The Cleveland Way
Yet another study has identified Cleveland as being at the bottom of the pit when it comes to quality of life. Or as the mayor might say, the b***hole of the nation. WalletHub, a financial services website, announced this week that Cleveland residents are the most stressed in the nation. We rank first — i.e., worst — when it comes to "financial stress". We have the highest divorce rate, the second highest poverty rate, and are third worst when it comes to "health and safety stress".
Had the surveyors factored in police misconduct, we'd have been a runaway winner.
Let’s cut to the chase. Making our condition worse is that the three public issues roiling the nation right now — the economy, the pandemic, and systemic inequality/police misconduct — all weigh most heavily on black people, and Cleveland is a majority black town. So black people are out of work and without financial resources, going untested and getting sick, hospitalized, and dying from coronavirus, and soon to be evicted, on the street and subject to the whims of hostile “safety” forces organized to contain the unruly and the unwanted from invading or disrupting the peace and comfort of the mostly white enclaves that circle the urban core and its first ring suburbs.
Rank these issues — we listed them alphabetically — however you want in terms of salience. They all cry out for being addressed systemically, which means elected officials need to be part of the solution.
Cuyahoga’s most prominent public officials are county executive Armond Budish and Cleveland mayor Frank Jackson. While these gentlemen have enjoyed near-unanimous establishment support, it's hard to envision two more pedestrian and disconnected chief executives.
Budish has never embraced the idea of holding Ohio’s second-most powerful elected office — as the position was touted during debate over county reorganization in 2009. And his stature has shriveled since he so badly mismanaged the county jail in ways that contributed to a string of inmate deaths under conditions decried as “inhumane” by federal monitors. He has been effectively a lame duck for the past two year, a status unlikely to change over the next two years.
Some politicians might draw strength from being effectively immune to the voters and find courage in seizing moral high ground. Alas, Budish was characteristically timid and indecisive last Friday as he practically begged county residents to wear masks. It’s understandable that his mask edict was devoid of teeth: the county has few resources to even throw a scare into the selfish unmasked. But odds are he could have assembled several dozen area mayors to line up behind a bolder plea.
Which brings us to Frank Jackson. Frank calls me every couple of weeks, usually just before six o’clock dinnertime. His recorded voice informs me that he is about to speak to Cleveland citizens and that I should stay on the line. His tone is both intrusive and flat, so devoid of warmth and energy it’s like a declaration that he hates the imminent engagement with the people who have repeatedly voted him into office.
Frank has been either mayor or council president since the 20th century. Whatever ambition or drive or fire he might have had in 1999 has long since dissipated. He is the Decider-in-Chief at City Hall who acts on the premise that if voters don’t like what he’s doing, they can vote him out. Short of that, don’t call or petition him with concerns about a living minimum wage, or lead abatement or budgetary concerns that money should be allocated to basic human needs instead of plush digs for corporate elites [Rocket Mortgage FieldHouse, Sherwin-Williams tax breaks].
Catering to the wishes of the political donor class might be acceptable if Clevelanders didn’t have to live with these realities: a water department that mis-bills city residents, shuts off their water, puts liens on their property, and then forecloses and kicks them out; a health department that supports a resolution declaring racism a public health crisis but is itself thoroughly indifferent to its own longstanding hospitality to that very virus; a top Jackson administration official, James McGrath, who first as police chief and then as safety director [he retired last month], tolerated and condoned, and perhaps encouraged, all manner of felonious behavior from police officers sworn to protect and serve the people.
Or, failing that, in pandemic times, say maybe every hundred years or so, calling upon those fat cat friends to say, hey, we have a problem here, can you help us out by testing a few hundred thousand people so we can try and keep as many of them alive as possible?
Cleveland is justly celebrated for being home to three of the nation’s top medical systems. The quasi-public one, MetroHealth, got millions from in COVID money from the state but has yet to figure out how to test the masses.
The other two — Cleveland Clinic and University Hospitals — are huge behemoths, owners of acres and acres of tax-exempt properties, and possess such great wealth that one might think their status as nonprofit entities meant they would step forward in times of great crisis to at least test the black and brown people who live all around them.
We don’t know if the mayor has called upon these friends in times like these. We do know they have yet to step up in any meaningful way to help those most in need. And we know that no one in City Hall — not the mayor, or any of his wannabe successors on city council — have called them out for their indifference.
As we reported this past week, a few entities — some black churches, Greater Cleveland Congregations, Neighborhood Family Practice — are trying heroically to stand in the gap. Their efforts are heroic but are dwarfed by the need.
Is there one elected official willing to call out the mighty Clinic? To be sure, they would be swiftly reminded, “that’s not the Cleveland way”.
Perhaps “the Cleveland way” is why we sit atop virtually every index of misery.
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