Aaron E. Wicks

Rochester, NY (April 8, 2008) -- Rochester Mayor Robert Duffy must be every grandmother's dream. He's respectful, hard working and so very handsome. Just the type of young man you brag about to the girls at the weekly mahjohng game. And like every good grandson, Duffy hates to offend anyone. But rather than promise the world to everyone -- and later breaking those promises -- he waxes poetic about the small things and minimizes the threats from the big things. Grandma loves the Mayor because he brings her a nice flower he picked from his yard and does not trouble her with the bad news of the world. Surprisingly, though, the mayor delivered the bad news to the entire family on Monday night: the city needs to scale back services -- or else.

Duffy being Duffy, the medicine came only after a great deal of sugar. Following the lead of virtually every other executive who has given a "State of" speech, Duffy described the state of the city as "strong." Such an assessment is purely subjective; it would be pointless to quibble over such a characterization. But the steady decline of Rochester's population, the stagnation of the city's tax base and the creeping spread of poverty to all corners of town gives the word "strong" a curious definition.

With a freshly-applied coat of Teflon, Duffy then used a familiar rhetorical device to dissuade the prospective naysayer: tarring all criticism as defeatism and thereby undermining any criticism of his plans. He urged Rochesterians not to listen to the "[d]ivisive voices telling you that everything is bad and focusing on how hard the solutions are." This sentence is a fascinating piece of oral chicanery: the first clause is inherently false due to its extreme claim (no one reasonably could argue that everything is bad). The second clause is entirely valid (the solutions are going to be hard), but Duffy delegitimizes those who discuss those hard solutions by lumping them in with those who think everything is bad. Voilà, Smugtown Bobby meets Slick Willie.

With respect to some of the city's current fiscal challenges, Duffy chose some interesting metaphors. Police overtime -- an expense that has been widely reported for its impact on the city budget (and also its impact on senior officers' bank accounts) -- is described as "an investment." To most, an investment is a resource allocation made by choice, with a reasonable expectation of return over the short- or long-term.  In the case of Rochester, the allocation was a choice only in the most literal sense: generally speaking, one would not consider police overtime to be an investment in the future of a community. To the contrary, Rochester's "investment" -- while wise, given the circumstances -- is truly more a stopgap. But what good grandson would dwell on such negativity.

Another act of subtle insincerity was Duffy's claim regarding the city's funding of the school district:  "I do not intend to cut school aid by a single penny." The statement is a wonderful stand against harming the educational future of Rochester's children, but it is equally devoid of substance. The reality is, the mayor cannot cut city aid to the district due to state law mandating a "maintenance of effort" by the city on behalf of the schools. Yet what makes this statement insincere is the fact that last year -- and this year -- Duffy has lobbied Rochester's state legislative representatives to have that language removed from state law. Why would one want such a mandate removed? Precisely to permit future reductions in funding support. But do not expect Assemblymen Gantt, Morelle or John to come forward to "out" the mayor on this subject -- their political fates are tied to his. Even their political bumbling has its limits.

Interestingly, the mayor simultaneously touted the implementation of his "Rochester By the Numbers" management system in virtually the same breath as a slew of polling data that indicate the satisfaction of Rochester residents with the state of the city. Where the former utilizes objective, quantitative measures to chart progress, the latter is a subjective, point-in-time and -- truth be told -- uninformed measure of the city's status. In a bizarre twist the mayor's staff apparently overlooked, he provided objective data that indicated an improving public safety environment side-by-side with polling data that showed a dim assessment by the city's residents. Does this imply that the public's other, rosier opinions are equally off the mark? More importantly, should the mayor be governing by the results of a public opinion poll?

To his credit, after sowing a saccharine streak a mile long, the mayor finally got to Rochester's indisputable challenge: a looming budget deficit that can only be resolved through higher taxes, reduced spending or some combination of the two. Duffy wisely recognized that no present solution involving higher taxes could be defended. First, the city is verging on maxing out its constitutional taxing authority. Second, the city's fleeing capital will not be enticed to return through higher taxes. But ruling out a tax increase requires spending cuts -- cuts that are often equally unpalatable to residents.

Here Duffy has begun speaking the language of fiscal responsibility: consolidation. The Smugtown Beacon has long advocated consolidation of local government services as a means to reduce tax burdens and provide more efficient services to residents. Duffy's commitment is admirable indeed. But what will make this State of the City address truly memorable will be if it hearkens a new era of broader debate about consolidation, including that most sensitive of subjects: consolidation of city and county schools.

After the dulcet tones of this address, do not expect the truly difficult words to come until residents have first been subjected to a level of flattery that would make Eddie Haskell envious. The mayor has begun to make the medicine go down; the only question is how long his supply of sugar will last.