Saltaire Summery
By Hugh O’Brien

All my friends in Arizona are complaining about their drought. They should come here, where the ducks on my property have applied for a building permit, the place has become such a second home to them. Whether a domicile or a residence, I do not know.

Memorial Day weekend’s weather couldn’t have been better, hot and beachy and a fitting end to the off-season, the promise of a pleasant summer to come—an outcome the eager anticipation of which lasted about four days, till last weekend’s incessant downpours. For a while Friday night it looked like the parking lot was going to follow the ferries crossing the bay. Not even the clear skies promised for Sunday materialized. All of which went far to explain why so many of you elected to forego the trip down last weekend and hold out for better things next week, while those who did brave the inclemencies finally opted off early on.

Ah, well, it’s not like there was yet much on offer. Saltaire in early June is nearly as sublimely deserted as it is in January, only with warmer temps and more refrigerators being delivered. Indeed, most of the real summertime action won’t start for another few weeks, leaving us a breathing space until next issue (out the weekend of June 24) to begin a timely recitation thereof.

(I’ve been reading too many legal documents over the last year.)

A couple of brief interim notes, some repeated from last time… Twice-weekly refuse collection begins this coming week, Monday, June 12, with pick-ups Mondays (Tuesdays if there’s a legal holiday, like Bobby Chinkel’s birthday) and Thursdays, the latter the only day for junk and brush collection. Consult your environmentally correct green Refuse placard for detailed information, and remember, we call it “refuse” in this community, not “trash” or “garbage,” because of our innate refinement and sophistication: a class act all the way. A compliment we can’t refuse.

The Post Office unseals for its short summer fling Friday, June 23, just in time to close again for the weekend—who makes up these schedules? That same Republican political hack from Missouri who declared that NYC and DC contain no national landmarks?

(Which reminds me: Homeland Security did decree our water tower ball a “State and/or Local Treasure” and has allocated 65 cents a week for Mario to peer out his window every twenty minutes to make sure it’s still there.)

Summarily Summarily

Well, if you’re inclined to complain about the mail, you may do so post-haste because next day, June 24, the Board of Trustees holds its next meeting, at which various matters of summary justice and summery approval will be summarily discussed and, we trust—we are, after all, trustees—be summarized and acted upon.

In case you missed word from the May 29 meeting, this will include discussion and possible—possible!—not promised—passage of a temporary suspension of our no-night-bike-riding ordinance for the duration of this summer, probably affecting only Lighthouse, Broadway and Bay, with the usual safety caveats always in force (lights, slow speed, ring bells, etc.).

The input received from so many in attendance at the last meeting has caused major changes in the proposed law, so your participation is needed and appreciated. Also to be discussed is our proposed, revised, new and improved chapter regarding (and named) Building and Construction.

Typically, this received little comment on May 29, in contrast to night biking, but then, it wasn’t a violation of the bike rules that precipitated an avalanche of entertaining lawsuits over the past 11 months, so maybe our priorities need some rethinking.

Which brings us, finally, to our election results and assorted aftermaths, Vol. LXXVII, or whatever. First, the election itself:

As announced at the May 29 meeting and posted about the bulletin boards and website before, Mayor Scott Rosenblum was reelected with 90 votes; in the Trustee race, both Bruce Rich (78 votes) and I (86) won. This was the first completely unopposed municipal race in nine years, and the first since 1992 wherein both trustees and the mayor all ran together unopposed. Of course, the arrangement made to have Bruce drop off the ballot voluntarily added a novel wrinkle to an already unique situation. Bruce withdrew to bring an end to the lawsuit that had already disrupted the election process and disenfranchised 40 or 50 of you (since no absentee ballots could be sent out without the ballot questions settled, and the very few—five, I think—that were sent had all to be discounted).

In fact, this supposed action in defense of democracy not only cost people time and money—not only the candidates, but ordinary voters as well—but was the principal cause of a suppression of voter registration and turnout, initiated by people whose own voting qualifications were no better—and in many cases, more dubious—than those whose rights they challenged. But more on this in a moment. Back to the results...

