Crystal Wise
When all the dirt and grime had cleared, the hyperbole had been turned down to low on volume on their Sony, Bose, or Beats Pill, and the ballots dumped in a recycling bin — or wherever they go — Fort Worth’s municipal elections had turned the City Council of a city on the rise upside down.
Gone were six incumbents, including Mayor Betsy Price, who declined to run a sixth time, and Jungus Jordan, sent to the sideline after 16 years on council, a runoff loser to a young, political neophyte from southwest Fort Worth.
At 37, Mattie Parker became the youngest mayor of a major U.S. city. Following her up the steps of the soon-to-be-discarded City Council chambers — in the very near future, City Hall is moving into Marvin Girourd’s beautiful pride and joy, a high-rise just west of downtown, the one-time nerve center of Pier One — were five new members to the city’s governing board.
This office in City Hall is entrusted to nonpartisans. No one runs with any label, none being needed — keep the lights on, the water running, and developers honest following codes.
That’s all academic theory, of course. For those bothering to put aside their gaming or other pastime for a few minutes to pay attention to their city government, they know the lay of the land and where our citizen politicians and policymakers stand as partisans.
And it was clear that Fort Worth’s council had turned a Democrat hue of blue, by a 5-4 margin, and we’d all be governed by rookies who were nothing alike, their backgrounds each as different as Ted Lasso and Bill Belichick.
And of the newbies, three indeed tote around the label of “Democrat,” and two “Republican.”
In District 3 Michael Crain arrived, succeeding Brian Byrd, the good doctor who wanted to be mayor but fell short in 2021. Jared Williams had defeated Jordan in District 6. Leonard Firestone had succeeded Dennis Shingleton, who decided he didn’t want to run again in District 7. In District 8, Chris Nettles defeated incumbent Kelly Allen Gray, and in District 9 Elizabeth Beck, a one-time Texas House of Representatives candidate, won a seat on council, replacing Ann Zadeh, who stepped aside for her own run at the city’s top political office.
Among the things Jefferson wrote from his writing desk at Monticello all those years ago while sipping on his Bordeaux was that, that first office of government served is a splendid misery, and as politics go these days, these five were indeed expected to get along like cats and dogs, Paul and Yoko, the Kardashians, and the civilized world.
But rather than a splendid misery and fighting over territorial or political causes, these five, through the first several months of their tenures, are the exemplars of how politics can be everywhere and in every city.
To be sure, they’ve already had their disagreements — the cruising ordinance and redistricting, to name two — but they not only get along, they also like each other. No, they love each other. It’s amazing what happens when you sit down and get to know one another. Maybe share a scrumptious TX Whiskey from Firestone’s old distillery (he and his partner have sold) in District 8 at the former Glen Garden, which, as a golf course in the nostalgic past, was home to Hogan and Nelson.
We actually recently did just that, sat down with the New 5 one evening at Bonnell’s, the fine dining establishment of Jon Bonnell, a very good sir, if there ever was one. It was a Fort Worth kind of evening: Sitting around the bar, there was horseplay, great-natured teasing, a little cussin’, and stories shared about their visions and priorities.
Oh, and Mariah Carey’s royalties at Christmastime.
Crystal Wise
Elizabeth Beck
“I’ve learned that she makes $600,000 from November around Thanksgiving to Christmas,” Crain says incredulously about the earworm that beats many to the brink of tearing out their car radios. “Just that one song.”
“That’s only one of the greatest Christmas songs ever,” Beck rebuts.
While they have and will at times certainly disagree, ahem, like this, they have in common a deep love of the city and the neighborhoods they serve.
In Fort Worth, that’s a bond as thick as the blood of brothers and sisters with a shared family tree and all its glory, shortcomings, and failures.
Like any other family, and that’s what this crew has become: family.
“I would say we’re all relatively fresh from the campaign,” says Firestone. “And I think we found, probably, I won’t speak for everyone, but a lot of commonality among the neighborhoods. And we all represent neighborhoods, and we all probably have very similar conversations with people in those neighborhoods about what they care about. And that’s probably across the city. It is remarkably similar if not identical.”
Adds Crain: “I think when talking and even knocking on doors, talking to people and talking to constituents, we have far more in common than we do differences across the city. And we all, even my constituents that may not have ever traveled to another part of the city, still want the best for the city overall and want the best for the people in that part of the city. Even though our constituents might come from different backgrounds or do different jobs or do different things, in the end, they want what’s best for Fort Worth. And they understand that in essence, rising tides raise all.”
