Congrats, Mayor Nutter!

(Now let's show him what he's won...)

by Tom Namako and Doron Taussig

Good morning, Mr. Mayor.

Yeah, we know you're not technically mayor yet, that you still have an election to win, and blah, blah, blah. But you know what? We're going to go out on a limb, risk the potential infamy, the "Dewey-defeats-Truman" notoriety, and call this thing. You're the mayor. And it's time you started thinking like it.

When you walk into Room 215 this January, the wave of optimism and expectation that's carried you since April is going to crash into a hard reality: Philadelphia. This is a city teeming with angry children; overrun with guns; and struggling with an infrastructure, both physical and municipal, on the brink of collapse. Sure, there are some positive signs (the continued revitalization of Center City, for instance). But you're not going to get away with overseeing further gentrification and calling it a success. Philadelphia has come to a point where minor victories aren't enough. At the end of the day, you're going to be judged by how well you deal with this town's toughest problems.

What we've done here is create a list of some of the actual challenges you're going to face in your first year in office. For some of these problems, you've put forth plans; for others, we've made suggestions. For others still... well, we don't know what to tell you. We certainly wish you luck.

• BEFORE YOU PICK OUT OFFICE FURNITURE

It's fine to spend electoral campaigns talking about big ideas, grand plans and, of course, "vision." But in reality, you're not going to get to do much of anything before you sit down at the negotiating table with the city's four municipal unions, whose contracts expire in June 2008.

The bad news here is that the negotiations don't figure to be pretty. The Daily News reported in March, "Within five years, the city of Philadelphia will be spending more than one of every four of its tax dollars on what used to be called 'fringe benefits'" — pensions and health care. You can't afford to maintain this rate, and if you don't win some concessions, your hands will be tied by budgetary constraints for your entire first term. But the unions have said they don't intend to accept any benefit cuts — good bennies are practically the point of a public-sector job — and the last thing you want in your first half-year is a public-sector strike that shuts down the city you promised to make work better. The situation is so dire that it's been compared to what Gov. Ed Rendell faced when he first took office, when Philly was on the verge of bankruptcy.

Which brings us to the good news: If the situation is being compared to what Rendell faced, that means that, for all the warnings of municipal apocalypse, Philadelphia has been here before. Before he retired, union leader Thomas Paine Cronin told us that the impending fight was "déjà vu all over again."

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Of course, things won't go exactly as they did in 1992. Rendell took a hard line with the unions and won wage freezes, cuts in holidays and sick days, and changes in the administration of workers' health plans. You're going to be looking for further savings in health plans — according to the Pennsylvania Intergovernmental Cooperation Authority (PICA), you'll want to implement programs, such as smoking cessation courses, to keep your workers healthy, and might have to ask for increased co-pays for medical care. You'll also want to consider making changes to how Philly calculates pensions for incoming employees.

One other thing worth mentioning here: Philadelphia's public-sector employees' generous health and pension plans are not necessarily a bad thing. The City of Philadelphia is the biggest employer in the city of Philadelphia. It behooves you to keep 27,778 public employees and 33,500 retirees comfortable. Yes, you should look for concessions in these negotiations. But not more than you need to.

• YOUR LOOMING ALBATROSS

You could persuade the city sanitation department to work pro bono. You could bring tax rates to historic lows without cutting services. You could suit up on Sundays and play left tackle, protecting Donovan McNabb. But none of it would matter unless you bring down the homicide rate.

In your campaign, you've called Philadelphia's violence epidemic a "black genocide." "If this were happening in another country," you said, "the U.S. would invade." And you're right! The homicide rate is unconscionable, not just because of the 400-odd lives it's been claiming in each recent year, but also because of the way the killing spirals: It kills the victims, it kills their families, it kills their communities. Even the people who previously thought that homicides had nothing to do with them are starting to see it leak out into their neighborhoods. It's killing the city.

Making progress on this issue is the most important job you have. And it doesn't just mean having fewer murders — we're on track for that right now. It means bringing homicides to a level that's consistent with our population. Look at it this way: There were 590 homicides in New York City last year, 184 more than in Philly. New York, though, has a population more than five times our size.

You've announced plans to declare a crime emergency in our most violent neighborhoods on your first day in office. That will enable police to enforce curfews, limit large gatherings on the street, and reduce car traffic through those areas. Then you can get into your larger-scale ideas, like installing thousands of security cameras, funding violence-reduction programs, and figuring out a way to use federal or state funds for 500 more patrol officers.

