When my nephew was a toddler, he was a bright child but afflicted with an odd habit of covering his eyes with both hands whenever something frightened him.

Regardless of circumstance – be it perceived physical danger or a scary movie – the boy would calmly block it all out by firmly clasping his fingers over his face.

He didn’t have a normal fight-or-flight response.

It was some weird, atavistic self-protective instinct that said, “If I can’t see it, it can’t hurt me.”

Fortunately, he’s older now and has outgrown the peculiar practice.

I wish others would.

For many years, what passes for political leadership in Volusia County has suffered from a debilitating form of what psychiatrists call the “Pollyanna Syndrome” – a tendency for people in power to focus on pleasant items more accurately than unpleasant ones.

They take the worry out of serious problems – make them softer and rounder – by simply refusing to admit that they exist at all.

In doing so, politicians develop a subconscious bias for unchecked optimism that sooths their fragile egos through constant self-reinforcement and ostentatious displays – such as the gaudy “State of the County” address.

With repetition, it blunts their logical instincts to recognize difficult problems and seek solutions.

Trust me.  Messengers bearing bad news tend to have short life spans in most government organizations.  They are shunned like a Jonah – and if your views don’t comport with the “everything is beautiful, in its own way” groupthink – you’d better keep them to yourself.

It also helps when the local media stops pointing out our collective warts and blemishes.

Anyone looking for a crystal example of this most vexing local problem of our time need look no further than a telling letter to the editor in Sunday’s Daytona Beach News-Journal entitled, “Accentuate Positive in Daily News.”

The piece was submitted by a Mr. Morgan Gilreath of Deland, Florida.

Now, I don’t know for certain if the author is our former Volusia County Property Appraiser – but I suspect he is.

And I don’t come to that conclusion by name recognition alone.

It is because the idea of intentionally ignoring uncomfortable realities –  and deliberately trying to curtain off the malignant issues that are destroying our quality of life and systematically churning large segments of the Halifax area into a mosaic of dystopian badlands – is textbook Volusia County government.

In Mr. Gilreath’s view, “Appearances do matter.  So does the way our community is presented to people visiting or looking for a home.” 

 He went on to list several newsworthy headlines that appeared in the News-Journal’s “Local” section on June 1.

These reports include a mother who viciously scalded her child, a woman convicted of drowning a puppy admitting to a probation violation, and the leader of a Palm Coast street gang appealing his life sentence.

In other words – a small, but vivid, cross-sample of “real life” here on the Fun Coast.

According to Gilreath, “Gotta tell ya, these don’t describe where I live. We have great communities throughout Volusia County with lots of wonderful people involved in fun and life-enriching events day in and day out. I didn’t see much of that in the Local section June 1.” 

Hey, Morgan – wake up and smell the coffee.

Those stories, and hundreds like them, empirically describe where the rest of us live.

In my view, the idea of intentionally concealing the myriad issues that face us is the height of dishonesty – and self-deception.

And it disrespects our intelligence.

The fact is, many areas of Volusia County are quickly reaching rock bottom – and to simply ignore – or worse, purposely conceal by omission – the cancerous effects of blight, violent crime, homelessness, dilapidation and the resulting despair as a means of building a false narrative for potential visitors and home buyers borders on criminal fraud.

Despite the deeply ingrained instincts of certain current and former Volusia County politicians – ignorance of the problem is not the answer.

In my view, the very idea of encouraging the Daytona Beach News-Journal to only report on a make-believe world of “wonderful people engaged in fun and life-enriching events” as a means of creating a faux-appearance speaks volumes.

It is this same shameless mindset that drove local tourism officials to abandon any semblance of ethical boundaries when they openly encouraged some 10,000 members of Shriners International to descend on Daytona Beach for their 2017 Imperial Session next month – knowing full-well what the poor rubes will discover once they arrive.

Don’t take my word for it.

In an enlightening April 2017 piece by the News-Journal’s Elieen Zaffiro-Kean, our main gateway to Daytona’s infamous beachside – East International Speedway Boulevard – was aptly described as, “…an apocalyptic version of its former self.”

“Empty buildings held up by cracked bricks sit like ghosts along the busy thoroughfare between the Halifax River and Atlantic Ocean. Buildings with broken windows and missing roof shingles seamlessly blend in with the other beaten-down structures. Underground, fuel from old gas stations is seeping between properties.”

