved by Congress. Another whimsical entry was $1 million from a lease that hadn't even been signed.
Members of the oversight board couldn't contain their frustration. Still, the commission's three biggest wimps—Willy Gort, J. L Plummer and Tomas Regalado—continued to grandstand as champions of regular folks who can't afford to pay more for trash pickup.
What they really can't afford is more bad theater at City Hall.
Last week's vote was a result more of intimidation than courage. After a year of bewilderment, ineptitude and cowardice, the commissioners knew time was running out.
Gov. Lawton Chiles appears ready to stop the carnival, and is empowered to suspend the whole bunch. Monday is the deadline given for a new plan.
Faced with losing their jobs, commissioners reluctantly recommended doing what analysts have long advised—raise fees to enhance cash flow (cash being somewhat necessary to pay police, sanitation workers and other municipal employees).
The city says the higher rates would cost the average Miami homeowner an extra $92 in fiscal 1999, rising to about $181 by 2003. It won't be popular with residents, who already pay hefty taxes for mostly crummy service. But the alternative is worse—chaos and decay, if the city goes broke.
It's possible that Miami's budget has been a hoax for so long that nobody at City Hall remembers how to put together a real one. When Cesar Odio was city manager, he and his crooked budget chief, Manohar Surana, would fill gaping holes in the ledgers with silly made-up numbers.
And it worked for a while, because commissioners could be relied upon not to ask many questions. It took a corruption scandal to reveal th
e extent of deficit scamming.
The Securities and Exchange Commission is investigating whether the city fictionalized its finances on three bond offerings. The SEC is wondering how Miami "balanced" its 1995 books by listing a $9 million lump sum of U.S. crime-fighting funds—money that in fact would be distributed incrementally over several years.
Other unusual projected revenues included $3 million from the sale of fill for which nobody had offered a penny.
Today the game's over, and Miami's slag-heap bond rating elicits giggles on Wall Street. Investigators might be encouraged by talk of raising municipal fees, but remember that Friday's vote was preliminary. Commissioners have plenty of time to chicken out.
In which case Gov. Chiles should act swiftly to rescue Miami's long-suffering residents by decommissioning the commission and putting the city in responsible hands.
Stormy Weather
Tis the season some builders get generous
December 16, 1987
Once again it's that merry season of the year when contractors all around Dade County are racking their brains and wondering: What do I give the building inspector this Christmas?
Good news! Cash is "in" again, and it's perfectly safe—judging by the courthouse results of that big Metro police undercover sting.
Posing as a county inspector, detective Alex Ramirez collected almost $6,000 from builders in just four months. Driving from site to site in West Dade, Ramirez seldom got through a day without somebody slipping him wads of money, food, fine wine or a bottle of booze.
Typical was this exchange between the undercover cop and a building foreman, recorded by a hidden microphone:
Ramirez: "You know, you don't have to give me anything."
Foreman: "No, I don't have to give you anything, but in life, don't I leave a tip when I eat in a cafe or a bar?"
