Scott Maddox's sordid story is not the story of this community | Opinion
Mary Ann Lindley
While attempting to connect the dots during the federal corruption trial of Florida businessman J.T. Burnette, I came to a full stop with his tip to an FBI undercover cop.
To the agent trying to worm his way into a business deal needing City Commission support, Burnette advised that then-Commissioner Scott Maddox was the most "sophisticated" of local officials — meaning the go-to guy for bribery.
Setting aside the proposition that I was more naïve than I'd thought during my eight years on the Leon County Commission, I am sure Maddox's sordid story is not the story of this community.
Tallahassee doesn't deserve such a black eye, or casual cancel culture speculation that government corruption is rampant.
Maddox's Olympian gift for deception masquerading as charm became obvious during the Burnette trial for extortion under the withering eye of no-nonsense federal Judge Robert Hinkle.
Burnette told his sordid tale to the jury, as a co-defendant of Maddox and girlfriend Paige Carter-Smith, whose loyalty to Maddox is the stuff of country-western ballads.
I feel betrayed by Maddox, whom I've known for decades as a journalist and while serving on city-county boards.
It's unlikely that many people in Maddox's orbit were ever blinded by his propensity for BS, but we erred in thinking it was political theater.
Burnette's defense echoed that blowing smoke was just part of the game he and Maddox played, nothing felonious to see here.
Recently, however, City Commissioner Jeremy Matlow suggested in a harsh opinion column that not only does City Hall host a toxic culture perpetuated by Maddox, but also that local business leaders are part of a power-hungry cabal.
Matlow speculates that events such as Chamber of Commerce retreats, which Matlow doesn't attend, are ripe for corruption, because in 2015, undercover FBI agents worked the Chamber retreat in Sandestin when they were hound-dogging Maddox.
That's a sweeping and unfair judgment.
As a successful small-business owner himself, Matlow is exactly the kind of person I met — almost entirely — when I attended Chamber retreats as a county commissioner.
Owners of large companies do attend. But retreat participants are primarily small-business owners taking advantage of a resort vacation for the family while they network and learn from with others who are also running businesses with local payrolls.
Shortly after Matlow won a seat on the City Commission in 2018, my husband and I were getting a pizza at his Gaines Street Pies. Out of curiosity, I asked our server what she thought of her boss, the brand new city commissioner.
She gushed how great a guy Matlow is; what a good boss.
He should feel great about that, yet in elected office, you're not the boss. You're one voice on a collegial board that hires a manager to run the shop. You don't pull strings or get involved in the hiring, promotion or firing of employees.
But you do well to acknowledge that, as part of a board, your fellow commissioners are occasionally worth listening to, and you might attempt to build bridges more than throw bombs. Otherwise, you become the Party of No, and have little to show for your time in public office other than sitting in judgment.
A relatively small circle of influential people sometimes will play an outsized role in government issues — though familiar civic influencers weigh in on everything from development to environment, public health, neighborhood protection and taxes.
When it came to influence, I came to grudgingly think of people like Burnette and his powerful wife Kim Rivers as "energy centers." I didn't admire them as much as I acknowledged their influence in a community where growth that creates jobs is the necessary antithesis of stagnation, poverty and crime.
These so-called energy centers are human dynamos with the gumption, talent and risk-taking DNA that it takes to transform landscapes, create jobs, housing and the unique businesses that give our community its mojo.
Local government is sometimes in partnership with these human dynamos through land-use and other codes. But local government also works in tandem with small business owners, colleges and universities, neighborhoods and civic groups.
In the role of a public servant, I learned that you couldn't be effective by staying on the outside judging and avoiding people you may not particularly love being around, but need to understand.
Leadership requires being in the room — or as Teddy Roosevelt famously put it "in the arena" — and preferably with some humor, authenticity and open ears.
That room provides a public official a chance to share his or her values and thoughts on community life, while at the same time getting to know men and women who work hard to make Tallahassee a desirable place to live, work and play.
Federal corruption charges involving a former political figure whose circles of influence blacken the eye of Tallahassee is a profound shame. It's humanity's recurring lesson about power and greed that corrupts.
But our story is better than that, more positive, more hopeful, more compassionate and wise. Tribalism, stridency and cynicism will bring our community down faster than any FBI sting.
Mary Ann Lindley is a former editorial page editor for the Tallahassee Democrat who served as a Leon County Commissioner for two terms.
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