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Wilkes knew that if either Carey or Range prematurely discovered his effort to recruit Teele, there would be political hell to pay. "These were private conversations," Wilkes says of his closed-door meetings with Teele and many of Miami's other black pastors. "We had to keep it quiet. We already knew who the heavy hitters were supporting and we knew that they would oppose us and do everything they could to keep us from getting the one man who could really help the African-American people."
But there was another problem. According to Wilkes, Teele wasn't interested in running. "He was reluctant," Wilkes says. "He felt let down after the county's strong mayor race. He was discouraged by that. But we met with him and made clear the feelings of the community. We felt like we needed someone with experience to represent the African-American community, and someone who would have the know-how to get things done."
"The ministers came to me," Teele recalls, "and basically said to me in very plain terms that they expected me to run. They said that they had supported me in the past when I needed their help, and now they felt that this was such a dangerous time for the black community that I had to support them by running."
Two weeks ago, on election night, Rev. J.C. Wise of the Mount Pleasant Missionary Baptist Church echoed that view, comparing Teele to Moses and claiming that he was elected to help deliver black Miami from disaster. "Thank you for helping us in this crisis," he told Teele.
"I certainly don't see myself as a Moses, and I'm not comfortable with that characterization," Teele would say later in an interview. "But what it does show is that there is a sense of doom that is pervasive throughout Miami's black working-class communities."
"It was the people who wanted Art," Wilkes says. "They wanted a more charismatic figure."
Since Teele's loss to Alex Penelas in the mayor's race, the black community has been without a standard-bearer. No one in the past year has been able to fill the vacuum. During that same time, blacks throughout the county watched warily as Penelas assumed the position of strong mayor, while the county commission -- with four of its thirteen seats filled by blacks -- languished miserably as it tried to sort out its place in this new form of government. In the City of Miami, long-time commissioner Miller Dawkins went to prison after his conviction on federal corruption charges. His replacement, Rev. Richard Dunn, lost a special election earlier this year to Humberto Hernandez, leaving the commission without any black representation.
"It just seems that blacks are the forgotten voice," says Wilkes. "And it is leaving feelings of frustration and helplessness and hopelessness. I think Art is one of the people who will be able to cross that void and demand the respect of the people in power. He is one of the most polished politicians in the state of Florida, and he knows how to get things done."
Implicit in Wilkes's statement is the idea that the current batch of black politicians has not been able to get things done, a failing that also explains why so many opposed Teele. "These politicians feel threatened by Art," Wilkes says, "because they know he can build a power base." And Teele's strength has little to do with the position he now holds -- if the county commission were the major leagues, then Teele would be the political equivalent of Double-A. His district as city commissioner is vastly smaller than the one he represented as county commissioner. As chairman of the county commission he held considerable sway over how that body allocated more than four billion dollars each year. Now he is a commissioner in cash-strapped Miami, whose annual budget is less than $300 million.
But Teele understands the bully pulpit better than anyone, as was evident on election night. He renewed his pledge to make the redevelopment of Overtown his highest priority. "We must not let Overtown die," he exhorted. "Overtown must be restored. It must be brought back to life. We are going to make Overtown great once again. And we have a message for those who have taken part in the raping and the pillaging and plundering of Overtown in the past: Get your hands off Overtown! We will raise an army. After tonight we are looking for volunteers in Art's Army. We will restore Overtown and we will take no prisoners." The small crowd roared its approval.