All of these things are politically doable, and you have a mandate to do them. Once you do, you just have to sit back and pray it all works.

• THE OTHER ALBATROSS

This one is connected, by a vicious cycle of dysfunction, to the first albatross: our education issues. In the primary, you differentiated yourself from your opponents by pointing out the boondoggle that was the state takeover of Philly's schools, and campaigned in favor of local control. "This issue of who's in charge really needs to be addressed," you said. "Technically, the governor of the commonwealth of Pennsylvania is in charge of public schools in Philadelphia ... I think Ed Rendell is a little busy."

This angle worked, except that now, you have to follow up. You acknowledged in the campaign that Philly can't actually regain formal control of its schools unless Harrisburg passes legislation relinquishing it, which seems about as likely as John Street signing up to be your chief of staff. Instead, you're going to have to focus on exerting informal influence: weighing in on the selection of Paul Vallas' successor, figuring out how you want various city agencies to relate to the school district, lobbying for a better funding formula. You'll probably want to start these discussions with a modicum of civility, but don't be afraid to go negative: Because you opposed the School Reform Commission from the get-go, you have more room to slam it than Mayor Street ever did.

• NO. 1 ON YOUR TO-NOT-DO LIST

Look, don't give a no-bid contract to your former employer Econsult. Don't repay some obscure debt owed to Carol Ann Campbell from your days running the 4th District. Don't hire one of your old buddies from the Convention Center board for a cushy no-work job in City Hall.

You ran your campaign on a message of transparency and ethics — hell, one of your plans laid out your "ethics policy amid challenges to ethics reform in Philadelphia." The message inspired supporters from across the city by establishing a relationship of good faith. The fastest way to blow this political capital would be with some questionable act of nepotism. Learn from the past administration and avoid embarrassing scandals.

• THE INQUIRER INVESTIGATION YOU SHOULD AVOID

Though many don't realize it, the Department of Human Services is connected to crime prevention — not to mention educational improvement and economic development. The $600 million agency is charged with protecting children, strengthening families and, in short, addressing our many social ills. For you, time spent on DHS issues is like an investment in the homicide rate for 2015, your final year in office. 

Last year, the Inquirer launched a series castigating DHS for failures both in individual cases and in systemic structuring. The paper's coverage sometimes seemed over-eager to create a scandal, but succeeded in uncovering myriad mistakes and a system that was far from optimal. It sparked a process of — well, of not ignoring DHS anymore. Commissioner Cheryl Ransom-Garner was fired and replaced by Arthur Evans, the talented head of the Department of Behavioral Health. He set out to modernize the agency, assisted by recommendations made by a mayoral panel.

But while embarking on the road to reform was a good thing, it's the destination that counts, and there are obstacles in DHS's path. For one thing, the agency experienced what some call a "foster care panic" during the Inquirer series, in which the number of children taken from their families by social workers increased dramatically. The effects of this influx into the foster system have yet to be fully realized.

More broadly, there's always a risk with DHS that the agency will be forgotten. Its successes never make headlines, and its failures do only when a child dies on its watch — something that happens too often, but still only about 10 times a year over the past five years, far less than the daily homicides that get laid at the feet of the Police Department. Our advice to you: Treat DHS like it matters. Meet with your commissioner regularly, talk to experts from all over the ideological spectrum, from Richard Gelles to Martin Guggenheim. Make sure that the reforms recommended by the Child Welfare Review Panel get implemented, and then talk to in-the-trenches social workers to find out how they're working. What you don't want is to get a call from the Inquirer 10 months into your term, asking for a quote about a "troubled" agency you haven't even thought about. John Street had to give his "no comment" while walking into a chess lecture.

• ONE WAY TO PROVE YOU REALLY LOVE US

The city's infrastructure has been under years of strain. Fire stations, police precincts, health clinics, rec centers, streets, bridges, water mains and trash trucks — all might not hold up much longer. According to PICA, the city spends about $60 million a year on building and facility improvements; the City Planning Commission says that number should be close to $185 million. You need to strike a balance. 

There is money around to get this done, but like all funds in Philly, it won't be there for long. The city has tens of millions of dollars in its "fund balance," the year-to-year surplus for projects that need cash.

You might not have incentive to put this money toward capital improvements, because no one really gets credit for fixing structural damage in a police precinct. Mayors would much rather pump the money into very visible projects, like improving business corridors and funding theaters.

