Jack Lessenberry

They said goodbye to Gordie Howe yesterday, after funeral ceremonies that seemed more appropriate for a former head of state than a hockey player. Howe was more than a mere athlete, of course; he was a touchstone; a link to our history. He was a memory of consistency and class, of a time when players stayed with one team most or all of their careers, before steroid scandals and when Detroit was one of the largest and richest cities in the world. Part of all this was baby boomers and those older mourning a bygone era and their own pasts. But what about the ultimate tribute to this man, the Gordie Howe International Bridge over the Detroit River? Gordie himself was still well enough and lucid enough to appreciate it when they told him the new bridge would be named after him as a symbol of both nations. Yet as he was laid to rest this week, we suddenly noticed that nothing seemed to be happening with the new crossing. By this time, I had fully expected shovels would be in the ground and earth-moving equipment crawling over the approaches in both countries like a swarm of insects. But all is quiet. Canada hasn't even selected a private partner to build that bridge. For years, we've been told that the new bridge should be open to traffic by 2020, but it seems increasingly clear that there's no way that's going to happen. Governor Rick Snyder was asked about this Wednesday, when he held a press conference with his opposite number Kathleen Wynne, the premier of Ontario. Both parties offered bland reassurances that all was well, though they began to back away from saying the bridge would be done on time. "We're willing to do whatever we can to make this happen," Ontario's leader said. "I believe we're on a positive path," the governor blandly echoed. But the truth seems to be that things appear to be either stalled or moving at a crawl. Land acquisition on the Michigan side is still far from complete. What matters more is what is happening in Canada, which is essentially paying for the entire bridge. Mark Butler, the spokesman for the entity overseeing the project, the Windsor-Detroit Bridge Authority, told a reporter earlier this week that we could ask companies who want to build the bridge to submit their bids in "the near future," a process that will take months. Which means no shovels in the ground this year. "Extremely complicated," were the words Butler used for both the procurement process and building the bridge itself. But what's really behind this delay? Chris Vander Doelen, a savvy longtime columnist for the Windsor Star newspaper, thinks national Canadian politics are involved. Conservative Stephen Harper, a huge backer of the bridge, was defeated by Justin Trudeau and the Liberals last fall. Vander Doelen notes "The federal Liberals have always been tight with Moroun, whose Ambassador Bridge group of companies (has) supported the party," he wrote Tuesday. He thinks perhaps Ottawa is throwing the Ambassador Bridge owner a financial bone by delaying the bridge that would compete with his as long as possible. For the sake of our economy, I hope he is wrong. But I'm beginning to worry that he's not. Jack Lessenberry is Michigan Radio's political analyst. Views expressed in his essays are his own and do not necessarily reflect those of Michigan Radio, its management or the station licensee, The University of Michigan.

They said goodbye to Gordie Howe yesterday, after funeral ceremonies that seemed more appropriate for a former head of state than a hockey player. Howe was more than a mere athlete, of course; he was a touchstone; a link to our history. He was a memory of consistency and class, of a time when players stayed with one team most or all of their careers, before steroid scandals and when Detroit was one of the largest and richest cities in the world. Part of all this was baby boomers and those older

If you don’t like being on the road, don’t run for Congress in Michigan’s First Congressional District. It is geographically huge, because so few people live up there. The district spans the entire Upper Peninsula, and about the top quarter of the Northern Lower Peninsula. That amounts to 44 percent of Michigan’s total land area. That’s two and a half times the entire state of Massachusetts – and it includes only about 700,000 people.