 Need more? I encourage everyone to pretend you’re a Shriner and take a stroll through the ruins of the Boardwalk – then make your own assessment of whether you would return to the “Daytona Beach Resort Area.”

My God.

Look, I’m not a marketing expert – but I do know the exponential impact of negative word-of-mouth from 10,000 victims of a bait-and-switch scheme on future tourism.  And, when the backlash hits, our various and redundant convention and visitors’ bureaus will ultimately have no one to blame but themselves.  (Our red-faced politicians will make certain of that.)

They say the first step in resolving a problem is admitting you have one – and the truth hurts.

But giving in to the feel-good strategy of ignoring the obvious in hopes it will go away is a slippery slope.

I realize that I can be chronically negative and hyper-critical – and I suspect things look different from the posh riverfront homes of the rich and powerful – or an idyllic West Volusia neighborhood.

But pretending our area is not suffering mightily – or attempting to camouflage the evils – is not conducive to positive change.

The blind optimism of Mr. Gilreath aside, the Halifax area continues to endure the catastrophic effects of concentrated poverty, widespread crime and victimization, a dearth of political leadership and vision, abject greed, corrosive neglect, and a crippling oligarchical system of governance that protects and enriches a few powerful barons while completely ignoring the needs of average citizens who are expected to pay the bills and remain silent.

I’m not making this up to hurt someone’s feelings.  Look around.

Mr. Gilreath believes that “…accentuating the positive helps lead those reading to positive thoughts and actions.”

Do we really solve these entrenched issues by resorting to the hollow vanity of painting ourselves in a positive light?

Really?

In my view, it is high-time that our elected and appointed officials at all levels of government awake to the sobering realization that we no longer have the luxury of ignoring this devastating cycle.

Now is the time for blunt honesty – and bold, decisive action.

We must face our demons head-on, with eyes wide open, and anything less represents the nadir of political cowardice and dooms us all to more of the same.

I believe we do ourselves a terrible disservice when we attempt to create a Utopian concept of life that simply does not exist, while ignoring the ugly realities we communally face.

They call it a dichotomy.  I think.

The word defines a stark division or contrast between two things that are opposed or entirely different.

The partition of a whole into sets, something split and completely dissimilar.

When you point out a dichotomy, you draw an unmistakable distinction between two things.

This vocabulary lesson begins our look at the two markedly different communities that comprise Daytona Beach.

I was reminded of this polarity while perusing the News-Journal on Sunday.

In Clayton Parks’ “Word on the Street” column, we were once again treated to a feel-good hype piece fanning the pandemonium surrounding pre-sale information requests for Latitude Margaritaville – the proposed 6,900 to 8,000-unit development by Canadian developer Minto Communities in affiliation with Jimmy Buffett’s Margaritaville Holdings.

According to a Minto representative, some 70,000 Parrotheads have registered to receive marketing material on the highly-touted “active adult” escapist community – where, beginning in the “low $200’s” – you can claim your own slice of paradise in the palmettos and pine scrub west of I-95 and “…escape to an island-inspired life as you grow older, but not up.”

Everyone who is anyone in the Halifax area is absolutely giddy over Latitudes.

When our local Big Wheels aren’t taking personal credit for the project – they are breathlessly ballyhooing it as the renaissance – a virtual rebirth of the Daytona Beach Resort Area.

After all, when you factor in the new “Buc-ee’s” – advertised as a “destination” mega gas station/convenience store – 120 fuel pumps anchoring a gargantuan “travel convenience center,” a mysterious, yet-to-be-named “specialty grocer,” and a surfeit of restaurants and retail on the frontage road just east of our sparkly new Tanger Outlet – you get the idea that Daytona’s sandy Phoenix is on the rise.

According to Minto’s overexcited Senior Vice President Bill Bullock, “How could you not be ecstatic?  On both the east and west of the interstate you’ve got incredible things happening – and they’re all complementary uses – it’s putting Daytona back on the map!”

 Hell, yeah.  Ecstatic.

Then, I turned the page.

It was like listening to “Happy Days Are Here Again!” dissolve into that old Depression-era dirge, “Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?”

In the Editorial section was an enlightening piece entitled, “End the Eyesore on the Boardwalk.”

As regular readers of these tedious screeds know, I recently took a short walkabout through the ruins of Daytona’s Boardwalk – and what I saw brought me to uncontrolled anger.