Crystal Wise
Leonard Firestone
The Status Quo, No Mo’
The closeness of the group reminds the writer of another time on the council, more than 30 years ago when first-timers David Chappell, Kay Granger, and Eugene McCray joined in 1989.
Chappell, who passed away late last year, said that trio’s relationship grew out of feelings of insecurity about how things work at City Council.
Firestone says that same factor is in play today as the five learn the ins and outs of city government. Firestone and the others are all quick to thank council member incumbents Carlos Flores, Cary Moon, and Gyna Bivens, as well as Parker, the former chief of staff to Price and the council, for assisting them in learning the ropes.
“When Gyna speaks, everyone listens,” Firestone jokes, sort of.
Those three of yesteryear, on the other hand, formed a formidable rookie coalition on council. However, that’s not particularly the case with these five, they all say.
“I would say that looking at the way on our council looks, the diversity that’s on our council is reflective of a bar that you’ll see anywhere in the city of Fort Worth,” says Williams. “And the conversations that we’re able to have as a team are reflective of the city of Fort Worth, the conversations that are happening in the city. But I think that’s powerful for where we’re trying to grow this thing collectively. And I would say the coalition is all of us, right? The coalition of Fort Worth residents wanting a world-class city. And I mean, you see that with the world-class council that’s willing to roll up our sleeves and work together.”
If there is a coalition that exists, it’s less in counting votes and more in a commitment to asking questions and challenging city staff and methods. “Because we’ve always done it this way” is not necessarily good public policy, they say. One good example, Williams says, was the discovery of kids having to pay membership fees to attend safe spaces, like community centers.
Starting in January, those fees will go away. There was some resistance from staff on the proposal because the city had to find a way to pay for it, $100,000 in total, the five say.
Williams, 32, has perhaps the most difficult job of the new guys replacing Jordan, who with 16 years on the council had the most institutional knowledge and policy know-how than anyone on the council.
Williams grew up in District 6, a graduate of North Crowley High School, raised by educator parents. Williams followed their path, eventually earning a doctorate in environmental science and science education from North Texas. He works today with Leadership ISD, which works to promote racial equity in public education.
With Nettles also on the council, it is certainly the first time in the city’s history that two North Crowley graduates sit on the dais.
His vision for District 6 is “dead set on creating safe and strong neighborhoods, the basic unit of a prosperous city.”
“For too long, we’ve left neighborhoods behind. Chris just talked about that. For us, we’ve been working on doing that three ways. Economic development, growing businesses and jobs, small businesses in particular. Ensuring our neighbors are safe through things like crosswalks, school zones, infrastructure like stop signs, streetlights in a growing district. Things like making sure that we have our next generation of homegrown heroes, the public servants, police, fire, EMT, and emergency communications. And then also ensuring that we have a government that’s responsive to the needs of our community.”
Williams is a sweetheart of man who says his motivation is service to others through acts of love.
His preference is a hug, not a handshake.
“The stories about us working well together don’t get told as well as ...
“The negative pieces,” Crain jumps in.
“Especially, the political climate that we see all across country, the things that get the ratings and readings are when we’re at odds,” Williams continues. “And, so people expect that for Fort Worth council as well. And I think, from redistricting to seeing us make historic investments during the budget cycle, nine of us all agreed on an affordable housing project. Those are just stories that really build faith and trust in government but that don’t always get told to the same magnitude or reshared to the same magnitude.
“There’s probably way more times where we worked flawlessly together and went home, didn’t care if we got praised or not, but we did it because of the reason why we’re all here.”
That gets a “hear, hear” out of Beck.
Williams has been identified by the others as the “baby brother” of the group.
Crain is the therapist; Nettles, “the preacher” because he is one having studied Christian ministries at Dallas Baptist University; and Beck, the “cruise director” — Julie from “The Love Boat,” she says — and “the lawyer.”
“I’m a lawyer, too,” Crain interjects.
And Firestone?
“I bring the whiskey,” he notes and notes quite accurately.
Firestone’s claim to fame — well, to journalists in these parts anyway — is the spiritual gift of TX Whiskey, brought to market by Firestone and partner Troy Robertson in 2012. The company relocated to the historic Glen Garden Country Club where they built their distillery and event venue on the storied 112 acres.
