Axar.az presents an article "The Poetry Of Politics" by John Samuel Tieman.

Part 4, City Hall And The Five Of Clubs

Readers of my column know of my interest in American politics. What you might not know is my long-standing interest in municipal politics. I have decided to run for City Council in my home, University City, Missouri, an inner-ring suburb of St. Louis. I live in the Second Ward.

My regular readers are also accustomed to seeing an essay. What follows is a diary. I've purposely left out the names of neighbors who are not well-known public figures.

Some folks know national politics, some state politics. But what does municipal democracy look and feel like? To answer that, I will chronicle each week my bid, win or lose, for a four-year term in office. This retired teacher still likes to teach – And learn! -- civics.

25 November 2023

What Daniel Webster said of Dartmouth I say of University City. It is a small place, but there are those of us who love it.

A neighbor says, “But you're so idealistic!” I respond, “You should take comfort that a politician can go so effortlessly from the ideal to the practical. Utilitarianism according to Dr. Tieman goes like this. First, what is the ideal sewer? Now, how do we provide the greatest sewers for the greatest number of neighbors?”

Idealism is well suited to our municipality. University City is a council/manager form of governance. The council develops a vision. They establish policies. They are responsive to residents, and see to it that the entire community is equitably served. The council also ensures that policies are carried out. To these ends, they appoint a professional manager, who takes care of the day-to-day running of the city. In short, the very purpose of our city council is to think the big thoughts.

1 December 2023

I'm at the drugstore. There's a young couple down the aisle, and they're chatting but muffled. Occasionally, they sneak a look at me. I feel awkward and turn away. But just above me is one of those huge round mirrors, and I can't help but look. Now they're coming up to me.

“Excuse us,” they say, “but aren't you that poet who's running for city council?” I wasn't expecting that. What I really wasn't expecting was, “Can you recite a poem for us?”

I must have a hundred poems set to memory, poems which, upon request, especially upon request in the greeting cards section of Walgreens, go immediately blank. But they're young, nice, sincere. An Allen Ginsberg opening line comes finally to mind. “I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked ...”. I pause. This wasn't exactly what they had in mind. I gaze for a second at a Hallmark card. Then I remember, “How about one I wrote? This is a haiku I wrote to my wife.”

we undress for love

for seven seconds the dusk

makes us young again

They smile. I can tell that this is more the poetic experience they'd hoped for.

They ask about my run for city council. I tell them, “It's hard, time-consuming, sometimes tedious. Yet poetic.”

4 December 2023

And now, I file.

It's rainy and chilly, a miserable Missouri December day, but I don't care. I'm anxious. I barely slept last night. I don't have to file the first thing on Monday, but I want to get it done. All eight or ten or so forms are complete and ready to be notarized. 77 signatures of registered voters are ready to be verified. Just get it all filed, just get it all done, just get on the ballot.

I get to City Hall at 8 AM precisely. I love City Hall. It's ornate, octagonal, built in the Beaux- Arts style that was so popular in 1902. There's a central rotunda. A large domed room on the top floor serves as the council chambers.

I park. From the street, I walk up a flight of concrete stairs. When I enter, I am greeted by a beautiful winding staircase. Up that marble staircase, and, just to the right, is the office of the City Clerk. The City Clerk is nice. I like her smile. She knows who I am, and why I am here. But she's surprised to see me. I'm precisely one day early.

5 December 2023

And now, I try again.

I'm exhausted. I've not done much. But I'm emotionally drained. I went to the City Clerk's office. This morning, at 8 AM, I filed for the four-year seat on the city council. All the paperwork is in, all eight forms to the city, county, state, and the eight pages of signatures. The signatures now go to the St. Louis County Board Of Elections, where some schlimazel gets to check if at least 50 of the signatories are from registered voters. They are and I know it. The county will notify me in a week or so. That's when Dr. Tieman will be, officially, Candidate Tieman, 2nd Ward, the four-year seat, City Council, University City, Missouri. The actual business at the City Clerk's office was simple enough. Hand her the various forms, double-check them, notarize a few. It's made all the easier by the fact that our City Clerk is both efficient and pleasant.

Then -- pick a card. I got the five of clubs. Times were when a place on the ballot was determined by who showed up first, second, third, and so on. I've heard of folks camping out, tents and everything, for days in order to be first on the ballot. Now, anyone who shows up on the first day picks a card. Any opponent today will have to beat the five of clubs. Hereafter, names will appear in the order in which folks arrive. But today, day one and I'm the five of clubs. I'm telling friends that they can just call me ''Five''.

At the post office, and mail a now notarized form to the state, a form that officially notifies Jefferson City, our state capital, that I am a candidate for office. Then home where I officially notify my bed that I'm a candidate for five hours of sleep.

Next Week: Part 5, Vote Old Hippie