Local official: Caught in the middle;

              The Crisis in City Government
[ THE LOCAL OFFICIAL: CAUGHT IN THE MIDDLE
We are living in uncertain times. Inflation, recession, and
climbing unemployment are front-page news. Citizen
concern mounts steadily over crime in the streets, racial
unrest, inadequate housing, educational systems in tur­moil,
and the plight of the elderly and poor.
At the focal point of this economic and social uncer­tainty
are our cities, where, battered on one side by these
continuing crises and on the other by rising public
expectations, local officials are caught in the middle. They
wear many titles—such as city council member, city or
county commissioner, or county supervisor—but their
concerns are the same whatever they do.
What is the best way to cope with municipal problems?
How can priorities be determined? Where can money be
found to do the job? Does public confidence in govern­ment
need to be restored?
To get answers to these and other critical questions,
TEMPO talked with key officials from four US local govern­ments
of varying size, population mix, and location:
• Edmund D. Edelman, county supervisor, Los Angeles
County, Pop. 7,000,000
• Earl Harris, president, Newark Municipal Council,
Newark, N.J., Pop. 375,000
• Robert Richter, alderman, Sheboygan, Wise, Pop.
50,000
• Harold F. Hunter, Jr., chairman, city commission,
Rome, Ga., Pop. 32,000
These public servants, some full time, some part time,
share one common objective: to upgrade the quality of life
in their cities and to provide the best possible service to the
public at the lowest possible cost. How well are they
meeting this goal? Their responses to the following
questions reveal some interesting insights.
, What frustrations do local officials live with on a
day-to-day basis?
Earl Harris, full-time city council president in the struggling
city of Newark, may have the toughest job of all. "A major
problem is the public's lack of understanding about the way
a city government functions," he says. "We could operate
much more effectively if we could confine our work to
1 planning and legislation, as the charter defines our job. But
people get on our backs about everything—from garbage
and street paving to stray cats—and this eats into our
precious time."
What is needed, Mr. Harris believes, is public education.
He wants to initiate a direct-mail campaign about how city
governments operate. Newspaper ads will not work, he
feels, because an influx of uneducated people in recent
years—paralleled by a middleclass exodus—has resulted in
too many citizens who can't or won't read the papers.
A rash of individuals and groups constantly camps on a
councilman's doorstep, bearing an endless variety of
causes, programs, and projects. This is as true in Georgia as
in New Jersey. For Harold Hunter, the biggest frustration is
also the lack of time—the impossibility of getting every­thing
done that needs to be done.
"Much as you'd like t o , " he says, "you can't say yes to
everything. Under Georgia law, for example, cities aren't
permitted to contribute to charitable programs." He cites a
middle- and low-income section of town which needs a
recreational facility. The city could have bought property
and made it available to a nonprofit organization on a free-lease
basis. But investigation revealed this would be
considered a charitable gift; and as a city commissioner, he
would be held personally liable. What hurt most of all, he
confides, is that he himself comes from that section of town.
Another aspect of city government distresses Sheboy­gan's
Robert Richter: the undue pressure from self-interest
groups. "The more powerful the group," he says, "the
greater the pressure." He refers to a continuing conflict
between impressive looking schools and better quality
schooling. " O n the one hand," he says, " I recall the caliber
of education that existed in some of the old, rural,
inexpensive schoolhouses. And I compare some of the big,
costly, streamlined buildings of today. It makes you wonder
at times. Are the youngsters really better off today?"
Whatever the answer, he says, it takes courage to make an
honest, objective evaluation. And it takes even more
fortitude for a public servant to stand firm under the flak
that is almost sure to result, whatever decision he makes.
The fourth official, Edmund Edelman, is now a member of
Los Angeles County's five-man board of supervisors, which
covers 78 separate cities including the city of Los Angeles.
This county is the nation's largest in both population and
government expenditure. It is the foremost example of the
fast-growing "urban counties" that increasingly admin­ister
functions associated with cities but do so on a
metropolitan scale. Prior to joining the board, Mr. Edelman
was a Los Angeles city councilman for nine and one-half
years.
"What would get to me in that j o b , " he confides, "were
the limitations of the office. I just wasn't as free as I wanted
to be to address such broad county issues as pollution, tax
reform, and transportation." Now, three months later, it is
difficult for him to make a judgment about his new job. "I
haven't been here long enough to feel frustrated. I am just
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