The partners sold Firestone & Robertson Distilling Co. to Paris-based Pernod Ricard in 2019.
The redevelopment of Glen Garden is the kind of advancement Firestone wants to bring to other parts of the city.
He is, and justifiably so, quite proud of what emerged from the soil of the former country club and golf course.
“It was very controversial because it was a big change,” Firestone remembers of the debate about the sale and redevelopment of Glen Garden in 2015. “And there was a lot of fear about what to do. But when we brought that deal to the city, effectively, we didn’t get a tax break. We didn’t get any abatements. We didn’t get any sort of those subsidies that come from the community. But what we talked about was the promise of business. What we thought we could build, if allowed to do it, and what it would ultimately mean to that community and city, as ambitious as we were. So that was 70 jobs that we were talking about, which we produced, and we built, I think. And I think, just the last thing I want to point out, is that next year after we built that, the ZIP code, I believe the district made the ZIP code with the greatest property value increases, came from that.”
A zoning case in Nettles’ district came to the floor recently, Firestone mentions.
“It got approved. It’s going to be a beautiful property that everyone’s going to be proud of. And, so I turned to Chris, and I said, ‘It’s exactly what we were talking about in 2015, the impact that this kind investment could have in the community where it’s creating jobs and opportunities.”
Says Nettles: “It’s right there on Berry, and the project I’m doing on Evans and Rosedale, same thing. You’re going to have units, five stories, and on the bottom, it’s going to have an opportunity for entrepreneurs or an opportunity for a grocery store or a restaurant.”
And the rent for living there will be made affordable through workforce housing, he says.
Nettles resists any suggestion that this development is gentrification. They aren’t tearing down and putting up $300,000 houses.
“That’s not what’s happening,” he says.
Crystal Wise
Chris Nettles
Activist to Gag Order
Nettles points out at least twice that he is 1 for 3 in city politics after finally unseating Gray after two unsuccessful attempts.
It is subsequently noted that 1 for 3 is Baseball Hall of Fame worthy.
He ran each time on a platform of police accountability and a police oversight board. His activism to that end gained a greater foothold with the tragedy of Atatiana Jefferson, shot dead by Fort Worth police officer Aaron Dean in 2019.
“No, no, stop right there,” Nettles says holding up his hands as if he were directing traffic. “I can’t talk about that,” he adds, faithful to a gag order he is under from District Court Judge David Hagerman. Defense attorneys for former Fort Worth police officer Aaron Dean have issued subpoenas to Nettles and Mayor Mattie Parker, a move legal analysts say is designed more to keep them from talking about the case publicly.
Before receiving the subpoena, the mayor released a statement urging the court to expedite scheduling of the trial, “a growing concern,” Parker said. Nettles, too, has been public in his frustration over the delays, penning a letter to Tarrant County District Attorney Sharen Wilson and Hagerman.
The trial has been delayed again, until May.
In October, the council voted to rename a main thoroughfare in east Fort Worth the Atatiana Jefferson Memorial Parkway.
“Yeah,” the rest say like a choir in perfect sync, “he can’t talk about that.”
Our memories adequately refreshed, that topic immediately came off the agenda for our meeting.
Nettles owns a child-care center in Fort Worth, Haven of Purpose Child Care Center, which provides care, education, nutritious meals, mentorship to children.
A police oversight board, another political hot potato coated in Carolina Reapers, remains a work in progress. One sticking point is whether the board would have the authority to investigate complaints against officers.
Kim Neal, the city’s police monitor who has been on the job since March 2020, has said the proposed board would be responsible for reviewing the police department’s policies and procedures and making recommendations on policy.
The board, like any other, would not have the authority to make policy. Only the council can do that.
“What I don’t want to get into for our city, as we talk about the adversarial relationship between [council, police, and city manager] and not getting information and not getting things done that we want to do,” Crain says.
“I think Michael might be jumping on that,” Beck says. “We need to hold people accountable.”
Says Nettles, a citizens review board proponent: “I think hiring Kim Neal was a step forward, and I will not deny that. But just like us, we are city council people. We were elected by the people. And we all come with different values, and we listen to our constituents. I think that the Citizens Oversight Review Board, whatever you want to call it, is going to give a different level of transparency.”