For many years I've predicted, so far incorrectly, that one of these years the Libertarian Party would achieve a breakthrough on the national political scene. Not that they would elect a president, but that they would become a serious force to be reckoned with. After all, the Libertarians have a message that ought to resonate with both the millennials and many of us aging, self-obsessed baby boomers. They say you should be able to do whatever you want in your private life. Smoke pot, have sex with consenting adults of whatever flavor you fancy — that should be none of the government's business. But except for some minimal functions like national defense, don't expect the government to be the nanny state that provides for you. Libertarians say you'd pay a lot less in taxes if they were in charge, and get absolutely no wars unless this nation were attacked. That's a philosophy tailor-made to appeal to any fairly affluent 20-something who has read The Fountainhead. But for some reason, the Libertarians have never really managed to be taken seriously. Oh, they've elected a state legislator here and there. The Michigan Libertarian Party proudly brags they have city council members in South Haven and Hazel Park, but that's about as successful as they've got. Part of the problem is that Libertarians are often seen as, well, one bubble off plumb, as a carpenter I know might say. Take James Weeks, a Libertarian candidate for Livingston County sheriff. He won national notice last month at the party's convention in Florida, but not for his eloquence. Weeks stripped his clothes off at the podium and did a little dance, wearing only a thong. Unfortunately, as Detroit's Metro Times put it, he has "an unconventional body type for a strip-tease performer." This did not help the party's overall image. Nevertheless, there are signs the Libertarians may do better this year than ever before. Michigan was one of only two states where they weren't on the ballot last time. This year they are, and the party seems on course to winning ballot access on all 50 states. Flying pretty much under the radar, former New Mexico governor Gary Johnson four years ago became the first Libertarian presidential candidate to get more than a million votes. This year, Johnson is running again, this time with William Weld, a former liberal Republican governor of Massachusetts as his running mate. They are running as high as 11 percent in some national polls, and Johnson's goal is to get that up to 15 percent, which would mean he'd be included in televised debates. That's unlikely to happen. But with this year's deep dissatisfaction with Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump, I wouldn't be surprised to see the Libertarians get five million votes or more. The conventional wisdom is that they will damage Trump, though Johnson himself thinks he may take more votes from Clinton. Even ten percent wouldn't be enough to establish them as a legitimate political party; that would take a lot of victories for lower level offices. Yet this is a year when the Libertarians may finally have a chance to get the nation to take their views seriously. Provided, that they keep their pants on. Jack Lessenberry is Michigan Radio's political analyst. Views expressed in his essays are his own and do not necessarily reflect those of Michigan Radio, its management or the station licensee, The University of Michigan.

State Senator David Knezek, a 29-year-old Democrat from Dearborn, has the kind of background most young politicians would envy. His dad was a cop; his mother, a school lunch lady. He got out of high school, walked into a U.S. Marine recruiting station, and ended up doing two tours of duty in Iraq, with a sniper platoon. He was promoted to sergeant. He got out of the service, and promptly earned a degree in political science at the U of M Dearborn. A month before he got his degree, he was elected to the state house of representatives. Two years later, in 2014, he was elected by a landslide to the state senate. Today, he's still two months from his 30th birthday. But he is no longer thrilled with the way things are going. Last week, when the legislature rammed through a package that is more likely to destroy the Detroit Public School system than save it, he told Michigan Radio's Cynthia Canty, "I have never been as ashamed to be a legislator as I am today." Then, Sunday, after the bloodiest mass slaying in American history, Knezek posted a long and agonizing cry on Facebook. He said he was deeply shaken by the Orlando massacre. "I carried a gun for years in the military. I had extensive training in how and when to use it. I believe that I am a responsible gun owner because the Marine Corps properly trained me to be one." But in Michigan, he said, people can be certified after just a few hours training – "or they pay the right person off and they get the certification without ever having attended the class." "I don't know what the answer is to gun violence in this country," he says, before revealing that of course he does know: Enacting laws that, "if they can't stop EVERY gun death ... might stop SOME gun deaths." As he notes, "This morning's (alleged) shooter obtained his gun legally despite being the subject of two FBI investigations. Think about that for a moment. Why, after such convincing evidence to the contrary, would we ever allow someone like that to obtain a gun legally?" He knows that too many of us are resigned to thinking that no massacre, no matter how horrific, will ever break the power of the National Rifle Association, which for years has successfully prevented any meaningful law to protect citizens from gun violence from being enacted. Yet this young Marine refuses to give up. "Surely, level heads can come together and find some sort of solution," Knezek wrote. "Surely some progress can be made. Surely?" Or maybe not. As he wrote, "Politicians, people like me, will do one of two things now: Offer up prayers and do absolutely nothing in response, or renew their attacks on the entire Muslim community for the actions of a few. Both are irresponsible and dangerous paths to continue down." Yet we've been on these paths for years. An old politician told me last week that in his time, men in college dorms talked mostly about women and politics. Now, he said, they don't talk much about politics, because they no longer think anybody can change anything. That just might be the scariest news of all. Jack Lessenberry is Michigan Radio's political analyst. Views expressed in his essays are his own and do not necessarily reflect those of Michigan Radio, its management or the station licensee, The University of Michigan.

