THE DRAMATIC SEARCH FOR RICHLAND ELECTION CONTROVERSY
The Free Press October 23, 2003

There’s an election coming up on November 4th. Right here in Richland Township. Oh, yes, yes, in the rest of the country too, but with the excitement already over in California, who cares? ‘Tis the season to hear LOCAL promises and protests, platforms, and politics.

This is the time of year we columnists live for - intrigue, dirty tricks, sign-stealing, last-minute charges concerning events of 20 years ago that miraculously have just come to life again. Ceiling bugs. Flagrant distortions. If you want to see how down-and-dirty the human race can get, watch the last two weeks before an election. Some campaigns need to hire gardeners to handle all the mud-slinging.

But not in little ol’ Richland Township, Bucks County, PA. We have stumbled upon a way to avoid those embarrassing questionable revelations and endless campaign rhetoric. Actually, it was The Free Press that discovered it. The nonsense stops when the free press stops. The unlimited free publicity too often given to candidates, no matter how big the lie.

The Free Press set a deadline of the end of September for free press. One month before the election. And if you don’t think it made a difference in attitude, just look back at the editions before and after. Rabid political letters have been replaced with letters of...well, not much. A little school board, a little George Bush, a little Iraq. But election-motivated charges about the irradiator, development, YMCA, and fitness for office have dropped off the public’s radar. With no free publicity, candidates are far more restrained. Hasn’t it been nice?

Well, nice for YOU maybe, but how about me? I have a job to do - stir up the community pot. Reveal the secrets. Cut through the bull and answer the inquiring minds. Please, God, give me a campaign issue to write about this week.

Aha, here’s the place to look - the regular meeting of the township Board of Supervisors. Everyone, even non-residents, are permitted to speak here. Protesters get their say. Three local newspapers send reporters, drowsy after a full day of work, and hoping for something exciting to keep them awake, or maybe even move their story to Page One. If I’m lucky, it might even get rowdy. Maybe someone will lose his temper and say something printable. Its election time!

Eureka! The agenda is long, and the room is packed. Worried developers, impatient attorneys (and even more-impatient clients, paying $200/hour), democrats, republicans, police and fire personnel. People clutching large files that just scream controversy. The familiar faces of political opponents. And Josie Ahlum, who always has her finger on the pulse of township needs. Oh, this is gonna be good!

We move right into public comment. Great! Unlike most other events, here the fireworks come first. Maybe I’ll get a real bonus - a juicy story, and home in time for Monday Night Football. Speaker number one, step up and sign in, please (they really do that). Shazzam, its Josie! You go, girl. What’s wrong tonight? Nothing? A few simple questions? And a hearty thanks? Come on folks, you have to do better than this. Its election time!

Next speaker. Wait...this isn’t a protester. It’s not even politics. It’s a man, which soon becomes two men, asking about repaving in a subdivision. The original developer died, a new one took over, and someone needs to fix the road. Magically, the attorney for the new developer is there to negotiate a settlement, and promises the work to be completed in two weeks. It’s not high drama, but after a half-hour the subdivision residents go home happy. Not me.

Speaker number three has a fine British accent. He starts off by warning the board that he would like Yes-or-No answers to a few questions. The chairman smells a problem right away, and suggests that a single word may not be enough. Turns out, he’s oh-so-right. Thirty minutes and a dozen complex questions later, there has been a complete recap of state law regarding advertising of applications to the township, mostly answered by the Richland solicitor. Zzzzz. Heads are starting to nod, and I have bupkis.

Jolly good, he’s done. Time for the real action. Next speaker. Er, next speaker, please. Dead silence. No complaints. No protests. No politics. Earth to everyone, there’s an election in a few weeks. And I have a column to fill. A little cooperation, please.

OK, here’s a guaranteed explosion - the naming of a new Emergency Management Coordinator! Surely the friends of the previous one, who was fired, will be raucous about this. Come on, hit us with your best shot! Give me liberty or give me death. I regret that I have but one life to give. Die, pigs! Sigh. Nothing. Nada. I check the audience for signs of life.

I am grasping at straws, because I show some interest in a power point presentation demonstrating that Richland will save $1.1 million over the next 10 years as a result of a $47,000 study of all township assets, down to the stop signs and notepads. The three-inch thick report is filled with spread sheets and graphs, a great tool that very few municipalities have undertaken. An accountant’s dream. But a nightmare for someone looking for controversy. It’s hard to argue with this kind of detailed long-range planning, and no one does. One reporter leaves, then another.

The rest of the meeting is business as usual. The evening which began with such promise ends without even a hint that an election is imminent. No opposition, no incidents, no raised voices. Not even a good quote. Oh good grief, what will I write about this week?