If you haven’t visited our core tourist draw in a while, please have a look and form your own conclusions:  https://barkersview.org/2017/05/13/under-the-boardwalk-down-by-the-sea/

In my view, the Boardwalk – a dystopian wasteland of rust and rot, populated by sleepwalking homeless, and anchored on both ends by down-at-the-heels penny arcades – represents the grim consequence of multi-layered political corruption, gross mismanagement of public funds and resources, and wanton neglect by greedy property owners who consistently put profits over progress.

How does the dilapidation that is the true face of Daytona Beach comport with Minto’s purpose-built, artificial paradise with “Palm trees swaying to an ocean breeze” and “Everyday feels like an escape” feel? 

It doesn’t.  It can’t.

Trust me, the people who stand to profit most wish that people like me would stop making the obvious comparison in public.

Blemishes are meant to be covered – not openly discussed – especially when they transmogrify into gruesome tumors.

As the big money moves west, so does the focus and attention of our movers-and-shakers – you know, the Chamber of Commerce set, our goofy elected officials and their friends in high places, like the CEO Business Alliance, etc.

Like victims of a contagious pandemic of Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, our elected and appointed officials – and those who make their living grubbing from government coffers – will conveniently forget the fetid mess on what remains of the beachside as developers start churning ecologically sensitive land west of the Interstate into the “Next big thing.”

No one wants to be left behind.

To our ‘economic development’ types, the festering carcass of the beachside represents an old, ugly and intractable problem, an embarrassing shrine to human greed and government ineptitude – a turnip squeezed dry – a grotesque thing no longer worth the effort and expense of saving.

Conversely, Latitudes Margaritaville represents Progress.  Fun.  Opportunity.  Money.

Two sides of the same coin – abject blight and dilapidation contrasting with the excitement and promise of what will be.

The baggage of the past vs. the potential of future progress.

And there is an unmistakable sense of potential in the air.

A smart friend recently calculated the estimated impact fees generated by Minto’s 6,900 new home starts at more than $52-million.

And we’re going to need every red cent of it.

Given the fact that the Margaritaville development will ultimately represent an influx of some 14,000+ aging Parrotheads – that represents a serious impact on our existing roads, streets, water, sewer, health and public safety systems.

And that doesn’t include the future effects of proposed residential developments stretching along the spine of Volusia County from Farmton (a planned community with a maximum development potential of 23,100 “dwelling units”) to the Flagler County line.

However, governments penchant for giving impact fee “credits” and “caps” for influential projects and developers – while pushing tax increases for transportation infrastructure – reminds me that we should be closely monitoring how much of the burden Minto ultimately shoulders.

Why the paranoia, Mark?

Do you really think Minto Communities won’t pay its own way?

What’s wrong with you?  Get with it!  It’s time to welcome the new and shit on the old!

We were told we should be ecstatic! 

Why are you bringing us down, you party-pooping asshole?    

Because experience tells me that whenever our elected officials begin buying into the over-the-top flimflam and faux-hysteria generated by some high-paid corporate shill – anything is possible.

History tells us that these shallow minded, politically motivated hacks will grasp at anything presented as “progress” – regardless of how disconnected from the core issues it may be – or how it ultimately effects the lives and livelihoods of their long-suffering constituents.

Over the past 25-years, many traditional “downtown” areas in depressed communities around the country have made a comeback using the walkable urbanism concept, focusing on safe streetscapes with a complex mix of retail, specialty restaurants, housing, arts and entertainment.

Sadly, many distressed residential areas – such as Daytona’s beachside – haven’t fared as well.

Across the nation some cities have determined certain neighborhoods aren’t worth saving.

Timid redevelopment departments – often with the back-handed consent of elected officials – turn-tail and walk away from the incredibly time consuming and expensive proposition of reclaim, renovate, renew and revitalize in favor of simply starting fresh in another part of town.

Sound familiar?

As our friends at Minto construct a simulated “beach community” – something we had and lost – I hope those who care will continue fighting the false optimism and marketing slight-of-hand designed to divert attention and blunt our instincts.

Let’s demand that our elected and appointed officials at all levels of government stay focused on the hard work at hand – and remember the importance of reviving our core tourist area to the ultimate health and success of the region.

In late March 1968, United States Army Sergeant First Class George “Ron” Brown of Holly Hill, Florida, Sergeant Alan Boyer of Missoula, Montana, and Sergeant Greg Huston of Shelby County, Ohio, along with six indigenous personnel – collectively known as “Spike Team Asp” – conducted a top secret intelligence operation behind enemy lines approximately 12-miles northeast of Tchepone, Laos.