Detroit Mayor Mike Duggan was as angry as I've ever seen him late last week. For months, members of both parties in the state senate had worked with the governor to forge a rare bipartisan compromise to save Detroit Public Schools. They came up with a figure needed to wipe out the debt and manage transition costs, and agreed to establish a Detroit Education Commission that would decide where any new schools, conventional or charter, could open. The idea was to maintain balance and not have destructive competition in some areas while leaving other areas underserved. But last week, the strident partisan ideologues who run the state house of representatives demonstrated their complete contempt for compromise and bipartisanship, as well as for Detroit and its children. Led by Speaker of the House Kevin Cotter, they rammed through a bill that didn't provide anything like enough money to allow the schools to make it. The Republican house bill also allows uncertified teachers to be hired by DPS, and is far more interested in punishing teachers and administrators for striking than in making sure kids can learn. And house Republicans, many of whom have been financially supported by the charter school lobby, refused to allow any restraint on the crabgrass-like spread of charter schools. Their bill was so blatantly horrible Detroit Free Press columnist Stephen Henderson said "we really ought to round up the lawmakers who took money to protect and perpetuate the failing charter-school experiment in Detroit, sew them into burlap sacks with rabid animals, and toss them into the Straits of Mackinac." Governor Rick Snyder, who had been a big supporter of the state senate plan, instantly signaled that, as usual, he would cave in and sign whatever was put on his desk. But this week, something astonishing happened. The state Senate fought back. Senator Goeff Hanson of Hart, the main architect of their bill, indicated he wouldn't accept what the House sent over, partly because it was angrily opposed by every legislator from Detroit, but also because it eliminated the Detroit Education Commission, which he has come to believe was necessary to give the schools a fighting chance. Senate Majority Leader Arlan Meekhof realized he had a major problem. The original senate plan passed only because it had strong support from most of the minority Democrats. Half the Republican caucus voted no, because they had no interest in helping Detroit schools. Now, any bill resembling what came out of the house will have no Democratic support. "We wanted it to be bipartisan," Meekhof said yesterday. He is trying to cobble votes together from Republicans who rejected the original plan, but might support this one because it demands no accountability from charters, all of which operate on taxpayer dollars. The house leadership ought to have been further embarrassed by the Senate Fiscal Agency's discovery that the numbers in the House package are essentially garbage, and that close to a hundred million more will be needed just to balance the books. The original sensible compromise crafted by the senate is what legislation used to look like before lawmaking was distorted by hyper-partisanship and term limits. The house bill is what we now tend to get instead. What happens next will say volumes about whether the system still can be made to work. Jack Lessenberry is Michigan Radio's political analyst. Views expressed in his essays are his own and do not necessarily reflect those of Michigan Radio, its management or the station licensee, The University of Michigan.

Metropolitan Detroit is the nation's only major urban area with absolutely no mass transit from the airport either to the downtown or to major suburban areas. What may be even worse is that there is also no reliable and timely way for most people to get from their homes to their jobs in less than an hour, other than a private automobile. Since more than a quarter of adult Detroiters have no cars, there is no practical way for most of them to get out of poverty. That's why we were transfixed last year by the so-called "walking man," James Robertson, who walked more than 20 miles to and from work every day. This wasn't a stunt. It was the only way he could get there. But few have his work ethic or stamina. Well, this year we are finally going to have what will likely be the only chance we'll ever get at workable, regional, mass transit. The three-year-old Regional Transit Authority of Southeast Michigan, the RTA, unveiled its master plan last week in what was designed to be a coordinated one-two punch – first at Lawrence Technological University in Southfield, and then before all the movers and shakers three hundred miles away at the Mackinac Conference. Unfortunately, the announcement didn't get as much attention as it deserved. This may have been because a lot of attention was focused on the battle to save Detroit Public schools, and the fact that Flint is still such a large part of the conversation. That's unfortunate, because the RTA plan is not only brilliant and affordable, but could be a total economic game-changer for this region. I watched last week as a procession of speakers – black and white, Republican and Democrat, business and government – spoke up enthusiastically in favor of this plan. Voters in four major counties will be asked in November to agree to levy a new 1.2 mill property tax to pay for the RTA. If you rent, this will cost you nothing. If you own a house worth $200,000, it will cost you about $120 dollars a year. That is, by the way, a little less than I spent to take Metro car taxis to and from the airport twice last winter. If the RTA is built, within a few years I won't have to do that anymore. I'll just have to get to a nearby station and board a special bus which will in some ways be more like a train, and travel in its own special lane. Long before that, all sorts of new conventional bus routes would open up and the Detroit and suburban bus systems finally made to logically mesh together and with light rail systems. This is a wide-ranging, multi-platform, fully integrated coordinated transportation plan that is essential if we are to be competitive. The only question is whether the voters will be mature enough to see that. No major political figure opposes the RTA; even Oakland County Executive Brooks Patterson, a longtime mass transit foe, has said favorable things. But there are those who would oppose another dime of new taxes to save the planet from exploding, and this knee-jerk mentality is the biggest threat against our future economic progress. This might just be the most important thing on the ballot this year. Jack Lessenberry is Michigan Radio's political analyst. Views expressed in his essays are his own and do not necessarily reflect those of Michigan Radio, its management or the station licensee, The University of Michigan.