As longtime observers of the local political fray well know, Saltaire has achieved something of a statewide reputation for the number and kind of write-ins that frequently make their appearance on voters’ ballots. And electoral crises notwithstanding, 2006 did not disappoint – two write-ins for mayor, 13 for trustee. (A few ballots with and without write-ins were disallowed because they were improperly marked or filled out.) In all, only 100 votes (exactly) were cast – a significant drop from the 220-230 or so who voted in the past four elections, and even in many earlier races. Lack of competition contributed its share to that low vote, as did that Friday’s rainy weather (the one bad day that weekend).

Anyway, the votes kind of grouped up in the usual identifiable categories. There were those in the “Hey, the election just wouldn’t be the same without his name written in” category, like, and basically limited to, Harry Baker (his usual one for mayor, and a bonus two for trustee this time). Well, we can add Bruce Kahler’s write-in for trustee to this category, too. There’s the “Who the heck is that?” division, filled this year by a trustee vote for one Diane DeLaPava. Mystery solved: she’s the sales representative for the new defibrillator sought by the Fire Dept. Just another random coincidence, of course. There’s the “Gee, I wonder who could possibly have cast these votes” group, this year represented by four votes for Noel Feustel for trustee and two votes for their ally Mac Hill, one for mayor and one for trustee. There were the tribute votes to former officeholders, in this case Liv Hempel and Jim McCann (one trustee vote each). And last but certainly not least, there was the canine vote, and the shocking news from election night:

No Votes For Pal!

Well, let’s be very specific. There actually was one vote cast for Pal. Unfortunately, it was on a ballot disallowed for other reasons, and so cannot legally be counted as a Pal vote. Not that this has been the only Saltaire election to go Pal-less, but it is much more usual to find him, God rest his soul, among the list of vote recipients than not.

What makes his absence from the final count most telling, however, is that he seems to have been succeeded by another of his type, if not breed—Zappa T. Obre. Two votes for trustee. That’s more than Pal usually received. Equal to Harry. Okay, who wrote in Pal and screwed up their ballot so that it had to be disallowed? We could have had a record for the number of dogs voted for if Pal’s champion had only exercised more care. There was in addition some lament that another locally famous four-footer had been overlooked in the voting booth, the late and honestly lamented Mandu, the Wonder Cat. Though whether a vote cast for him using other than his full, complete, entire name— Katmandu—would have been counted under our stricter strictures is open to question.

Of course, any place that more or less regularly features counted votes for animals and the deceased, not to mention deceased animals, is certainly a place worth governing well. From the actual victors to all of you, our thanks for your support—not only at the ballot box, but even more importantly, in the scores of messages, calls, letters, and above all personal meetings we’ve all gotten, expressing your thanks, understanding, and solidarity with this village: of which we are only the most recent in a long line of temporary custodians.

Finally, a comment relating to those expressions of support, or more accurately, the primary reason why so many people have been so kind and forthcoming to those of us in the village administration. Even on a resident-depleted day like last Sunday, there was a lot of talk about the front-page article in the Long Island section, on Saltaire and the lawsuits lodged against us. (Non-LIers who missed it can surely find copies amongst those who were here.) I will not get into the minor factual errors it contained, or various of the comments made, except this one: the description of the members of the Board as “a bunch of bullies—big peas in a small pod.”

I’ve never observed intra-pea bullying, and so cannot comment on podular polemics or legume litigiousness. But bullies? A stupid remark, unfounded by any fact, and reflective of the insincere motives behind and lack of merit to the series of claims filed against us. So let’s talk about the sort of things that make a real bully. A bully has no regard for others. A bully lives to wreak havoc. A bully thrives on stirring up divisions. A bully can dish it out, but takes offense and cries loudly when he thinks he’s attacked. Typical of a bully’s attitude is the remark made by one party present at the Supreme Court hearing in Riverhead the day before the election: gesturing to all those who had been pulled away from their lives in service of a losing cause, this person remarked, smirking, “Well, at least we forced them to come all the way out here for this.” This is called standing on principle.

Bullies destroy; thinkers create. Which is why, in the end, all this is more saddening than maddening. People have a choice.

They can attack or they can work constructively, use their talents to help their community, stand for something positive, make others’ lives better, build things, improve lives and enjoy the gratitude and esteem of their neighbors. So as far as analogies go, forget about fresh peas. This is much more a case of sour grapes.