Nettles, by the way, despite what has become conventional wisdom, insists that he is not anti-police, and, in fact, is pro-police. His community can’t live without law enforcement.
Accountability measures are in every profession, Williams says, whether that be an attorney, teacher, or reporter.
Williams, however, stresses in the conversation that the job of police officer is a difficult one, often seeing and dealing with humanity at its worst with long hours and difficult schedules.
“And when we’re not giving you the mental health support that you need, you are going to make bad decisions,” Williams says. “You’re going to be tired. You are going to be stressed. You are going to be angry. And that is the compassion … look, I’m the first person to say, ‘Hold them accountable. Be better police.’ But you also have to provide the support and to provide that alleviation of that stress. It’s easy when you’re on the campaign to say, ‘We need police reform; I don’t like the way you behave every day. I think you could be better. I think we need to talk about your implicit bias.’ But also, ‘Hey, your job is hard. It’s hard. You see people at their worst, and you see death. You show up to a call and run toward the fire.’
Crain says: “I think that we all appreciate that and understand that with our police, our fire, our first responders of saying, ‘We understand you have a hard job. We also understand that people look at safety and security in their neighborhoods differently, and that we all want to be better.’ We all want that, whether it’s talking about implicit biases or it’s talking about training and education, that piece, that we all understand there’s all that piece you have to go through to make everybody feel safer in their own neighborhoods.
“Because again, I don’t think there’s anybody in this city that dials 911 that doesn’t want someone up to help them. But they also understand that I don’t look like someone else on the other side of the city.”
Crystal Wise
Michael Crain
The Levity Master
It’s easy to see that the therapist, err, Michael Crain, has been a leader in making the glue that has brought this rookie City Council class together.
At 49, he has led an existence of varied tasks. His LinkedIn page is full.
Texas A&M undergrad, Rutgers for graduate school for an MBA, and Texas Wesleyan for law.
He worked in the George W. Bush administration, eventually going to Beijing where he was chief of staff of the U.S. embassy. At one point, for a brief moment in time, he did public policy advising for Uber before going to real estate. Currently, he is a partner in the commercial real estate firm Northern Crain.
His mastery, however, is frivolity. His soul is ruled by levity. He was the kid who got the teacher’s stink eye for talking in class or pulling a prank.
“I think he brings levity in a way that we need when we’re having these real heavy conversations,” Beck says. “And Michael can say things in a way that makes everybody laugh and not in a silly way, but like in a ‘this is hard, and the tension is building,’ and Michael has a way to just decompress it, right, make everybody laugh.”
The District 3 councilmember says he has gained a perspective over his years of experiences, a realization that wherever and whatever moment you’re in, it will not last forever.
“So, we’re in this, we all got elected at the same time, at a great time for Fort Worth, but it won’t be here forever,” he says. “And if you get in your head about, ‘Oh, my God, am I doing all this right?’ and it’s so stressful, etc., that you can’t understand all the other pieces of the good things that we can do and realize I’m not sitting in this position forever. I might run again; I don’t know. I may get elected again; I don’t know.
“I think that we have to step back sometimes and remember the humanity piece. And so, if I’m doing nothing more than being self-deprecating about myself, or making fun of her [Beck], or whatever, that particular place we’re in. This is what I’ll say, we’re here for a period of time, right? That we, I think, have ended up in this part of time, in a very beautiful time for us, that I’ve lived long enough and lived different lives to realize it ends, right?”
He calls some of the issues the council encounters “mind-numbing” as if talking about third period accounting in high school.
Someone at the bar asks the group about all this talk of Fort Worth becoming a “world-class city.” We’re the 12th largest in the country, but it doesn’t feel like it sometimes, except for some of the political strife of police and a racial divide, which has poked its nose in the issue of redistricting, a touchy topic for some, essentially on racial grounds. Minority groups want better representation at City Hall.
“We are finding our legs as a big-kid city, right?” Becks says. “We’re no longer just little ol’ Fort Worth or Dallas-Fort Worth. No, we’re Fort Worth. We’re the 12th-largest city, and let me show you who we are. And we are world class, but we can be world class that doesn’t look like Dallas or doesn’t look like Houston or Austin. It looks like Fort Worth. And I think we get there by solid economic development, compassionate care as a city.”
There is some belief among some observers that the leadership change of the last municipal elections might be a key component of Fort Worth advancing its big-city credentials and culture.