Forty-eight years ago today, Robert Francis Kennedy died in Los Angeles, shot by a lunatic after he claimed victory in that year's California Democratic primary. Kennedy, in his final campaign in that truly horrible year, often stunned reporters by his willingness to speak truth to power. Nobody, whether they loved or hated him, ever had any doubt what RFK stood for. Which is something, regretfully, that can't be said for Governor Rick Snyder. I didn't attend last year's Mackinac Policy Conference, but I can tell you that the contrast was dramatic between the way Snyder came across this year and the way he was received in other years. The conference is put on by the Detroit Regional Chamber of Commerce, and those who attend it are a largely business-oriented community, overwhelmingly Republican. In past years, they've regarded Snyder with something between admiration and adoration, and he's come across like a conquering hero. That wasn't the case this year, when he opened Mackinac with a rambling, defensive and faintly embarrassing monologue. Any time a politician begins a speech by saying "the reports of my demise are well-overblown," you know they are in trouble. He went on to blame the media for having a pessimistic attitude about the disaster in Flint, and said that talking to them "was like talking to Eeyore," the gloomy donkey in the Winnie-the-Pooh books. While the governor did admit poisoning the city's water was "a major setback" he said "Let's not dwell on the past. Let's not dwell on what went wrong. Let's learn from it." And in a cringe-worthy moment, he asked those listening words to the effect of "haven't you had anything go wrong in your lives?" Well, I suspect it would be hard not to want Flint behind you, even though it isn't going away. And to the governor's credit, while he was asleep at the switch for far too long, he has belatedly stepped up and owned his responsibility. But what baffles me is if he has a moral bottom line. Most recently, Snyder fought for a comprehensive plan to save and reform Detroit Public Schools, a plan that had bipartisan support. Key to it was the creation of a Detroit Education Commission, which would determine where any new schools, conventional or charter, could open, and prevent horrible ones from defrauding students year after year. The senate passed it. Detroit Mayor Mike Duggan enthusiastically supported it. But the state house, many of whose members take money from the charter school lobby, sabotaged and destroyed school reform. They passed instead a bill which the Detroit Free Press editorial page editor succinctly called "bought and paid for garbage." You might expect the governor to angrily announce he would veto the bill, but that won't happen. The state house has sabotaged him again and again, and the governor hasn't stood up to them. And this week, he said he plans to work hard to reelect the Republican majority in the house, because, "we've had a great partnership there, and I think it would be great to continue that." Had Democrats held the house, his school and road packages would probably have passed. If you can make some sense of what our governor stands for, you are doing better than me. Jack Lessenberry is Michigan Radio's political analyst. Views expressed in his essays are his own and do not necessarily reflect those of Michigan Radio, its management or the station licensee, The University of Michigan.

