Free A Prayer for the City by Buzz Bissinger Page A

in without remorse. “He still stands around believing in the power of good intentions, which are fine if you’re running a soup kitchen, but not if you’re running a hard-luck city teeming with a mutant strain of political hacks,” wrote Steve Lopez, a columnist for the
Inquirer
and the city’s leading voice. By the time of Rendell’s inauguration ceremony, Goode was like a ghost, the wisp of a man who had once stood in this very same building and had said in that confident and clear voice:
“Philadelphia is on the move again.”
    For much of the inauguration ceremony, his eyes were dull and his lips tightly pursed, whatever emotion he had started with as mayor seemingly drained by the end of his administration, when everyone, even those who had worked side by side with him, seemed determined to betray and humiliate him with endless anecdotes about his isolation and incompetence. Shortly before the ceremony, Goode had seen Cohen backstage. It seemed like the perfect time for something private and maybe even inspirational, the passing of the torch from the outgoing administration to the incoming one.
    “Hi, David.”
    “Hi, Mayor.”
    “Good luck.”
    That was it.
    The only change in Goode’s expression during the ceremony came during a prayer, when he closed his eyes so hard it almost seemed to hurt. That was Goode’s final act as mayor. The job, mercifully perhaps, wasn’t his anymore. Someone else could stand before the gathered crowd, promising miracles and betterment and the best of intentions. Someone else could imbue himself with the notion that the impossible, the salvation of a dying and obsolete city, was still possible.
IV
    When the moment was finally his, Edward G. Rendell, then forty-eight, shuffled to the edge of the stage of the Academy of Music. With both hands firmly on the podium, he made the speech that he had waited a lifetime to make.
    Make no mistake, our situation is worse than we thought it could ever be. Projected deficits in the years ahead number in the hundreds of millions of dollars. And the shame of it is that those deficits do not even begin to tell us the costs of their consequences. These costs—the costs of unsafe streets, of dirty neighborhoods, of struggling schools, of shut-down health clinics and recreation centers—these costs are simply incalculable.
    We have put off difficult choices for far too long. We have been too willing to accept the old way of doing things. In the face of long-term challenges, we have opted for short-term fixes. And we have shown virtually no courage or backbone in standing up to pressure against outside interests.
    Change must surely come, but the good news is that if it does come, this city cannot only survive; it can come alive again with a thriving economy, strong neighborhoods, and a dynamic downtown that can serve as a magnet to conventioneers, tourists, and suburbanites alike.
    To make this change a reality, I want to issue a few challenges:
    To everyone involved in government, to no longer accept the old way of doing things, but to challenge them, change them, and get results.
    To the seventeen city council members on this stage with me today, to put aside politics, partisanship, and personal gain to forge a working relationship with me second to none in this city’s long history.
    To our municipal unions and their four fine leaders, to join with us and help this city survive and flourish as other unions have joined together with their employers to keep those businesses afloat.
    To the people of Philadelphia, to be willing to accept short-run sacrifices and pain that will allow us to get through the near future and lead to tremendous long-run gain for all of us.
    And lastly, a challenge to myself, to stand tall, to stay the course, and make the difficult choices unflinchingly, regardless of what the pressure to do otherwise might be and regardless of the political risks involved.
    I cannot and will not falter.
    We cannot and will not