Assigned to the Military Assistance Command Vietnam/Studies and Observation Group (MACV/SOG) this team of elite Special Forces soldiers was tasked with setting wire-tapping equipment along the labyrinthine Ho Chi Minh trail system, the main north-south supply line for the Viet Cong and North Vietnamese Army.

The men had been covertly inserted into the area after launching from Nakon Phanom, Thailand aboard a CH-3 from the Air Force’s 20^th Helicopter Squadron call sign “Pony Express.”

At approximately 11:00am on the morning of March 28, the team reported that they were in contact with an enemy force and requested an immediate emergency extraction from the area.

A “Pony Express” helicopter arrived in the area a short time later and quickly located the team on the ground.  Due to thick canopy jungle and rough terrain the pilot was unable to land and a rope ladder was dropped from the open doorway of the aircraft to the men below.  Five of the six indigenous troops climbed the ladder and were safely taken into the helicopter.

As the sixth was going up, Sergeant Boyer was seen beginning his ascent at the bottom rung of the ladder.

Just as Boyer started climbing, one of the rope’s mounting brackets either broke free or was cut away by heavy enemy ground fire.  Personnel on the helicopter reported observing the indigenous soldier and Sgt. Boyer falling to the ground.

According to Sgt. Dave Mayberry, who served as the chase medic on the extraction helicopter, the Green Berets were still very much alive and heroically returning fire and defending their position.  When Sgt. Mayberry turned to treat one of the wounded he lost sight of the men on the ground.

Brown, Huston and Boyer were never seen again.

Numerous air assets were diverted to the area and a rescue team was assembled, but the mission was called off later that afternoon when there were no further communications from the men.

On April 1, 1968, Special Forces Sergeant Chuck Feller, along with several indigenous soldiers, launched on a mission to locate the lost men of Spike Team Asp.  After just six hours on the ground, Sgt. Feller and his team came into direct contact with the enemy and called for an emergency extraction.

Again, a rope ladder had to be dropped and one of the indigenous soldiers was forced to dangle from the rungs as the helicopter returned to the airbase in Thailand.

Sgt. Feller later reported that his search found no evidence of Spike Team Asp.

In January 2000, a team from the former Joint POW/MIA Accounting Office conducted extensive excavations of the Laotian countryside near where Spike Team Asp was last seen.

During the latter part of the war, the Ho Chi Minh trail was heavily bombed leaving the earth deeply cratered and much of the topography completely different than it had been in 1968, making search and recovery efforts extremely difficult.

However, the archaeological excavation uncovered several personal artifacts attributable to U.S. military personnel, to include a metal boot insert and several uniform buttons.

In addition, a single human tooth was recovered at the site.

The tooth was later linked to Ron Brown through dental x-rays at the Department of Defense Central Identification Laboratory in Hawaii.

In May 2003, Ron Brown’s daughter, Ronda Brown-Pitts, was notified by the Army that her father’s remains had been found in Laos.  Unfortunately, dental records provided to her showed that her father’s tooth had a filling – and the tooth recovered did not.

She demanded a DNA test but it was refused based on the Army’s policy of “body desecration.” A DNA test would have destroyed “all of the remains.”

In 2006, a casket containing the remains of Master Sergeant George “Ron” Brown was delivered to his daughter and later interred with full military honors in Dayton, Texas.

For many years I have worn a POW/MIA bracelet bearing Ron’s name.

When I was a young boy growing up during the Vietnam era, these bracelets were a fairly common sight but not so much anymore.  In the 1970’s many school children wore the bracelet as a means of ensuring that the POW/MIA issue remained a priority until they all came home.

I received mine after making a donation to a veteran’s support organization.

For those whose adopted POW didn’t come home, the bracelet holder became the guardian of a hero’s life story – the keeper of the eternal memory of one man’s sacrifice.

The silver band became both a personal memorial, and a public reminder, that there are some debts of gratitude that cannot be repaid.

This extremely small token of remembrance has allowed me the honor of learning about Ron’s military career and his incredible heroism.  It has given me the opportunity to speak with his friends and family, and to meet and correspond with some of the men he served with on Okinawa and in Vietnam.

He was a husband, a father, a former member of the U.S. Army Parachute Team “The Golden Knights,” and a professional soldier of incredible skill and dedication.

Even though Ron’s “remains” have been repatriated, I still wear his bracelet as a personal remembrance of one man’s sacrifice to the high cost of freedom.

And I always will.

