Gadflies

Gadfly has two main dictionary definitions; a large fly that bites livestock, and an annoying person. For anyone who has made a career out of covering small town city councils and school boards for newspapers, as I have, the second definition is the operative one.

You can see them at almost any small town meetings. They usually sit near the front, following agendas, thumbing through stacks and stacks of reports, and frequently taping meetings and conferring with their brothers in gadflyery. For some reason, in my experience they are almost all men; perhaps another sign that women stay away by instinct from useless activities.

They are, generally speaking, political wannabes, paying close attention to the local elections largely ignored by the fellow citizens. Sometimes they are failed candidates; one gadfly of my acquaintance managed to finish last in two succeeding elections in a town where the total vote was miniscule. And they are very fond of using freedom of information and public records request to their illogical extreme, paying the cost of photocopying hundreds of pages of material to mine for issues they can raise.

The state of California, where I’ve done my time in the journalism wars, is fondly protective of the species, requiring that all elected bodies provide time for public comment. Exactly how and when that time is provided is left to the discretion of local elected officials.

The speaker corps at meetings is almost always negative and frequently abusive toward officials and staff, but familiarity does breed a kind of relationship. One highly critical regular was astonished at one meeting of the Los Angeles Board of Supervisors to see one member of the board make a motion saluting the speaker’s birthday. All five members subsequently voted no on the item.

Most elective bodies take the easy way out and put the speakers on early on the agenda, which has the inevitable result of pushing back action items when the gadflies are in full swarm. One council I had the misfortune to cover would also schedule a time for council members and staff to respond to the speakers, which usually pushed actual business far into the night.

Time limits for public comment on non agenda items are generally three to five minutes in local meetings, though soft-hearted councils are known to give leeway for summations, closing thoughts and run-on sentences. High-tech additions to council chambers have led some speakers to use power points and video additions to speeches, making things take even longer.

These public spirited citizens perform for each other, the elected officials and the folks back home, possibly watching meetings on television or streaming videos. When one mayor recently moved public comment to the end of his meetings, a speaker requested a definite time be listed for when the gadflies can buzz, so his hundreds of fans would know when to tune in.

When the usual suspects line up to strike a blow for freedom and nit picking, they are only too eager to engage in a dialogue with elected officials. Most council and board members are too smart to fall in that trap, and are protected in California by rules of procedure that forbid extensive discussion on non agenda items.

Failing the chance to debate with their elected peers, the gadflies are eager to seek out members of the press, whom they can find with the skill of expert trackers. Young journalists soon learn the rules; listen but don’t talk, do accept any written materials offered, and never quote gadflies by name. Falling back on ‘city hall observers’ as a source is also questionable, since most editors I’ve known take that as the next thing to snatching a quote out of the air or the reporter’s own head. Final rule; never hand out your home phone number, which can present a challenge for freelancers with home offices.

It is a real temptation to tune out when these folks buzz along, but a mistake. Gadflies do serve a real purpose. Every extra pair of eyes checking public documents can discover mistakes and outrageous actions. And anyone who gives a reporter ammunition with which to annoy an obnoxious official is his friend. Just don’t ask me to buy him lunch.