This is an opinion column.
They paved paradise
And put up a parking lot
—lyrics from “Big Yellow Taxi” (Joni Mitchell)
Paradise. Not sure the word can be associated with Birmingham—not right now, at least.
There’s too much distrust. Too much pettiness. Too much opacity. Too much territorialism. Too much insecurity. Too much fear. Too much (just speaking truth, y’all) ignorance.
Too much this is how we’ve always done it.
Just too much.
Right now, and at least for the next few weeks, the chasm between the two words - paradise and Birmingham - is about the size of, oh, a parking deck.
Six of them, frankly. Six city-owned parking decks (five downtown, one on the Southside) that might be sold to a group of rich folks headed by one of the area’s richest—Shipt founder Bill Smith—for at least $41,375,000.
Might because the very idea of the sale has touched off a storm of tension at City Hall, embarrassing and unnecessary tension.
Tension that abruptly interrupted a special called meeting of the Birmingham City Council Monday evening.
Birmingham Mayor Randall Woodfin wants to sell the decks — more than half of the 11 parking structures owned by the city and managed by the Birmingham Parking Authority, one of the city’s many public boards the public rarely thinks about, if ever.
He believes the sale is manna from above—it at least partly fills the city’s projected $63 million COVID-19 caused revenue shortfall in FY21. He’s repeatedly promised to spend proceeds on “neighborhood revitalization” and restore some employee furloughs, salary reductions, and paid holidays lost to budget cuts.
City Councilor Steven Hoyt doesn’t want to sell the decks. Adamantly doesn’t want to do so. Before the interruption, as the council addressed an unrelated matter (the settlement of a dispute between the city and Crossplex Village developer Bob Nesbitt in which the city would retain an undeveloped portion of the area in exchange for a $200,000 cash payment), Hoyt, speaking in support of the developer said, “This is why you don’t sell property. Once it’s gone, it’s gone. If we’d sold [the CrossPlex), we wouldn’t be here.”
Tension between the mayor and the long-time District 8 councilor isn’t new. Nor is it surprising—we are, after all, on the precipice of citywide elections next year.
During a previous council meeting, the two men had, shall we say, a moment as the mayor handed documents to each council member—finishing at Hoyt’s seat on the far right of the dais where the moment ensued.
On Monday, the air in council chambers was already testy as the discussion of the parking sale began.
“Let’s just respect each other,” Council President William Parker had already said before the mayor started handing out decks on the proposed sale to councilors. This time, he stopped shy of Hoyt, circled back, and handed the final deck to Council Administrator Cheryl Kidd, ostensibly to give to Hoyt.
And go…
Hoyt was clearly agitated by the slight.
Parker (motioning his left hand towards a stirred Hoyt): "Hold on, hold on! Let’s all take a deep breath here. Mr. Mayor, if you could please provide the information to all the council members, sir. Mr. Mayor, I’m asking. Let’s do that, please.
Woodfin: “The last time I tried to give him something there was a whole scene.”
Parker: "I promise you it won’t be one. It [won’t] be one.
Woodfin: “It was a whole dramatic scene.”
Parker (after slamming gavel to the desk): “Guys c’mon on! Come on, now! Please!”
Hoyt: “He just lied.”
Parker: “Mr. Mayor. Mr. Hoyt.”
Woodfin hands the deck to Hoyt and turns away.
Hoyt: “Sit down little boy.”
Yeah, you don’t direct that word to a Black man,
Woodfin turns back toward Hoyt.
Parker (waving the mayor towards the other side of council chambers): "Mr. Mayor, go back over there. [I’ll] address that. Mr. Mayor, go back there. Please go back there. Councilor Hoyt, you were out of order with that remark. You were out of order.
Hoyt (in Minister Hoyt tone): “Well!”
Parker: “Mr. Mayor on behalf of the council…”
Hoyt: “I’m right here.”
Parker (slams gavel again): “I’m talking councilor!”
After a bit of back and forth, Hoyt says to Parker: “You can (bang) that thing all night. Hit it until you lose weight. If I have something to say, I’m gonna say it.”
Parker: “Okay, Mr. Hoyt. Mr. Mayor, I apologize for that.”
Paradise lost. Over parking decks.
Cooler tones prevailed after a 20-minute recess.
Where the council collectively stands on the sale is not yet clear. Many wonder if the proposed sale price is high enough (city officials say it’s 12 percent higher than a 2018 appraisal of the six decks) and whether the BPA is maximizing taxpayer return.
The 11 decks generate $5 million annually, according to financial data given to city officials by the authority. Since 2017, based on the city’s analysis of the data, Birmingham has netted an average of $1,037,434 from BPA. That includes the first nine months of 2020.
Some councilors expressed concerned Monday that the BPA, which opposes the sale, appeared reluctant to provide city officials with financial details of his operations.
“That is public information and shouldn’t have to be requested,” said Councilor Hunter Williams.
One BPA concern is the potential loss of jobs under a new owner (Smith has promised to retain current employees). The other is the loss of future revenue as this ratchet Covid-19 economy diminishes.
“Our ultimate concern is the long-range effect this is going to have on the city,” says board vice-chair Heagar Hill. “In the long run, the city will have more funds than they’ll get out of this one-time sale. The city is going to lose.”
Or perhaps be at least somewhat closer to paradise.
Unafraid to start uncomfortable conversations, Roy is a voice for what’s right and wrong in Birmingham, Alabama (and beyond). His column appears in The Birmingham News and AL.com, as well as in the Huntsville Times, the Mobile Register. Reach him at rjohnson@al.com and follow him at twitter.com/roysj