Hurricane Hizzoner
Xavier Suarez is Miami's first "strong mayor." But is
he stable enough to use his new powers wisely?
By John Cloud
(TIME, Jaunary 19) -- Another chaotic week ends, leaving Miamians to wonder how long
before the white-suited men with butterfly nets come to take the
mayor away."
Best-selling novelist Carl Hiaasen wrote those words, but you
won't find them in yarns like Tourist Season or Strip Tease.
Instead, Hiaasen was describing the real-life mayor of Miami in
his newspaper column last month. "Mayor Loco," Hiaasen calls him.
Mayor Xavier Suarez isn't pleased with the title, and for weeks
he has threatened to sue Hiaasen and his paper, the Miami
Herald. Last week, to emphasize his pique, Suarez phoned the
Herald's advertising manager and left another warning on voice
mail: "I note that we are subsidizing you and your newspaper
with ads related to official notices of the city," Suarez
growled. Echoing a bit of cold war lingo, he then urged the
manager to "tell your maximum leader of the free world for the
publishing company [translation: Herald president Joe Natoli] to
be a lot nicer to me, my people, my citizens and my city." The
state attorney is investigating the call, on the theory that
mayors shouldn't make threats that creep up on the First
Amendment.
It all sounds like a plot twist in one of Hiaasen's novels,
tales of besmirched pols and gritty heroes in South
Florida -- "except this is the sort of behavior that if you put it
in a novel, critics would say it's unbelievable," Hiaasen says.
Second-time-around Mayor Suarez has been back in the job only
since November, when he narrowly -- and perhaps unfairly -- beat the
incumbent. (After the election, law enforcers arrested a Suarez
campaign volunteer for offering to buy absentee ballots. The
Herald and state officials have been examining other
irregularities, which could lead to a rematch.) As mayor from
1985 to 1993, Suarez was known for his thin skin, but he was
also considered a methodical leader who calmly led the city
during a 1989 riot.
When he returned to the job last fall, however, he assumed much
greater power. Miami voters had approved a "strong-mayor"
charter in September, sold on the idea that it would be a tonic
for the city's fiscal troubles and chronic corruption. Rather
than being just another commissioner, the mayor has
broad-ranging authority, including the veto.
For Suarez the added powers seem to have been too strong an
ether. Soon after taking office, he tried to fire most senior
members of the government, including a police chief credited
with cutting crime. The state attorney found the move illegal,
and the mayor was forced to agree to six months of oversight by
a local court.
In a municipality racked by scandal -- a bribery sting netted
three officials last year -- Suarez also decided to name an
indicted ally, Humberto Hernandez, as chairman of the city
commission. Hernandez goes on trial soon for money laundering
and fraud. But after the state's Department of Law Enforcement
announced an investigation into charges of vote fraud, the mayor
also appointed Chairman Hernandez to lead a counterinvestigation
into the department's investigation.
But these are merely the elements of a classic power grab. What
threatens to push Suarez into the category of Chief Executive
Weirdo is a series of loopy stunts. Around 10:30 one recent
night, he arrived unannounced at the home of Edna Benson, 68, a
retiree who had written him a critical letter. Dressed for bed
and in curlers, Benson feared a burglar and grabbed a .38
revolver. She refused to open the door, and Suarez eventually
left. At an important Tallahassee meeting in early December, he
made an awkward, inexplicable comment to Governor Lawton Chiles
about his "very famous" daughter (she isn't) and called a
prominent state legislator "Senator Cabbage." Twice. From there,
he made an impromptu visit to New York City, where he tried
unsuccessfully to persuade bond-rating firms that Miami isn't in
fiscal crisis. He also twice broke down in tears before
reporters, later explaining that his son advised him to show his
emotions.
Suarez told TIME the call to the Herald "was mostly in jest."
And he acknowledges that his personality has changed, saying
that "personal emoting" improved his family life and that he
"hopes it's helpful in the public arena" also. He has apologized
to Benson and appointed a respected fellow Harvard grad as city
manager. "In the next few weeks you will see some great
announcements about the city," he promises. And if this were one
of Hiaasen's best sellers, how might it end? "You don't want to
know," the writer says. "Not very many good things happen to the
politicians in my novels." Will real life be more forgiving?
--With reporting by Greg Aunapu/Miami
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