Last year, Councilwoman Marian Tasco passed a bill — twice, one before and once again after a Street veto — that would pump $30 million extra into infrastructure improvements. Instead of using it, says PICA Director Rob Dubow, Street put the money into flashy projects like improving small businesses and the arts. Fed up, council said last Friday that they want to sue Street for defying them.

Dubow says that while those projects need money, too, it was at the expense of the city's bricks-and-mortar. "We likened it to this: The city had a leaking hole in the roof," he said, "and instead of repairing that hole, we put an addition on to the house."

So when your aides ask what you'd like to do with this kind of surplus in your first budget meeting, you've got the answer. These repairs will only become more costly in the future, and you don't know if the cash will be there to fix them. Do it for us.

• THE CAMPAIGN TALKING POINT YOU SHOULD FOLLOW UP ON

Back during the primary, when some reporter, in an attempt to be profound, would ask about your "vision" for the city, you tended to do a riff about civic pride, centered on a spiel about Fairmount Park. 

"We have a 9,200-acre park system," you said. "People should be talking about Fairmount Park in a way that is very different, and at least comparable to Central Park."

It was a good spiel (there's a reason you got elected), but here's the thing: We liked it so much, we actually want to see it happen. In your first year, there will quite possibly be a referendum on a charter change to fix the way Fairmount Park is governed; you should use your bully pulpit to support it. You've also said that you think the Parks' budget should be increased from the current $13 million to around $50 million. Quite frankly, we don't know how you intend to quadruple the Parks' budget while cutting taxes and beefing up the police force — it's going to be tempting to abandon this lovely talking point come budget time. Which is why we think you should utilize your new platform (and proven fundraising prowess) to make Fairmount Park a philanthropic cause. Think about it! It's the kind of thing people with money get behind (a la Gross Clinic, not a la school district deficit). And you'll never have to stand up and explain that you're closing a firehouse to plant some new trees.

• THE PROBLEM THAT HASN'T GONE AWAY

The prison system here, like others around the country, is sucking up millions of extra taxpayer dollars because of overcrowding. It's time to control this spending by focusing on the single best solution for it: employment.

Overcrowding isn't new. The city's budget masters wrote in 1998 that "the most serious problem facing the [prison system] over the coming years is the possibility of a further increase in its inmate population and the resulting financial impact on the City."

Well, that "possibility" is a reality. The inmate population has risen from 5,600 to 8,800, and PICA says that costs for the system during the same time frame have doubled to more than $200 million in 2007.

The most costly problem is health-care payments. In 1997, about $3,100 would cover an inmate's medical costs; today that price tag is $5,800. This doesn't include prison workers' overtime pay, food-service costs, and the upkeep of two rapidly aging facilities.

You recently touted your prisoner-re-entry program at a City Council hearing, and it was well received. You cited an Academy of Natural Sciences study that found the best way to keep people from returning to jail is to give them a job. Not every employer is willing to do this. Your plan to give up to three years of $10,000 tax breaks to any employer who hires an ex-convict is much better than the current one-year, $5,000 incentive to do the same.

There are dozens of recommendations floating around for how to deal with overcrowding: use more electronic monitoring equipment, increase probation and parole officers, and move cases through the court system faster. These are all good ideas. But you shouldn't just sample from a smorgasbord of plans. When you become mayor, you'll have to lobby City Council to back your re-entry program, and then you'll have to make sure it's fully funded and works smoothly. Any additional programs can come later.

• THE PROBLEM THAT'S COMING BACK

For a while there, homelessness seemed almost quaint — an urban fashion from the '80s and '90s, like headbands or Reebok Pumps. Sure, Philly's park benches were never empty at night. But compared to 1997, when the number of homeless people in Center City topped 800? That number fell to 130 in 2004, thanks to an economic upturn and a concerted effort to deal with the problem. In 2005, Mayor Street felt so confident about his success with the issue that he held a press conference announcing his "10-Year Plan to End Homelessness." 

Well, don't look now, but for the past two years, Philly's homeless population has been creeping back up. Last summer, it was recorded in the 500s, and some advocates believe it climbed that high again this year. No one is entirely sure why all of the city's progress on this issue suddenly snapped into reverse: It could be higher housing and energy costs, and it doesn't help that the city can't find any communities willing to accept a homeless shelter as a new neighbor. But this is for certain: You do not want to be the mayor who lets homelessness make a comeback.

