Message Fail

Jeffrey C. Billman tells you what to think

by Jeffrey C. Billman

Mayor Nutter, mind if I ask what you're doing this Friday evening? If you're free, some buddies and I would love to invite you to our weekly poker game. Nothing big, really: some no-limit Texas Hold 'Em, maybe some Omaha Hi-Lo — a $20 minimum buy-in. Just a friendly game, a beer or two, perhaps a cigar.

But, you know, bring cash. See, your honor, after watching your attempts at pushing through your budget this spring — if we're being honest, the $3.85 billion budget Council approved last week, is basically a repudiation of you — we've come to the conclusion that you're something of an easy mark. You either don't know how the game is played, or you're not any damn good at it. (Considering the 14 years you spent on Council, I doubt it's the former.)

See, throughout the country, budget battles in these trying times tend to follow predictable arcs. Step 1: The mayor announces that the money isn't there to do everything he/she wants, so if City Council refuses to enact Tax X, he/she will be forced to make Cuts Y through Z. Cuts Y through Z are usually draconian and have popular targets — cops, firefighters, parks, etc. This is called the bluff. Step 2: The cops and firefighters unions get livid; they argue that the mayor is proposing cuts far deeper than the budget constraints demand. This is usually true, but doesn't really matter. Step 3: Cowed by peasant mobs scared of riots on the street if the police department isn't fully staffed, City Council more or less acquiesces to the mayor's demands, and creates the new revenue streams he/she requested. Step 4: The mayor declares victory. "No one wants to raise taxes, but we are doing what fiscal prudence requires."

Consider, meanwhile, what happened in Philly: Facing a $150 million budget hole, you, mayor, went to the mat for a soda tax that was dead on arrival. It had merit as a public health issue, but its budgetary benefits were meager — $14.5 million per year — and easily subsumed by the beverage industry's lobbying campaign. Council similarly eschewed your other big revenue generator, a $300-per-house trash fee, and raised about $100 million via a commercial garbage fee, a tobacco tax and a 10 percent property tax hike.

Minutes after — key word: "after" — Council passed its budget, your office released a 14-page memo detailing the cuts you'd now be forced to make. "The $22 million reduction in the [fiscal year] 2011 general fund balance proposed by City Council will create a negative cash flow ... even though the projected general fund balance remains positive at approximately $40 million," Budget Director Stephen J. Agostini wrote.

Without that $20 million padding, your office explained, the money won't be in the bank when the checks come due. More importantly, the city is still negotiating new contracts with three of its four unions, so it needs all the cushion it can find. Thus, the document outlined $20 million in cuts: $4.5 million from the cops, $3.5 million from the fire department, $2.5 million from the libraries, $1.5 million in new funding from the Streets Department, and so on.

Predictably, representatives from the police and firefighters unions balked. Councilman Bill Green accused you of being a bully.

If only. A bully would have extorted Council's lunch money before lunchtime: At some point before the May 20 vote, you could have held a press conference, and in the most dire of tones, warned of the calamity to come. (A little exaggeration wouldn't have hurt.) As is, you're stuck in a decidedly unhappy position: Your biggest accomplishment is the city's declining crime rate; slashing $4.5 million from the police budget may pop that balloon. And God only knows why you want to re-fight the Library Wars.

The play here, I suppose, is to force Council to pass the soda tax as separate legislation. That's possible, though judging by the first go-round, I suspect highly unlikely.

You can complain all you want that Council tied your hands, but you'll own, and own completely, whatever cuts come down the pike. You'll own them because you failed to frame the budget debate to your advantage when you had the chance; by failing to make Council choose between either deep cuts or tax increases.

Now, you're alone under this sword of Damocles.

See, mayor, you played your bluff after everyone had already shown their cards. And that means you're exactly the kind of card player I want at my table.

Friday night. What do you say?

(jeffrey.billman@citypaper.net)