Incredibly, the story of Spike Team Asp continues to unfold some 49-years later.

On March 7, 2016, one day before what would have been Sergeant Alan Boyer’s 70^th birthday, United States Army officials notified his sister in Leesburg, Florida, that a single bone fragment had been located by the Defense Department POW/MIA Accounting Office.

The bone shard was apparently purchased by a Laotian activist from Lao nationals described as “remains dealers,” and later positively identified through mitochondrial DNA analysis.

Sergeant Alan Boyer was buried with full military honors at Arlington National Cemetery on June 22, 2016.

Currently, there are 1,611 Americans who remain missing after the Vietnam War.  Overall, there are 82,547 missing personnel from past conflicts, including World War II, Korea and Iraq.

On this Memorial Day, and every day, let us remember the extraordinary service and heroic sacrifice of men like Ron Brown, Al Boyer and Greg Huston, and that of their families.

Never forgotten.

You can tell a lot about a person by how they conduct themselves when no one else is watching.

In fact, it’s the very definition of character.

Before I tear-off on a rant here – trust me – I’m no saint.

I drink to excess, smoke a pack of cigarettes a day, and no one enjoys a classic dirty joke more than I do.

Sometimes I stay up late, drink whiskey, and tell tall tales with friends – and my frequent use of salty language is as notorious as my gluttonous appetite.  I’m rude, selfish and stubborn as a mule when I think I’m right – and I’m right all the time.  Just ask me.

I can be mean-spirited and judgmental, too.

Sadly, these personality traits fit my enormous ego just fine.

I’m a piece of work.  I admit it.

Last week, I read a piece by Dustin Wyatt in the Daytona Beach News-Journal regarding yet another wacky screw-up by freshmen members of the Volusia County Council – one more loopy brain-fart by Heather Post, Billie Wheeler, and our doddering Chairman Ed Kelley.

Or was it?

During last Thursday’s County Council meeting, Heather Post – who was apparently home recuperating from pneumonia – sent a series of text messages as she watched the proceedings online.

At first, Post’s messages to Kelley were rather innocuous – she didn’t grasp the concept that when the council takes a lunch break – the live-feed is interrupted briefly until the meeting resumes.

Then, while council members gave their always illuminating closing comments, Post thought it necessary to let Kelley know that she had received a report on the Veteran’s Foundation – a note that Kelley acknowledged receiving.

Then, things got more ominous.

In a clumsy text message to Billie Wheeler, Mrs. Post advised that she would not be appointing Paul Zimmerman, president of Sons of the Beach, Florida’s premiere advocacy group, to a beach advisory committee recently proposed by Councilwoman Deb Denys:

(“I’m not appointing Paul. Illspoint Tony.”)

Instead, Post communicated to Wheeler that she would appoint Tony Grippa – a former Vice President at Brown & Brown who left J. Hyatt’s employ during the great July 2016 exodus of the company’s top brass – and reported “brainchild” of the advisory committee.

I have no idea what involvement Mr. Grippa has with beach advocacy issues.  Maybe he’s a virtual Jacques Cousteau – I’ve just never seen him around.

Regardless, it was important that Mrs. Post distance herself from Paul Zimmerman and Sons of the Beach – and if she had to violate the spirit, if not the letter, of Florida’s Sunshine Law to do it – so be it.

The rules are different here.

To her credit, Ms. Wheeler didn’t respond to Heather Post’s text messages – and she kept Mr. Grippa as her personal appointment to the beach advisory committee.

Then, the right people started asking the hard questions.

Enter County Attorney Dan Eckert – whose entire practice has devolved into quibbling the facts, obfuscating the obvious, suing his own constituents, running interference for elected officials and serving as muscle for Little Jimmy Dineen and his cabal of shadow players.

You see, Dan tidies up the sticky messes – on our dime.

Naturally, Mr. Eckert’s immediate response to the serious allegations that Councilwoman Post engaged in blatantly illegal two-way communications regarding public business with another elected official outside an open, and in-progress, meeting did not even rise to a “technical” violation of Florida’s Sunshine Law.

Heck no!

My ass.

In what is becoming an all to frequent fallback – Mrs. Post again refused to accept responsibility for an official misstep – then went into one of her weird stream-of-consciousness, babbling excuses – like a demented child caught with their hand in the cookie jar:

“I have been out with pneumonia. I have not been able to speak or move around without coughing/choking. There was no violation of Sunshine Law,” she wrote in an email. “I am sure my constituents will be glad to hear that even in my condition, I made arrangements to view the County Council meeting live online to stay abreast of the issues of importance to Volusia County. This is a reflection of my true dedication to the job.”