People who worked in Center City in the mid-'90s remember it as a profoundly unpleasant time, and your vision of a bustling downtown that serves as the economic engine for the city is not compatible with squeegee men, panhandlers and the transformation of the Benjamin Franklin Parkway into a campground. Homelessness, remember, is not just a pragmatic problem, but also serves as a symbol of the decency and livability of a city. It's precisely the kind of problem that got paid no attention in the campaign, but could quickly become a predominant theme of your administration.

• THE ACE (OK, MAYBE FACE CARD) UP YOUR SLEEVE

SEPTA emerged from years of budget troubles this year when the state promised money from either a turnpike lease, new tolls on I-80, or using turnpike tolls to provide eight to 10 years of funding. Breathe a sigh of relief: You won't have to deal with the usual threats of a SEPTA strike.

But maybe you could actually help make SEPTA — what's the word? — good.

Mark Stier, a SEPTA guru who currently works for the Service Employees International Union, says that now is the time to push for some transit improvements, like increasing the number of bus and trolley routes, keeping the lines running later into the night and making trains run on time. This is the kind of stuff that will win SEPTA more riders, so the agency won't be crying poor once this funding runs out.

But you can't leave these changes up to SEPTA, an organization so arcane it still refuses to give change for a $5 bill and hasn't caught on to the idea of metrocards.

That's where you come in. Don't ignore SEPTA until the state's funds dry up. The agency is a quasi-city, state and private organization, so you have a right to demand some improvements. One promise you made during the campaign was evening the playing field on SEPTA's 15-member governing board of directors, where Philly riders are woefully underrepresented with two votes. That's a nice idea, although it's not really possible. Says Stier, "It could be a distraction from more important issues. We need to create a regional consensus about the future of transit." In other words, you should be trying to work with board directors from surrounding counties, winning sympathy for the city's case.

Your first chance for change is coming up soon. In February, Faye Moore, SEPTA's general manager, won't be renewing her contract, and a board committee will have to figure out who gets her influential position. Psst: That person could be from Philly.

• THE NO-BRAINER

There are two changes to the city's tax structure that you've backed. One was reducing the business-privilege tax (BPT), a move you tried to make while on council until Street vetoed it. The other is reassessing property taxes, so that properties are assessed according to what they would sell for if a For Sale sign went up today, rather than decades ago.

Now that you're mayor, it would appear that these proposals' time has come. But two things could stand in their way: those upcoming union negotiations, and City Council. There's only so much money the city has to spend every year, and this year, the unions get a shot at it first. If they persuade you to spend more money on them, says tax advocate Brett Mandel, it might be hard to cut business taxes.

Likewise, City Council might not warm to your ideas. The reassessment is an unpopular notion; just think of all the people in Northern Liberties, the Northeast and South Philly who will call their councilperson to complain about a higher tax bill. A few of your former colleagues might refuse to introduce your legislation.

Passing the BPT cuts, at least, seems doable: It takes nine votes to pass a bill, and eight of the members who voted in favor of cutting the BPT in 2004 remain on council. That means you need to persuade just one of possibly four new council members: Bill Green, Maria Quinones-Sanchez, Curtis Jones or (maybe) David Oh to back the idea. Take them to dinner, compliment their outfits, give them some money for area recreation centers — you remember how this is done, right?

• OPPORTUNITY TO BE A HERO

Here is what you had to say about casinos in your City Paper editorial board interview:

"The mayor's first and foremost responsibility is to make sure that we use every legal power we have to restrict the development of these casinos, what they look like, how they're situated, lights, height, all of it. ... We cannot allow these two gaming facilities to completely decimate a waterfront that has yet to be developed."

In other words, you don't like casinos, and want to make them as innocuous as possible. But we also noticed what's not included in this statement: any indication that you want to keep casinos out entirely.

Now, we understand that this is a political calculation. Rendell is a proponent of gaming, and you need to work with Harrisburg on many matters — you can't really afford to make enemies over a (likely) losing cause. So we would suggest this: If you find that Harrisburg isn't working with you anyway (if they tell you, for instance, to go fuck yourself on education) you could try a harder line on casinos. Something like: "Hell no."

