Over at Channel 3000, there’s a story about a United States Marine, serving in Afghanistan against the Taliban, whose house was flooded because of problems a City of Whitewater employee reportedly admitted were the city’s fault. (I have never met the officer in the story; my remarks are without personal connection.)

In a story entitled, Wisconsin Marine Facing Sewer Battle At Home: City Of Whitewater Admits Blockage In City Line Caused Back-Up”, Marine Officer First Lt. Joe Cull recounts that  

‘So I get a phone call, and he said, ‘Hey, the city’s sewer backed up and it’s caused a bunch of damage,'” Cull said, in an interview from Afghanistan. “(There was) eight to 12 inches of water and sewage in the whole basement of my house’… 

A sewer back-up in early July filled Cull’s basement with water and raw sewage. The City of Whitewater admitted that the back-up was the result of a blockage in a city-owned sewer main — off of Cull’s property and underneath the road, WISC-TV reported. Regardless of the admission, the city still won’t pay for the damage. Cull said, as a taxpayer, it’s just not right.

Here’s a television report from WISC-TV on the story: 

Does anyone from Whitewater’s municipal government have anything to say?  Well, yes.  Dean Fischer — Whitewater’s Director of Public Works — declares that “I understand his frustration totally….Again, we can’t control every discharge from a home that could cause a blockage.” Channel 3000 reports that a city worker has admitted that the damage was “our problem.”    

Note that Cull doesn’t expect compensation as a Marine, but as a taxpayer: “My service over here is strictly voluntary — and I don’t think the city of Whitewater owes me anything for it….But what I do think they owe me for is the fact that I pay taxes, just like everybody else who lives on my street.” 

Quick remarks: 

Fischer’s theory.  At least Fischer acknowledges the frustration someone would feel.  After that, his remarks are less sensible.   

Fischer’s right about not being able to control every discharge, but that’s not the issue here.  It’s not every discharge, but some discharges for which the city might be negligent.  That’s why, in the Channel 3000 report, there’s a reference to an insurance company letter to Cull claiming “no negligence.”  Even the insurance carrier considers the possibility of negligence.  

Does Fischer understand this difference?  I’m not sure.  If he doesn’t, then he shouldn’t be speaking for the city, on camera or in print.  If he does, but has conflated by design the concepts of mere cause and negligence, then he shouldn’t be speaking for the city, on camera or in print.  I have no idea, but either way, he’s not the one to handle the interview.  

Where’s the City Manager?  You know, every time there’s a ribbon-cutting, or awards ceremony, or task force, I seem to read that Whitewater City Manager Kevin Brunner was there.  When someone has to explain a problem to the press, not so much, it seems…  

The City of Whitewater website is littered with a listing of all the roles he supposedly plays.  He has the title, the office, the roles, the accolades, and the image as the Very Model of a Modern Day Manager.  

Shifting standards.  Note how Whitewater officials reject a general standard when it suits them (more restrictive, more intrusive than other American communities), but embrace a cosmopolitan approach when that approach suits them (how other communities supposedly handle liability).     

The Press.  Well, this is a significant story, about tens of thousands of dollars in damage.  You won’t find it in every place you might expect to see news, though.

Why? I don’t know.  It’s not a pretty story, about successes, triumph, infallibility — the kind of stories Whitewater’s tired, dissipated town squires like so much. 

There are other stories that our town grandees won’t discuss, and would prefer you didn’t hear about, perhaps because they don’t fit a tidy, happy narrative.

Contentions about scrupulous objectivity, though, are just self-serving, simply bias by another name.  Everything I write is commentary; so is what you may read elsewhere, all the pretending in the world notwithstanding. more >>

I thought I’d take a moment to illustrate how different types of people, from normal people, descending to Whitewater’s politicians and bureaucrats, might describe a simple automobile accident.

NORMAL PEOPLE: We were driving along, not paying attention to the road, and our car veered off onto the shoulder. We hit a rock, and got a flat tire.

SLIGHTLY ABNORMAL PEOPLE: We were driving along, doing our very best, and a gust of wind pushed the car to the shoulder of the road, and a hard-to-see rock punctured our tire. It was eerie.

PREDOMINANTLY ABNORMAL PEOPLE: We were driving along, and somehow, we’re not sure how, we wound up by the side of the road. We noticed the car had a flat tire.

COMPLETELY ABNORMAL PEOPLE: We were driving along, listening to William Shatner’s rendition of Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, and a spaceship from another world locked our car in a tractor beam, and forced the car into a rock. The creatures operating the spaceship said they disliked us, and used a phaser to blast a really big hole in one of our tires.

WHITEWATER POLITICIANS AND BUREAUCRATS: We were driving along, as we always do, in complete conformity with the 232 guidelines of the Municipal Road Safety Handbook, Third Edition.

Just as we were remarking on the importance of building a better community for our fellow residents, a squirrel jumped from the edge of the road, onto the hood of our car. We quickly refreshed ourselves on suggestions in the City Manager’s Guide for Squirrel Evasion and Familiar Quotations.

(We always try to read a few pages each night, before drinking a glass of warm milk, and thinking good thoughts about our town’s progress.)

The squirrel was red — a telltale sign of an anti-government radical — and had no collar or name tag. We don’t appreciate untagged squirrels, no mater how much we love all animals.

The squirrel deliberately threw himself on our windshield, obstructing our view of the road. Despite our most valiant and highly special efforts, we drove off the road — through no fault of our own — onto the shoulder. While easing our well-maintained and extremely professional-looking vehicle to a stop, we lightly impacted a large stone object. The aforesaid object caused a gradual reduction in tire pressure, commonly known as a flat tire.

We will circulate a community bulletin on safe-squirrel procedures, and depending on the volume of questions we receive, may authorize a task force to address seventeen possible responses to squirrel-induced flat tires.