Carl Hiaasen - Kick Ass - Selected Columns of Carl Hiaasen

Ferre says he did it when the family concrete business, Maule Industries, went belly up in the late 19705. At the time, the company's liabilities were reported at $23 million. Knowing creditors would be looking for him, Ferre basically gave all assets to his wife—an old dodger's trick, and a legal one.

It wouldn't even be noteworthy if Ferre was some private schlump who'd botched up a few business deals. He's more than that. He's running for a Metro Commission seat that will put him within lunging distance of a combined $3 billion budget.

It's perfectly proper for voters to demand details of a candidate's finances, no matter how muddled. A man who can't balance his own checkbook, and doesn't pay his debts, is a poor choice for handling taxpayer dollars. Ferre's wife, in fact, would seem a more sensible selection.

The ex-mayor solemnly claims to have no assets. He describes himself as an international businessman, but insists he's earned no money—not a dime—since Maule dissolved about 15 years ago. So what's he been up to?

He travels regularly to Puerto Rico and Latin America, where he supposedly assembles complicated mega-deals for other companies. Are we to believe he does it just for the sport? "I put deals together," Ferre explained to a reporter, "and will be paid in the future." What a curious arrangement.

In the meantime, he enjoys a "very nice lifestyle" supported by a "very substantial income" from his wife's family holdings. This, while continuing to stiff the good citizens of Florida for $62,000.

If Mercedes Ferre doesn't wish to cover the balance of her husband's court-ordered fine, that's her business. But it's hard to understand why Ferre himself has made no serious effort to make good on the debt. He's a bright, able-bodied, well-spoken fellow. Why doesn't he get a paying job?

By now, he could have settled the entire matter for a measly six grand a year. Bagboys at Publix do better than that. Of course, even part-time work might interfere with the "very nice lifestyle" to which the ex-mayor is accustomed.

Under fire in the District 7 Metro race, Ferre vows to obey the law and pay off the outstanding 62 grand … gradually. The state attorney has made no move to collect.

Too bad it's not a Visa bill. At 18 percent annually, Ferre's 12-year slide would have compounded to a robust $473,686. And those people, like some voters, never ever forget.

The best way for voters to endure the dismal Miami mayoral race is to think of it not merely as another parade of fools, but as a vaudeville audition.

With the election more than two months away, the campaign has already degenerated into a promising orgy of mudslinging and petty sabotage. The three major candidates—Miami Commissioner Miriam Alonso, former Metro Mayor Steve Clark and T. Willard Fair, head of the Urban League—all allege slimeball behavior by their opponents.

The question for Miami voters isn't whether the candidates engage in dirty tricks. It's a given that most of them do. The issue is the quality of these new dirty tricks. Are they personal enough, vicious enough, deceptive enough and craven enough to uphold the city's sewer-rat tradition of scummy politics?

So far, so bad.

Now appearing on many cars are fluorescent bumper stickers that proclaim: "Miriam Alonso is a Communist." Well, Alonso is not a Communist, and every self-respecting Communist ought to be offended at the suggestion. The party's got enough headaches in Miami without having the shrill and conniving Alonso as a member.

On the question of temperament, tabloid newspapers now circulating in Little Havana enigmatically describe the commissioner as "erratic and crazy." Is this propaganda intended to be anti-Alonso, or pro-Alonso? In some precincts, being erratic and crazy would make you the odds-on favorite.

Alonso says the nasty bumper stickers and newspapers can be traced to Steve Clark and his main supporter on the Miami commission, Victor deYurre. The reason that Clark needs a pal on the commission is (in his own words): "I don't know exactly what's going on down at City Hall because I haven't been there for 20 years."

In fact, Clark has made a career of claiming not to know what's going on, and not being there when it was. Still, he is justifiably irked by insinuations from the Alonso camp that, at 69, he's too old to be a forceful mayor. To be fair, Clark never claimed to be a forceful mayor. Hundreds of weekday golfing partners can attest to his devotion to leisure.

Raising questions about Clark's age and alertness is a risky proposition for Alonso. After all, it was she who completely forgot where she lived—and in fact, gave the wrong address—when running for office a few years ago. Perhaps both she and Clark would consent to mutual CAT scans to allay constituent concerns about possible impairment.

A new face in the political cross fire is T. Willard Fair, although he's not unacquainted with controversy. Writing in the Miami Times, Fair (who is black) has attacked other black leaders by naming them "nigger of the year." No fine trophy or plaque accompanies this dubious award.

Fair's opponents have been reminding black voters of his bluntness and have suggested that such coarse tendencies are potentially dangerous in a city where racial tensions lie close to the surface. Fair is also being slammed for failing to support Dade's black tourism boycott. To note that Clark and Alonso didn't support the boycott either would only spoil a perfectly bad dirty trick.

For all his bombast, Fair is easily the smartest of the three mayoral candidates, which automatically makes him the long shot. Alonso, the loudest of the trio, is presumed the front-runner. Clark, heavily bankrolled by developers, is running a strong and defiantly lackluster second. While the race is off to a truly disgraceful start, it will require all the candidates' energy to stay gutter-bound between now and Nov. 2.1 have every confidence they'll sink to the occasion.

On Tuesday, thousands of South Floridians can drop to their knees and quietly give thanks that they don't live in the city of Miami.

Nov. 2 is Election Day, and it appears likely that Steve Clark and Miriam Alonso will be in a runoff for mayor. The campaign, as reprehensible as predicted, leaves nauseated voters to ponder the question: Which of these characters will embarrass us the least? Four categories should be considered:

1. General nutty behavior.

Say what you will about Steve Clark, he's not a volatile guy. It takes energy to be volatile.

Miriam Alonso, on the other hand, is frequently shrill, abrasive and emotional. Her 911 call after a routine burglary took the form of wild raving against the police. The potential for future wacko antics seems boundless.

2. Saying dumb things.

This one's a toss-up. Both candidates say dumb things all the time. For instance, Clark still insists that corruption and shoddy construction had nothing to do with the massive damage by Hurricane Andrew.

Meanwhile, Alonso babbles about secret Anglo conspiracies to purge Cuban Americans from office, exhorting supporters: "Whip in hand, we have to expel those who come to destroy our people!"

The image of Miriam Alonso going after Steve Clark with a whip … well, it's enough to give S-and-M a bad name.

3. Doing dumb things.

Again, Clark has the advantage here. In order to do something dumb, one must do something. Clark seldom does.

As Metro mayor, he rarely cast a vote without consulting the zoning lawyers, lobbyists and developers who put him in office. Freed from the burden of independent thinking, Clark was able to hurl himself into the task of signing proclamations and snipping ribbons—low-risk assignments that were virtually impossible to screw up.