Either that, or she really didn’t want to support Paul Zimmerman’s appointment to the beach advisory board after Sons of the Beach rightly supported her opponent during the 2016 election.

You see, Mrs. Post is chummy with Daytona Beach Boardwalk magnate and beach driving opponent, George Anderson.

In other words – her communications had nothing to do with a self-described “dedication to the job,” and everything to do with cheapjack politics.

You know, I’m really trying to give Heather Post the benefit of the doubt – but how much more of this dodging and gibberish are we expected to take?

Of course, Chairman Kelley demonstrated the brand of cool-headed leadership he’s become known for when he immediately accepted responsibility for the possible violation of state law, commissioned an outside inquiry into the matter to assure openness and transparency, then restored confidence in his constituents by pledging that communications of this type would never happen in the future.

Yeah, right.

“It’s no big deal. … I did nothing illegal,” Kelley confidently crowed on Thursday.

Of course you didn’t, Ed.

(Word to the wise:  You can lie to us all you want – just don’t lie to yourself.  That’s a dangerous indulgence for an elected official.  Don’t believe me?  Just ask Corinne Brown.)

This serves as another prime example of the hubris and political arrogance that permeates every aspect of Volusia County government – from the top down.

The rules are for the little people.

Don’t like it?  Screw you.

Folks, there is a malignancy in our county government – a bastardized oligarchical system that serves the influential and well-connected, while dismissing the true needs of their long-suffering constituents.

And it appears nothing is off-limits.

In my view, recurring public integrity questions and transparency issues such as this highlight the “I do what I want, when I want” culture that exists whenever those appointed to high public office lose their sense of service.

And their sense of honor.

When you look at successful businesses and organizations they all have one thing in common – they get the small things right.

All the time.

For instance, if you take a trip to any Disney property, you can tell that customer service and satisfaction has been studied down to the subliminal level – sights, sounds, color, texture, aroma, lighting, host interaction, atmosphere – all carefully crafted to ensure that each guest receives the same consistently pleasant experience.

Every time.

Flexibility is reserved for those dealing with incidents of customer dissatisfaction, accidents and service disruption.

The core standards of the brand are never compromised for any reason.

This laser focus on the comprehensive “customer experience” is true of successful restaurants, retail outlets and vacation destinations.

Trust me.  This doesn’t happen by accident.

Success is universally the result of effective professional management and oversight which ensures the impeccable standards, values and ideals associated with the destination are adhered to by every person and entity associated with the “brand” – all the time – constantly and emphatically.

Without identifiable standards, chaos ensues.

When the carefully crafted system is subjected to favoritism and undue influence – the natural result is disorder and turmoil.  Equilibrium can only be restored by harmony and balance.

The same holds true for “successful” governments.

The development of acceptable regulations – followed by fair and consistent enforcement – serves to uphold standards and enhances the quality of life and marketability of the community.

Ask yourself this question:  Does any of this resemble the “Daytona Beach Resort Area”?

Hell, does any of this resemble Volusia County government?

In my view, the Daytona Beach News-Journal has done outstanding work of late.

Their ‘Tarnished Jewel’ series documenting the historic mismanagement and colossal incompetence of our beachside Community Redevelopment Areas – negligence that saw hundreds-of-millions pissed away over 30-years – coupled with the City of Daytona Beach’s quick response to correcting these deficiencies – shows the benefits of bringing difficult issues into the sunlight.

City officials are going back and reexamining what works – and what doesn’t.

They are dusting-off and updating tired ordinances, developing innovative code enforcement strategies and giving officials the tools and support they need for success.

Most important – they are holding those responsible accountable.

Last week, the City of Daytona Beach announced that it is aggressively pursuing some $4.46-million in past due fines and fees from some 395 violators – with nearly 300 of those owing more than $10,000.

The sad reality is that each of these violations represent a dilapidated – even dangerous – structure, many of which are being used as commercial rental properties, and all of which bring down adjacent property values and erode community standards.

That effects all of us.

It’s easy to point a finger at the police department or code enforcement officials – but the reality is, the blame lies squarely at the feet of elected officials who have historically lacked the vision and foresight to set community priorities – then insist that the city’s administration direct assets to enforce and maintain those standards.

