By Michael E. Miller
By Ryan Yousefi
By Kyle Munzenrieder
By Sabrina Rodriguez
By Michael E. Miller
By Carlos Suarez De Jesus
By Luther Campbell
By Kyle Munzenrieder
Fortunately, the commissioners still have a very short window in which to try something. The state law won't take effect until July 1. The situation called for radical action.
So it was that late in the evening of April 11 the commission chambers at city hall turned into a war room. "We have to move from a peacetime footing to a wartime footing," Commissioner Art Teele declared to administrators, industry lobbyists, and a few members of the general public. The commissioners then proceeded to pass, unanimously, several emergency ordinances, one of which instructed city managers to set up as many code enforcement tribunals as necessary to bring hundreds of billboards to justice before the July 1 deadline. They ordered administrators to proceed immediately with "all" billboard cases, using "all available resources."
Among those resources is one of the biggest guns the city has in its arsenal of police powers: the "special master." Similar to a judge, a special master presides over zoning cases involving multiple violations of one kind, in this instance citations against billboards. The appointment of even one special master is rare. In their war room resolve, however, the commissioners authorized the use of as many as necessary to process cases before the state law kicks in.
"This city cannot afford to let an industry take it over like this one has done," Commissioner Teele proclaimed. "Hire ten law firms if necessary!" he instructed assistant city attorney Joel Maxwell. At press time, the Code Enforcement Board had appointed four special masters, all private lawyers. They are scheduled to hold hearings on billboard violations five days a week from May 22 to June 28.
How did commissioners, administrators, and the city they serve fall into this predicament? After all, many of them had been aware of the billboard insurgency since March 2000, when New Times first reported that a countywide law allowing "a maximum of ten" billboards along expressways that run through Miami had been grossly violated ("Everywhere a Sign," New Times, March 23, 2000). Instead of ten, there are at least thirty-one along stretches of I-95, I-395, and I-195 in the City of Miami. Here it was two years later and the city had failed to eliminate a single illegal billboard. Worse, one week earlier Gov. Jeb Bush had signed the pro-billboard legislation, which was part of a transportation bill. Under this new state law, every time city officials want to enforce local ordinances to dismantle a billboard they will have to hold time-consuming negotiations with billboard executives, enter into relocation agreements, and use public tax dollars to compensate the outdoor advertising companies. (Twelve of Miami-Dade's state house reps supported the billboard measure. Only one, Carlos Lacasa, voted against relinquishing local power in favor of an outlaw industry. Seven others abstained. One of the seven senators from Miami-Dade backed it.) In short, the state law will provide an endless source of ammunition to bolster the three prongs of the industry's strategy: delay, delay, and delay.
Just prior to voting on the emergency measures, the commissioners had heard firsthand about that strategy from Eston "Dusty" Melton. Melton, a 48-year-old native of Virginia, an Eagle Scout (literally), and a former Miami Herald political editor, casts himself as an honest lobbyist in a town where that term strikes many as an oxymoron. For several months last year he had represented his client, Eller Media, and the other billboard companies as a fair industry. Eller Media (now Clear Channel) had hired Melton in April of last year to persuade commissioners that billboard executives were finally willing to begin discussing a plan for the removal of illegal billboards. And Melton had succeeded in gaining time for additional negotiations.
But tonight the lobbyist's message was quite the opposite. "On behalf of my client," he said, "I convinced this commission [in early May 2001] because I believed that the industry had realized the errors of its ways and was going to come to the table and negotiate in good faith.... Three months later for the first time in a twenty-year career I quit a client as a matter of conscience. Because I sat in their meetings and concluded in three short months that I had lied to this commission because my client had lied to me."
Moreover, Melton said, no debate over expressway billboards, much less the present war, should ever have taken place because a conflict over them was honorably settled in 1985. That was the year the Dade County Commission banned billboards from expressways throughout the county, except for the "maximum of ten" in Miami. Melton was the central lobbyist among those who somehow persuaded a majority of county commissioners to accept the ten-billboard compromise. "Not a single [expressway billboard] was built in this city from 1985 until just about two years ago," Melton said. "Why? Because the entire billboard industry was at the table to reach the compromise in the summer of '85. And they knew that no [more] signs could be permitted because you weren't allowed to even ask permission. The entire local industry was part of the compromise ... the political accommodation, whatever you will." It was an "absolute, lifetime prohibition against more expressway billboards throughout the county, including in this city."