Hoppy's Commentary for Friday

The mayors from West Virginia's cities and towns seemed in unusually high spirits. 

Perhaps it was the air at the mountaintop Snowshoe Resort in Pocahontas County where they had gathered for the West Virginia Municipal League summer meeting.

Or it could have been the sweet guitar serenade by House Speaker Rick Thompson during the Wednesday night mixer around a roaring bonfire.

But maybe it was the fact that cell service is so spotty at Snowshoe that the mayors were, for a few hours at least, not directly connected to the myriad problems they face in their communities.
This was the third time I've been invited to join the Municipal League meeting and I'm really warming to this bunch.  Generalizations are dangerous, but here's what I've found about many of the mayors I've spent time with.

They are generally non-partisan.  Oh sure, most belong to political parties, but they don't spout the party lines.  I've interviewed many of these mayors a number of times and their party affiliation just doesn't come up.  Mostly, they just want to "fix things." 

They love their towns. They really do!  Each wears his or her civic pride on their sleeve and talks proudly of "my town." 

While they want to fix problems and make their towns better, they are also willing to say "no."  Municipalities cannot print money or borrow to pay operating expenses.  Therefore, the best among them are practiced at explaining to citizens why something cannot be done because the city doesn't have the money.

They will take your calls.   Good mayors--I think there are many in West Virginia--will answer the phone.  Most tell stories about the calls after hours and on the weekends about, well, almost everything.

One mayor told me about an angry man who called him at 3 a.m. saying his wife had just been arrested during a domestic dispute and if she went to jail, he was going to "own this town."

Another said a constituent called to say that he thought his wife was cheating on him and asked if the mayor could have the police follow her (the mayor declined).

Yet another said she got an angry letter from a Washington, D.C. resident who had visited her town complaining about an eight dollar parking ticket. 

Potholes, storm drain flooding, speeding motorists, barking dogs, prowling cats, broken tree limbs, parking tickets.  There seemingly is no end to the list of community grievances that find their way to a mayor or member of council.

Now, that's not necessarily a bad thing.  Mayors and council members are closer to the people than any other level of government.   People should be able to reach their local elected representatives, voice a concern or complaint, and get a reasonable response. 

Taxpayers want and deserve certain services from the government.  Unfortunately, a wildly expansive federal government has helped foster the notion that every problem has a government solution.

It doesn't, of course. Politicians on the federal level are often reluctant to repeat that truth, but mayors--particularly those in smaller towns--don't have the luxury of buffaloing the public.  It's too easy to find the local mayor.  You know where he lives. You see him at the store, at church or walking down the street. 

John Hickenlooper, who was the mayor of Denver before being elected Governor of Colorado, said, "A mayor is a symbol and a public face of what a city bureaucracy provides its citizens."

The mayor is out in front, and not just when the ribbons are cut and the TV lights are on.  Their plates are already full, with everything from broken sidewalks to faltering police and fire pension funds, but they also have another responsibility:

They have to listen to their townsfolk, fix what they can and be honest when they can't.  The best ones in West Virginia, who can somehow manage to do this with reasonable cheer, help sustain our faith in the belief that government does actually work.