As I said earlier this week, Daytona Beach City Commissioner Aaron Delgado is proving to be the kind of change agent we have needed in local government for far too long.  His ‘See a need and take charge’ attitude, and unique ability to build consensus on difficult issues like homelessness and code enforcement are truly impressive.

I believe that effective revitalization efforts and the power of creativity and enthusiasm can be just as contagious as cancerous blight.

The key is strong and effective management – something that is universally accepted as Problemo Numero Uno here on the Fun Coast.

For instance, for the past decade, County Manager Jim Dinneen has proven that his lock-step loyalty to deep-pocketed political insiders – coupled with the near continuous bullying of the municipalities – is counter-productive and contrary to progress.

Don’t believe me?  Take a look around.

Why are our elected officials so afraid of positive change?

When pressed, County Chairman Ed Kelley falls back to his goofy corn-pone delivery and points to worn out “accomplishments” and tax-funded private projects which continue to create and expand an artificial economy totally dependent upon the infusion of public funds.

All while our core tourist district rusts and rots into oblivion.

No vision.  No leadership.  No hope.

I challenge anyone in a position of authority to look at the condition of the Daytona Beach Boardwalk – and other areas where beach driving has been removed – and study the malignant blight that is literally destroying one of America’s great tourist destinations, right before our collective eyes.

It is time to face the hard facts that the failed ideas of those who control our collective fate – the Five Families of Volusia County who pass the same nickel around – are ruining our “brand” and diminishing our quality of life with their self-serving edicts and focus on profits over progress.

If you haven’t seen first-hand the desolation of a private beach, I suggest you visit one.

These barren places are the antithesis of a tourist destination.

And all the off-beach parking lots in the world won’t change that.

Folks, I know I can sound like a broken record – but I am convinced that by bringing attention to our deficits we can grow and become something stronger than we were before.

We simply cannot accomplish that with the failed leadership, gross mismanagement and lack of effective vision that has brought us to this tragic place.

Hell, our current administration has proven they can’t manage a portable toilet emergency on the beach – let alone access and development issues.

I guess Mori and Hyatt haven’t gotten together and given Jim direction on the matter just yet. . .

In my view, the solution to our collective problems begin and end with effective management – not exorbitantly paid posers who lack the will, creativity and vision to speak truth to power and begin the difficult process of correcting the sins of the past.

Hey Kids!

Barker’s View is on the road in warm Ft. Lauderdale this beautiful Friday morning.

Look for a new installment of Angels & Assholes this weekend!

Also, as the city’s lawyers continue to pick over the bones,  I’ll have my take on the incredibly expensive and terribly embarrassing “Debacle in DeBary” early next week.

As always, thanks for reading!

Mark

Everyone knows the old idiom, “A picture is worth a thousand words.”

Or, in my case, 1,200 words.  I get insufferably wordy.

According to Wikipedia, the phrase refers to the notion that a complex idea can be conveyed with just a single still image – or that an image conveys its meaning or essence more effectively than a lengthy written description.

Last week, I read an interesting article in the Daytona Beach News-Journal by Eileen Zaffiro-Kean – with an accompanying editorial by the great raconteur, Mark Lane – reporting the demise of amusement rides from the Daytona Beach Boardwalk for the first time in some 80-years.

Both pieces were enlightening – and spurred my interest in learning more.

I couldn’t tell you the last time I visited the Boardwalk – but it had a Ferris wheel when I did.

In November, I wrote a post entitled, “The Thrill is Gone,” which discussed a decades-old lawsuit that has hampered any substantive change on the Boardwalk, and lamented the loss of a place that made so many great memories when I was a kid:

“Greedy investors, strategic bankruptcies, family monopolies, unscrupulous developers – to include convicted grifter, Bill Geary, of Ocean Walk Shoppes fame who is finishing a stint in federal prison – promises of pie-in-the-sky panacea hotels and tony shopping areas, a stubborn inability to reasonably negotiate with the best interests of the community in mind, government overreach and interference, insider maneuvering, piss-poor planning, no leadership, etc., etc.”

“Whether we want to admit it or not, what we are collectively hearing over the roar of the surf is the sad death knell of one of America’s great tourist destinations.” 

Last week, a very smart friend and I decided to take in the sights and sounds of the boardwalk and see for ourselves exactly what the demise of these amusements portend for our core tourist draw.

After navigating the two left turns required to get onto Ocean Avenue from A-1-A, I drove slowly north toward the southern façade of the Daytona Hilton, past the 20-foot diving girl who has graced the old Stamie’s Swimwear Shop for at least a half-century, waiting for grey-bearded men with backpacks to cross the street.

