The last time I uttered those above words was over a decade ago, and when I used them back then, I also added a caveat. What I told the young man I was mentoring was, “If you don’t change your behavior — in other words, if you don’t get your shit together — you can tear up my number.”
He was fresh home from the joint after serving 18 years (he went in at age 18) and was trying to make up for all of the “female companionship” he’d been denied for close to two decades. He was hitting on anything in a skirt: Young, old, fat, thin, pretty, and pretty damn ugly — it didn’t matter to him. If they were over 18 they were good to go.
But his studies at Cleveland State — where he was a year or so shy of a bachelor’s degree since he’d taken every class that he could while in prison — were beginning to suffer. My admonition worked, he got his shit together and now is happily married with a couple of kids.
However, as I’ve been doing more often as of late, again, I digress.
The reason I recall this story is that recently I myself was told by someone to “tear up my number.” But I found it completely hilarious primarily because I’d never had Tony George’s phone number in the first place, and secondly, I would never have had a reason to ever call him even if I did. I knew him well enough to speak, but it’s not like we were friends, let alone buddies.
If this was his way of expressing his displeasure at something I’ve written about him, he has to get in that long-assed line — the one which circles around the block — twice. I can honestly say that I’ve never written one word with the intent of having someone get pissed off at me. But on the other hand, if my truth-telling causes such a result — oh well. His panties won’t stay bunched up forever I suppose, but then again, maybe they will, since he was really pissed.
But what the hell was he thinking: I’m not looking for a handout from him (or from anyone else for that matter), not like some of the black politicians he thinks he can buy on the cheap. The nerve!
Allow me to give you the back story: Over the last few weeks, I’ve been writing about the upcoming effort to shrink the size of Cleveland City Council from 17 down to nine and to cut their pay by over 20 percent, an initiative George is behind — for all the wrong reasons. I’m unalterably opposed to a reduction being carried out capriciously and spitefully at the behest of some rich dude from Westlake. You can read my previous postings on this issue for a better understanding of my position.
What I’ve been trying to do is to inform this personal friend of Donald Trump (as well as the general public) that the type of political influence-peddling he’s attempting to practice went out of style back when Jimmy Dimora went to the joint. I’m not going to stand by and do nothing as some Boss Tweed wannabe attempts to turn back the clock and remake Cleveland into Tammany Hall of the mid-1800s.
The fact that Tony George had the audacity to call and tell me to “tear up my number” when I’ve never had it, and in fact have only been face to face with this dude perhaps once or twice in my life (and then just because I happened to be with someone else who knew him) is demonstrative of his mindset. He evidently thinks he’s the hog with the big nuts around Cuyahoga County, or he really wants to be.
The sad thing is, some voters are sometimes foolish enough to fall for anything, so his effort to reduce the size of city council has a chance of passing. But my goal now, as it will be in the future, is to prevent this political throwback from controlling the politics of the City of Cleveland.
There’s a Sanskrit proverb from the 4th century BC that states, “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” So when Tony George told me to tear his number up, I’m assuming that he now considers us to be enemies — in spite of the fact that we were never really friends.
If that’s the case, does it then follow that I should consider any friends of Tony George to be my enemies? If so, then fine, so be it. As a professional journalist I’ve never sought to make enemies; to me, politics is a stone-cold business, nothing more, but certainly nothing less.
However, I’ve never soft-peddled my opinions for fear of whom I might piss off, and if this is the way Tony George (or anyone else) wants to play the political game, then all I can say is I play to win, and they can bring it on. I absolutely love hardball.
One Response to “MANSFIELD: Tear Up My Number”
Sandra
I’m right with you on this. If members of City Council are sleepy enough to let this happen then shame on them. Why isn’t George trying to be a boss in Westlake? Likely because they would invite him to have several seats.