Crystal Wise
Jared Williams
A Very Personal Issue
Asked if this affinity and affection for one another was love at first sight, Beck says no.
Beck: “No, it wasn’t actually. That’s what’s so funny, is that …
Nettles: “Almost, really.”
Beck: “... It’s like, that’s what’s so funny is that everyone thought, so going into it, everyone kind of has their …
Crain: “Preconceived notions.”
Beck: Yeah. And, so everyone thought ...
Nettles: “I was the radical person, coming in.”
Beck: “That’s right.”
Nettles, to Beck: “You were radical.”
Beck: “And everyone thought Michael and I wouldn’t get along, and people really wanted me and Mattie to fight. I think we’re about the same age, as two women and people really wanted. Yeah. And, so it’s funny, I was on the phone with her the other day, and we were working through something, and she said, ‘I really appreciate you.’ And I said that’s a very kind thing for her say, and I said, ‘You need to call everybody that told you that I wasn’t going to be easy to work with and tell them they’re wrong.
“She goes, ‘Elizabeth, the list is too long.’ And I said, ‘I know. Everyone wanted us to, they wanted that fight.’ And I mean, Michael, a friend of mine, a mutual friend said, ‘You all are going to be more like Will and Grace than anything else. You’re going to love each other but bicker back and forth. And, we do!”
Of a vote they disagreed about, Crain said he had keyed her car later.
For all the literalists out there, it was merely a Crain joke.
No one had vandalized the hybrid the other four make fun of her for driving.
“Leave my hybrid alone!” she orders to the gentlemen.
They tease also about her capacity to take over a conversation. That’s the stereotype of lawyers, after all. It seems clear that this might be what a closed session looks like. Nettles and Williams gather closer, rather than actually whispering, trying to get her attention as she went on about a topic.
Nettles jabbed: “Before we got here, Michael said you were going to do most of the talking.”
Beck: “You know what, Michael ...
Crain: “Let’s count the minutes later. Y’all count the minutes.”
Williams: “I’d love to see statistical breakdown.”
Crain: “Let Leonard have the floor now. Go ahead, Leonard.”
Rest assured, no statistical breakdown has been done on the 2 1/2-hour meeting.
Beck’s District 9 is one of the most diverse, if not most diverse, in the city, extending north of Loop 820, through the central city, south to the other side of Loop 820.
“District 9 is really unique,” she says. “I often say that when you represent District 9, you represent the loudest voices in the room and the softest voices in the room. And there’s a lot of tug and push and pull to represent Downtown versus Worth Heights. They’re very different. Very different set of needs, set of issues. How you go about communicating with people is different. It’s a challenge.”
Homelessness is a challenge in District 9, from the homeless to their impact on neighborhoods.
It was an issue that received a lot of time over the course of our meeting, and it sits very close to the heart of Beck. She says it is among her top priorities, specifically the city’s role in affordable housing. The mayor, too, has pushed the issue to the tops of agendas.
Nettles and Crain make note of a homeless woman subsisting between their districts.
Her name is Linda.
“She can’t get a house that she can afford, basically,” Nettles says. “Those are the kind of stories that are happening all across Fort Worth, and it’s not just folks who haven’t sacrificed or worked and served our city, our state, our country. These are everyday folks just like us who just can’t find a place to meet their [needs with] the money that they’re making.”
The issues of homelessness are complicated and intertwined with mental health and addiction, they all agree.
“I grew up with two parents that were drug addicts, and my dad was homeless for most of my life,” Beck says. “So, I speak from personal experience on this. It’s mental health, and it’s not having those services that people need to prevent them to seek the treatment that they need to keep them from falling into a depression that causes them not to be able to go to work, that causes them to lose their job, that causes them to not be able to pay rent, that causes them to end up at a shelter on Lancaster … if they’re lucky. It’s mental health services. It’s about compassion.”
And good paying jobs and economic development, Nettles says.
“And I think, for me, it’s a moral issue,” Williams says. “Giving somebody water and giving them a clean restroom is more, for me, taking care of those who have been down their luck.”
Simply one of the many matters that are part of a city council’s obligation to her city and constituents. Answers to these pressing questions, if they come at all, are only done with a council committed to working together to find solutions.
If the rookies are any indication, Fort Worth’s chief governing body has been put in capable hands.
“I love what I’m doing,” Nettles says. “This council has been great so far. I look forward to what is to come.”
