Curses, foiled again. There goes another attempt to rescue City Council from itself - crushed by the Queen City Special, a train to Laughingstock, Clown Town and Oblivion.
And Dudley Dowrong (as usual) was City Council. Nell pleaded with council to put the Charter reform on the ballot anyway. But council members found excuses to do nothing. Change is threatening. Change is scary. Change is different.
I've only been here six years, so I was foolish enough to believe the latest shock therapy for City Hall had a chance. Unlike a strong-mayor reform defeated by voters a few years ago, it did not lobotomize the city manager. But it would have improved the most dysfunctional city government outside of Baghdad. Instead of tossing the mayoral Milk Bone to the best vote-beggar among two dozen council candidates, future mayors would have to chase that office one-on-one, and tell us what to expect if they caught it.
It made sense. But the petition-passers were shocked speechless when Inspector Finney found sloppy math, incorrect dates and other errors, and accused them of ''fraud.''
It's easier to picture Aunt Bea as a streetwalker than to imagine election fraud by folks in Cincinnatus, who can get choked up over a city charter.
But never mind. Republicans and Democrats who can't squander $500 million on stadiums without fighting like Lost World reptiles, suddenly found something to agree on: Democrats want Charter reform with partisan primaries for their union friends to manipulate; Republicans fear anything that might threaten term limits, and their irrational hopes to take over City Hall when the meter expires on three Democrats and a Charterite in 1999.
It turns out this story is older than orange barrels in Cincinnati. The same thing happened in 1971, when the Lingle Committee, led by retired Proctor & Gamble executive Walter Lingle Jr., came up with a plan to merge the city and county by expanding the Hamilton County Commission with two or four seats from city districts.
The group started at 400, then whittled to a mere 40. Members cogitated for a year, then submitted a blueprint for a public vote. It almost happened. But at the last minute, politics killed it, and Mr. Lingle found out it is easier to sell Crest to a caveman than to sell new and improved government in Cincinnati.
Too bad. We need a regional government more than ever. The latest failure means council will continue to slip into senility, emerging now and then from its jibbering confusion just long enough to sue someone or foul up anything that's working right.
How bad is council? Democrats who rule City Hall face term limits that will kick them out of the best jobs most have ever had. Yet none dared to apply for more power and higher pay by running against a rookie Republican county commissioner next fall.
They proved again on Tuesday why their bumper stickers are seldom spotted outside city limits. The same Democrats who criticize Republican ''fat cats'' played bagman for Bill Clinton, spending tax dollars to block traffic and line the streets with cops, so the president could sponge a million dollars at a private dinner hosted by lawyer - contributor Stan Chesley - without even a public ''thanks'' to Cincinnati.
Meanwhile, Republicans laugh and watch City Hall implode. They own the county. They might even win a few seats on council (in their dreams) if they can find anybody who actually wants one.
But nobody wants to step into that tar pit, and the people who are stuck there can't get out.
So do-gooders looking for a rescue from the Sarajevo at City Hall can go to Nell - and wait for the next train.
Peter Bronson is editorial page editor of The Enquirer. If you have questions or comments, call 768-8301, or write to 312 Elm Street, Cincinnati, Ohio 45202.
BRONSON ARCHIVE
