Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, Episode 9

Steering Committee Syndrome Unleashed, The Kiss 

By Robert Yarnall

Read the rest of the Whiskey Tango Foxtrot series:
Episode 1 – Getting Ready To Fish
Episode 2 – Watchaug Bites
Episode 3 – Avoiding Car Sickness
Episode 4 – Bait & Switch (Not!)
Episode 5 – Still Baiting, Still Switching…
Episode 6 – Mother Gooser & Friends
Episode 7 – Under the Radar with L-T
Episode 8 – Steering Committee Syndrome Unleashed, The Prelude
Episode 9 – Steering Committee Syndrome Unleashed, The Kiss
Episode 10 – Snagged on the Epilog Epic-Log
There it is.

Judge Judith Savage slaps the proverbial  “Return To Sender” rubber stamp on the Whalerock All-You-Can-Eat Lawsuit Buffet, and drives assorted piggies digging deep for any truffle of a rationale, snorting analytical snippets that have all the style and substance of toddler mucus.

Speaking as a check-writing, check-writing, check-writing (check three, I’m outta’ here) Illwinder, I could see this coming from Day One when Whalerock Abutters & Beyond, LLC, first met as a group of stakeholders, or maybe vampires, depending on your point of view.

We gathered, by invitation or otherwise, at the Sachem Passage home of Ron & Maureen Areglado, both former school administrators with a penchant for organizational strategizing. The saying among us teachers is that once a principal, always a principal. In good faith and humor, I challenge anyone to disprove this time-tested axiom.

It was here that Joe Dolock’s business-based analysis of Whalerock was politely dismissed as being not relevant to the emotionally charged Doomsday scenario that had developed when the wraps came off LeBlanc’s twin turbine monstrosity.

It was also here that the applicability of a Providence Journal Special Report detailing the criminal activity of Dennis DiPrete, owner of DiPrete Engineering, the firm Larry LeBlanc selected to design and promote both Ninigret Hamlet and Whalerock, was also deemed as not relevant.

By way of disclosure, it was yours truly, a lifetime Rho Dylander and tri-decade Charlestown resident, who asked the neighborhood group to consider the necessity of reading the full Projo report in order to fully understand the implications of the proposed business partnership and the powerful Rhode Island network that exists among land developers, state legislators, and special interest groups.

My comments were interrupted by Partridge Family spokesperson Kristan O’Connor, who stated succinctly, “I’m tired of hearing about the ‘Rhode Island good old boy’ network, the ‘Rhode Island’ way of doing things. Those days are over.”

Really? Does anyone else believe that? Go ahead, throw some more money into the wishing well. Good luck. You’ll need either a mile-high stash of dimes or a dime stash that’ll get you a mile high.  Probably both.

In any struggle, in any venue, the common wisdom is to learn everything there is to know about your opponent. Common fools ignore Sun Tzu’s timeless advice.  Uncommon fools do the same.

After thirty years of Faculty Meetings, Curriculum Workshops, In-Service Training Seminars, State Assessment Conferences, Federal Education Policy Symposiums and Charlestown Public Hearings, I feel confident to state the following:

When you hear the word “stakeholders,” bend over. A predisposed plan is heading your way. The drivers of the stake, aka steering committees, know exactly what outcome they want the group to embrace.  Your job is simply to brace yourself, hand over your wallet, and refrain from asking questions. Obsequious butt-kissing comments are welcome, but not mandatory.

On the Second Day of Christmas, the next neighborhood meeting following the inaugural unveiling of the Partridge Pear Tree, CCA carrier pigeons Dan Slattery and Tom Gentz fluttered in just before Joe Dolock ducked out.

We were treated to a prototypical Tom Gentz proclamation of something-or-other, as well as a trademark Dan Slattery litany of alleged phone conversations he, Dan Slattery, former Justice Department investigator, had conducted single-handedly, all by himself, with an array of highly placed fellow federal bureaucrats who seemed, as a group, to suggest that the chances of Larry LeBlanc’s twin turbine wind energy tax credit scheme ever seeing the light of day were zippo point zilch. Zero. Nada.

After listening to Dan’s presentation, I’m thinking, “Ok, this guy sounds like he knows what he’s talking about, so why even bother going any further? This Whalerock thing’s dead on arrival.”

The next thing I know, we’re reaching for our checkbooks (relax, Miguel, figuratively speaking…) while under the influence of fresh coffee and truly fine baked goods. Feeding the masses. Kissing up to the CCA guys, joking, shaking hands, doing all good things people do when they hop into the same boat for a chartered fishing trip, where someone else does the steering while you buy the diesel.

After awhile, I stuffed a few brownies in an oversize napkin and beat a path up the street toward my house. I remember it being almost ten o’clock, not too late to stop in at the lieutenant’s across the street, because 10:00 pm Eastern Standard Time time is only about 6:30 pm Dolock Standard Time. I found Joe at his dining room table, sipping coffee and reading a newspaper.

“Where’d you go?” I asked.

“Nowhere, just came here…”

Back to the coffee, Joe wasn’t talking much. He offered me a cup, but it was late in my world, so I worked my way around the golden lab beastie boys and headed for home.

That was just about two years ago. Thinking back, or “reflecting” as stakeholder group facilitators like to say as they steer the folks to some predisposed, preferred outcome for that day’s topic, Joe probably didn’t have much to say. Eventually, as you know if you’ve been following the series, he told me the story.

My belief is that Judge Judith Savage, in authoring the aptly named Dolock Decision, professionally applied the requisite elements of judicial style necessary to write her comprehensive fifty-one-page document. But similar to the namesake of her prolific legal opinion, she most likely didn’t have very much to say, either.

What Judge Savage probably whispered, out of earshot of her law clerks, was this:

“Whiskey…Tango…Foxtrot…”

Out.