To the left was a paid parking lot entirely littered with a collage of handmade signs warning potential customers what they cannot do – “No Reentry,” “No Cards Accepted,” “No U-Turns,” “No RV’s, Semi’s or Trailers,” “Cash Only,” “$10.”

The sign that caught my eye – the one which serves as a fitting metaphor for the sordid bait-and-switch scheme that is Daytona’s tourist trade – was a hand-scrawled: “Have $ Ready.”

Indeed.

I found a public parking space and fed the meter just outside the entrance to the Joyland Amusement Center – an arcade that hasn’t seen any significant renovation in decades.  Walking through the dimly lit passageway and down the stairwell is like entering a weird time machine, where the sounds and smells evoke memories of a time long ago.

Frankly, I was glad to see that the live dancing chicken had been removed.  When I was a kid, for a dime, a tired rooster trapped in a small painted case would dance and peck out a tune on a little piano until the music stopped and a feed pellet rewarded his performance.

One gets the distinct feeling that Joyland is either a once Grand Dame now indignity waiting to die by the sea, or – it is what it is – a long-neglected coin-operated business holding on by its fingernails until the lawyers stop their money-grubbing arguments, appeals and motions –  or the “next big thing” hits the strand.

As we exited onto the wide colonnade of the Boardwalk, I was struck by the fresh sea breeze and the initial impression of just how physically deserted it all felt.  Except for a few ambulatory homeless – and a smattering of young families eating pizza and corn dogs alfresco – the strand was vacant.  Dead.

On a glorious spring afternoon.

Walking south, we took in the expanse of what had been the Boardwalk Amusement Center – where once a great Ferris wheel stood, Go-Kart’s zoomed, and various whirligigs, roller coasters, bumper cars and kiddie rides brought a true sense of fun and excitement.

Now, the place looks like a wasteland – a twisted mess of steel girders, rusting ride cars, dilapidated ticket booths emblazoned with a tax levy notice, and an eerie go-kart track that looks like it was abandoned in place.

Because it was.

A place that once brought so much joy and excitement to vacationing families and locals alike – now quietly rotting into a trash strewn lot.

At the risk of sounding hyper-dramatic, I was moved by what I saw.

A mix of sadness and anger, accompanied by the nagging question – “How could this be allowed to happen?”

 I took a few pictures to document the state of things.  Then, we moved along.

As we reached the Mardi Gras Fun Center – an aging arcade very similar in feel to the Joyland – I noticed two 20-somethings fist-bumping a guy perched on a bar stool near the front entrance.

Having spent the better part of my law enforcement career investigating drug trafficking, I got the distinct feeling from the snippets of conversation I overheard that something was up.

As we walked to the south terminus of the boardwalk then east near Zeno’s Sweet Shop, the pair fell in close behind us – one jabbering into a cellphone as we stepped over urine stains and what appeared to be a bloody miasma of dried vomitus on the sidewalk.

Gripping the handgun in my front pocket, I overheard the gist of the conversation two-steps behind us.

The pair were working the logistics of a street-level, parking lot drug hand-off.

My friend looked at me with a trace of fear in her eyes and we stepped away toward Ocean Avenue and the safety of our parked car.  As we passed the sign pollution of the private parking lot, I quickly snapped a few more photographs of the trash, broken fencing, and twisted steel that greets visitors.

When we reached our vehicle, I was angry.

On Friday – rather than post my usual ramblings about life and politics in the Halifax area – I simply posted the pictures I took – a silent exhibition of the cancerous results of the cycle of greed, blight and utter dilapidation that is slowly killing the beachside.

How tragic.

In a few weeks, some 20,000 Shriner’s will arrive.

They are coming at the invitation of the City of Daytona Beach and the County of Volusia.

They have a right to expect the beauty and splendor portrayed in a slick Danica Patrick ad – and the upscale experience they were sold by the Halifax Area Advertising Authority, the Chamber of Commerce, and the bevy of tourism hucksters who continue to lure unsuspecting visitors to an area that is neither ready to receive them – nor equipped to entertain them.

Just Have $ Ready – and screw your convention/vacation experience on what was once the World’s Most Famous Beach.

We know you won’t be back – and nobody who scrounges a fast buck cares.

In my view, this represents the epitome of an unconscionable bait-and-switch ruse – and our elected officials deserve the fall-out that will inevitably ensue.