Kick Ass: Selected Columns of Carl Hiaasen

As a rule, legitimate bankers and brokers shy away from accused money launderers. Suarez's appointment of the federally indicted Hernandez has done nothing to inspire Wall Street's confidence.

In fact, you'd have trouble finding any experts who would heartily recommend investing in Miami. Even before the election, the city's general obligation bonds were considered "junk," with an anemic double-B rating from Standard & Poors.

But don't underestimate Mayor Suarez. By the time he's finished campaigning, Wall Street could be inspired to create a whole new category for Miami bonds: Triple D, for deranged.

Breakthrough at City Hall August 16, 1998

An otherworldly event occurred Friday at Miami City Hall. Commissioners actually did something brave.

OK, "brave" is overstating it. But they did do something—proposed raising fire-rescue fees, garbage fees and the millage rate, with a novel goal of balancing the budget.

A big question is whether the commissioners are serious or faking it. As Miami spirals toward insolvency, they've done little but bicker, posture and stall. They are decisive only on the issue of when to meet again, for further bickering, posturing and stalling.

Another question is whether the proposed fee changes add up. Experts will be double-checking the city's accounting methods, which are often highly creative.

In July, the governor's Financial Oversight Board got another five-year recovery plan from the city, and found it so defective as to be insulting.

For example, Miami had included among projected revenues $3.2 million in federal grants that hadn't been approved by Congress. Another whimsical entry was $1 million from a lease that hadn't even been signed.

Members of the oversight board couldn't contain their frustration. Still, the commission's three biggest wimps—Willy Gort, J. L Plummer and Tomas Regalado—continued to grandstand as champions of regular folks who can't afford to pay more for trash pickup.

What they really can't afford is more bad theater at City Hall.

Last week's vote was a result more of intimidation than courage. After a year of bewilderment, ineptitude and cowardice, the commissioners knew time was running out.

Gov. Lawton Chiles appears ready to stop the carnival, and is empowered to suspend the whole bunch. Monday is the deadline given for a new plan.

Faced with losing their jobs, commissioners reluctantly recommended doing what analysts have long advised—raise fees to enhance cash flow (cash being somewhat necessary to pay police, sanitation workers and other municipal employees).

The city says the higher rates would cost the average Miami homeowner an extra $92 in fiscal 1999, rising to about $181 by 2003. It won't be popular with residents, who already pay hefty taxes for mostly crummy service. But the alternative is worse—chaos and decay, if the city goes broke.

It's possible that Miami's budget has been a hoax for so long that nobody at City Hall remembers how to put together a real one. When Cesar Odio was city manager, he and his crooked budget chief, Manohar Surana, would fill gaping holes in the ledgers with silly made-up numbers.

And it worked for a while, because commissioners could be relied upon not to ask many questions. It took a corruption scandal to reveal the extent of deficit scamming.

The Securities and Exchange Commission is investigating whether the city fictionalized its finances on three bond offerings. The SEC is wondering how Miami "balanced" its 1995 books by listing a $9 million lump sum of U.S. crime-fighting funds—money that in fact would be distributed incrementally over several years.

Other unusual projected revenues included $3 million from the sale of fill for which nobody had offered a penny.

Today the game's over, and Miami's slag-heap bond rating elicits giggles on Wall Street. Investigators might be encouraged by talk of raising municipal fees, but remember that Friday's vote was preliminary. Commissioners have plenty of time to chicken out.

In which case Gov. Chiles should act swiftly to rescue Miami's long-suffering residents by decommissioning the commission and putting the city in responsible hands.

Stormy Weather

Tis the season some builders get generous December 16, 1987

Once again it's that merry season of the year when contractors all around Dade County are racking their brains and wondering: What do I give the building inspector this Christmas?

Good news! Cash is "in" again, and it's perfectly safe—judging by the courthouse results of that big Metro police undercover sting.

Posing as a county inspector, detective Alex Ramirez collected almost $6,000 from builders in just four months. Driving from site to site in West Dade, Ramirez seldom got through a day without somebody slipping him wads of money, food, fine wine or a bottle of booze.