orty-eight years ago today, Robert Francis Kennedy died in Los Angeles, shot by a lunatic after he claimed victory in that year's California Democratic primary. Listen Listening...3:08 Jack Lessenberry for Monday June 6, 2016 Kennedy, in his final campaign in that truly horrible year, often stunned reporters by his willingness to speak truth to power. Nobody, whether they loved or hated him, ever had any doubt what RFK stood for. Which is something, regretfully, that can't be said for Governor Rick Snyder. I didn't attend last year's Mackinac Policy Conference, but I can tell you that the contrast was dramatic between the way Snyder came across this year and the way he was received in other years. The conference is put on by the Detroit Regional Chamber of Commerce, and those who attend it are a largely business-oriented community, overwhelmingly Republican. In past years, they've regarded Snyder with something between admiration and adoration, and he's come across like a conquering hero. That wasn't the case this year, when he opened Mackinac with a rambling, defensive and faintly embarrassing monologue. Any time a politician begins a speech by saying "the reports of my demise are well-overblown," you know they are in trouble. He went on to blame the media for having a pessimistic attitude about the disaster in Flint, and said that talking to them "was like talking to Eeyore," the gloomy donkey in the Winnie-the-Pooh books. While the governor did admit poisoning the city's water was "a major setback" he said "Let's not dwell on the past. Let's not dwell on what went wrong. Let's learn from it." And in a cringe-worthy moment, he asked those listening words to the effect of "haven't you had anything go wrong in your lives?" Well, I suspect it would be hard not to want Flint behind you, even though it isn't going away. And to the governor's credit, while he was asleep at the switch for far too long, he has belatedly stepped up and owned his responsibility. But what baffles me is if he has a moral bottom line. Most recently, Snyder fought for a comprehensive plan to save and reform Detroit Public Schools, a plan that had bipartisan support. Key to it was the creation of a Detroit Education Commission, which would determine where any new schools, conventional or charter, could open, and prevent horrible ones from defrauding students year after year. The senate passed it. Detroit Mayor Mike Duggan enthusiastically supported it. But the state house, many of whose members take money from the charter school lobby, sabotaged and destroyed school reform. They passed instead a bill which the Detroit Free Press editorial page editor succinctly called "bought and paid for garbage." You might expect the governor to angrily announce he would veto the bill, but that won't happen. The state house has sabotaged him again and again, and the governor hasn't stood up to them. And this week, he said he plans to work hard to reelect the Republican majority in the house, because, "we've had a great partnership there, and I think it would be great to continue that." Had Democrats held the house, his school and road packages would probably have passed. If you can make some sense of what our governor stands for, you are doing better than me. Jack Lessenberry is Michigan Radio's political analyst. Views expressed in his essays are his own and do not necessarily reflect those of Michigan Radio, its management or the station licensee, The University of Michigan.

Dr. Mona Hanna-Attisha, who you might call the woman who saved the children of Flint, was only given fifteen minutes to talk at the Mackinac Policy Conference, a brief space sandwiched between other events Wednesday, called a "Mackinac Moment." But it was by far the most compelling session of the conference. She showed a picture of one of her young patients she recently examined, a child who had been drinking lead-contaminated water until quite recently. "Her mom asked me, 'Is she going to be okay?' What do I tell her mom? Do I tell her she has been drinking through a lead-painted straw? Do I tell her what science shows lead can do?" Hanna-Attisha's message was so powerful and her speaking style so compelling that it occurred to me that the candidates for governor ought to be grateful she has no interest in running for office. After her talk, I sat down with her for a few moments. Last September, Hanna-Attisha, a pediatrician at the Hurley Medical Center in Flint, put her career on the line, holding a press conference to announce Flint's children were being poisoned by lead in the water. She and her research were immediately denounced by the state. The Michigan Department of Environmental Quality called her research "irresponsible." But before long, she was vindicated, and some of those who sneered at her were fired. Ever since then, she's been fighting for the children. She does constant interviews, speeches, and still sees patients and runs a program – all without the benefit of a single handler or PR firm. I was curious to know how she did it. "Oh, in science we have this thing called cloning now – there are really about nine of me," she laughed. Her husband, Elliott Attisha, is also a physician who has been incredibly supportive of his wife's work. Her two daughters, who are 7 and 10, maybe not so much. "Ever since you became famous you are never home," the seven year old told her. "Can we get a cat?" "We're not getting a cat," her mom said. She then showed me a picture of the cat, an orange tabby named Simba, with her adorable daughter. These days, when Dr. Mona talks, the world listens. I was curious as to whether she planned to use her bully pulpit to speak out on other children's health issues. "Many people have asked me that," she told me, "but I want to stick on this issue right now." Flint's children, she told me, will need help for years and years, and she wants to make sure they aren't forgotten. Once a week, she is part of a group who meet with Governor Snyder, whose administration tried to destroy her credibility. "It was a little awkward at first, but it's fine now. I feel that he has owned his responsibility," she told me. "Besides," she added, "I'm going to have to get along with the next five governors, because that's how long this problem will last." By the way, Dr. Mona is an immigrant, born in Great Britain in 1976 to parents who fled Iraq. She has said that if Donald Trump was president, "I wouldn't be allowed here." Think what a tragedy that might have been. Jack Lessenberry is Michigan Radio's political analyst. Views expressed in his essays are his own and do not necessarily reflect those of Michigan Radio, its management or the station licensee, The University of Michigan.