Philadelphia has gotten used to the idea that gaming is coming, and that no matter what measures we take to prevent this, the state will overrule us. But that's not necessarily the case. Jethro Heiko of Casino-Free Philadelphia is convinced that if you stepped up and opposed casinos, you "could stop it." How? You could veto City Council legislation laying down a Commercial Entertainment District at the casino sites; you could revoke the endorsement of the City Planning Commission for Foxwoods and Sugarhouse; you could oppose the granting of zoning rights by the Zoning Board of Adjustment. You could fight.

Might the state find ways to override your best efforts? Sure. But it also might not. If it doesn't, you'd be a hero to the many Philadelphians who oppose gaming, and, more importantly, we wouldn't have these damn casinos.

• YOUR THIRD-BIGGEST OPPONENT

Remember how the Philadelphia Eagles and Pittsburgh Steelers merged to become the "Steagles" in 1943? That's similar to your relationship with the Pennsylvania governor: You play together because you have to.

You and Rendell have a mixed history. You got along with Rendell the mayor, and even worked on one of his campaigns. But things didn't remain as cordial when he moved his office to Harrisburg.

The Inquirer recently reported that Rendell tried to wrestle control of the Pennsylvania Convention Center back to the state. The facility has been a sore point between you and Rendell since 2003, when you were appointed chairman of the center and Rendell objected, saying you didn't have the right management background.

The timing of his recent power grab — about 40 days before the general election — was no coincidence. Rendell was sending you a message: This is his territory. Back off.

It won't be any easier with issues like casino placement, control of the School District, control of the Parking Authority, funding SEPTA with suburban toll money, gun control laws. You have to plan out very carefully which topics are worth fighting for.

The center wasn't one of them for you. When asked after an Oct. 3 debate why you were so content with Rendell's power play, you said, "Because I live in the real world. The name of the building is the Pennsylvania Convention Center. It's not the Philadelphia Convention Center. ... They're paying for the expansion. Of course they're going to have more control."

That was probably the right move. But you cannot — and won't — "live in the real world" and defer to the state every time. And don't be fooled by Street's cheery relationship with Rendell, either. There, Street got Rendell's popular backing in tight elections against Sam Katz, and Street gave Rendell an easy path to take over the school system; control Parking Authority; and place casinos on the waterfront.

You'll eventually have to face down Rendell on countless conflicting interests. And when that happens, it's not certain that the governor — a Philly guy now with an entire state to keep happy — will play nicely.

• YOUR SECOND-BIGGEST OPPONENT

While you were on City Council, you fought to pass some much-needed bills, like the smoking ban, new ethics rules and tax reform. You also pissed off a lot of your colleagues in the process — it's not surprising that none of them backed your bid for mayor.

You know from experience that a disgruntled City Council can do a lot to make a mayor miserable. It can hold his budget hostage, stifle development he supports and overturn bills he vetoes. You personally squared off with Mayor Street constantly: on same-sex partners rights, on a bill to reduce business taxes — you even accused him, in the media, of stealing your ideas. This helped you break from the crowd and generate credibility for your mayoral campaign.

But the tables are flipped now. And many of your old colleagues — like Jannie Blackwell, Donna Reed Miller and maybe Blondell Reynolds Brown — could be salivating at the chance to beat you at your own game.

Political watchers say 5th District Councilman Darrell Clarke, a longtime Street protégé, could become to you what you were to Street. It's possible, for example, to imagine him battling you over gentrification along Clarke's North Philly-via-Broad Street, with you pushing for new developments and Clarke resisting.

This problem can be solved. A good starting point is not acting like Street, who demanded things from council without offering anything in return. If you play nice with your old pals, initiatives like your budgets and plans for new businesses could flourish. If not, well, things could get ugly pretty fast.

• YOUR BIGGEST OPPONENT

It's nice to sail into office, isn't it? To have won a tough election in convincing fashion? To have all the political capital in the world?

We're sure you wouldn't give it up. But being the embodiment of a city's hopes and dreams will have its own challenges. Not only are you expected to be pure as the day you came into the world, you're expected to produce results. Philadelphians think they just elected Michael Nutter, the brilliant, saintly reformist who's gonna throw the bums out of City Hall, put the screws to street thugs and light a fire under the stagnant city bureaucracy. What are they going to think when Michael Nutter, the effective, public service-oriented councilman from the 4th District, shows up?

Like we said in our endorsement, we think you're the best guy for the job. You're smart enough, savvy enough and decent enough to be the mayor of a tough town. But a question occurs to us as you start your first term, and it's one you'll probably ponder many times over the next four (or eight) years: Is Philadelphia really a tough town? Or is it an impossible one?