Eugene McKenzie is the former mayor of Rainelle, WV. Talk to almost anyone in that town and you will find that “Geno,” a name spoken with either deliberate informality or ironic affection, or both, is synonymous with “scandal” and “crook.”
The best word to describe Geno, I would argue, is “scoundrel.” Both “scandal” and “crook” are valid, and accurate in their way; yet scoundrel suggests a hint of genuine affection, the sense that one never condones a scoundrel’s actions, yet many find cause to be on casual terms with the scoundrel.
The man walks with a cane, and can be pleasant to talk to. I interviewed him on the night of his primary defeat for re-election, and he expressed very little bitterness (much was expected) and even showed a little deference to the democratic process (none was expected).
But Geno’s cane fits his hand like an old weapon, ready to impart a physical blow or to amplify crankiness, according to his mood. It was not his cane that struck an infamous blow, though his crankiness could certainly be blamed. Leading up to the aforementioned primary election, the three leading candidates for the “People’s Party” met at Town Hall, accompanied by a journalist well-known for her hostility toward Geno, to discuss the convention rules. As the candidates entered an office through a glass door, Geno “accidentally” shut the door on the reporter (I suspect the blow was not only insulting but embarrassing – I think the reporter’s face may have smashed up against the glass door). Instantly he hyper extended every cord and cable of tension in the room, leading the candidates to denounce his actions in the strongest terms. The journalist, for her part, never let anyone forget the way Geno “attacked” her that day.
Pete Adams is the current Recorder and Treasurer for the town of Rainelle. He stands as tall as an average man and is built solid and thick. His booming baritone is temperate under most circumstances, but massive and unyielding in confrontation. The financial and social ills of his town surround him, nipping at him and looking to devour him. Even so, his 65 or 70 years have likely seen greater threats, allowing him to go about his work undaunted. Adams’ slightly unbalanced eyes seem to represent the vulnerability of ethical behavior, his willingness to do the right thing even when it means exposing Rainelle’s shades of ugliness.
Over the last few decades of Rainelle’s history, Geno, Adams, and the current mayor, John Hill, have alternated terms in the mayor’s office. Hill, in fact, officially unseated Geno, but for all practical purposes, Adams runs the town’s administration.
For a while, against expectations, Geno disappeared. Curious citizens and journalists attended the first few meetings of the current administration, anxious for any flare-ups from the outgoing administration. When none appeared, the crowds began to stay at home, until I was the sole journalist and only 2-3 citizens attended each meeting. One of those was Mayor Hill’s wife.
About a year after his defeat, Geno’s name surfaced again at town council meetings. While doing excavation work for a client, he completely revamped a town alleyway, which of course he had no right to do. Geno did not even have a permit for the work he was allowed to do until after he had begun, claiming that he did not know a permit was necessary. Adams found this excuse hard to swallow, since Geno had been mayor more than once. Council decided that Adams should confront Geno and have him correct the situation.
Another instance of the scoundrel Geno stirring up trouble after the fact of his mayorship requires a little bit of context. In a given municipality, at least in this area, there is a general fund, a water fund, and a sewer fund, the three major services provided by a small town. Each fund, then, requires its own account, which ought to be accessed only for the purposes of that service. In other words, the town provides citizens with clean drinking water; citizens pay the water company for this service on a monthly basis. All of the money collected from the citizens goes to the water company fund, and thereafter is used to pay water company employees, maintain and repair water lines, and so on. Thus, the sewage treatment plant cannot use water company funds for their projects – they depend on citizens’ sewer bills to cover their costs.
Geno, it turns out, took $25,000 from the water company and used it to purchase a building for the town’s administration, an expense that should have come out of the general fund. Not only did he essentially steal money from the water company, but he went a step further: He allowed the water company to rent one room from the newly purchased building, at a monthly rate of $450. To put it another way – Not only did he steal his brother’s bike, but he charged his brother $10/ride to borrow it.
Despite Rainelle’s financial troubles, Adams told council that he was embarrassed to ask the water company to keep paying rent on a building they bought, and thought the town ought to repay the money over time.
As Geno’s public sins mounted, the time came for the old scoundrel to appear before the new administration and make his case. Unusually, a police officer was in attendance for this meeting.
Rising out of his seat, Geno set his cane against his chair and made for council’s table.
“I appreciate being put on the agenda,” Geno said modestly. With 7 or 8 citizens behind him, you could almost hear people sniffing the air for a whiff of sarcasm. As Geno presented his three concerns, however, it became ever clearer that there was no sarcasm in his voice whatsoever.
Instead, the man known for expediency and his underhanded iron grip on Rainelle during his terms of office appeared sincere and calm. Adams addressed his first two concerns authoritatively, adding that a fine would be assessed for every day that passed before Geno returned the revamped alleyway to its original condition. Geno seemed to be in the wrong, and was nevertheless cooperative with the council’s wishes. In many ways it felt like the quiet before the storm, or better, the eye of the hurricane. Amid his propensity for verbal thrashing, for out and out destruction of civility, was an almost eerie calm.
Third and finally, Geno raised the matter of mowing the grass at one of his properties. As he tells it, the town notified him on a Thursday that the grass needed to be cut immediately. Geno hired a man on Friday, who cut his lawn the same day; he nevertheless received a fine on Saturday.
“I’m asking you, the council, if you think it’s fair that I was fined $620 when I had my grass cut the next day.” Pausing a moment, Geno continued, “I’ve been having health problems that wouldn’t allow me to get to it sooner.”
A peculiar thought settled in – the old scoundrel’s body is failing. Illness finally taught Geno some manners and, facing his mortality, he also was seeking to be peaceable with his enemies.
Adams explained that the ordinance was on the books, and that the citation essentially gives notice of the fine.
“Well, I just want you to know, I want everyone to know that I paid that $620. I’m not here to complain, just to talk about the facts. I paid that fine,” Geno said, gathering his notes as he turned away.
“For the record, Geno,” Adams interjected, “You didn’t pay that fine.”
“Yes I did,” Geno said firmly.
“You posted bond for the citation,” Adams explained. “That’s not the same thing as paying the fine.”
It seemed as though Adams’ words didn’t fully register, as Geno said again, “I paid the fine,” before walking back to his seat for his cane, then out of the town hall.
Ah, what a scoundrel - just when he appears to be a sympathetic character, Geno tries to put another deception past the powers that be. Or else, the old scoundrel really is fading.