PETER BUFFA -- Comments and Curiosities

“What’s unreasonable about noise?” So asks one Mr. Rodman, former NBA

star, West Newport resident, part owner of Josh Slocum’s.

The setting: the City Council chambers of the great city of Newport

Beach. The date: Tuesday last. The issue: a man turns 40. He wants to

throw a party. A birthday party, to be exact. A little food, a little

drink, some close friends -- say, a hundred or so. One helicopter, two

rock bands, a few onlookers -- all right, 200 onlookers -- and yes, some

noise. That’s it. End of story, period, stop.

I ask you, my friends, what is this country coming to? Is this what

Washington, Jefferson, Adams and Kosciuszko (he was just visiting) had in

mind when they established this miracle of democracy, this shining beacon

on the hill? I think not.

It is a sad, sad day when a man cannot be air-dropped into his own

backyard in a Bell jet chopper for an itty bitty party without being

harassed, hounded and treated with general disdain by the very city in

which he resides.

Oh yes, the city claims that Mr. Rodman’s proclivity for prodigious

parties has taken up an inordinate amount of the Newport Beach Police

Department’s time -- more than 50 visits in the last year -- time during

which they could be attending to other duties. But who is to say how much

is “too much?” We are in a very gray area here. Are 50 police calls to

one house in one year really excessive? Perhaps.

And so that nagging question remains: “What’s unreasonable about

noise?” Is it really such a big deal? I know I rather enjoy it when

unnamed, uninvited people are shrieking, cursing, slamming car doors and

playing something from Marilyn Manson very, very, very loud outside my

door. It relaxes me. I like it. Especially when it’s really, really late

at night.

It really depends on what your definition of “noise” is. During the

council meeting, Mr. Rodman presented a second argument, even more

compelling than the first.

“If kids are playing outside, is that too loud?” he asked.

Hmm. I think it would depend on how many helicopters, rock bands and

hundreds of other kids were outside, but I must admit, it is an

interesting comparison.

It wasn’t long, though, before the council meeting became more, umm,

animated. Mr. Rodman soon found himself in a decidedly sideways

orientation with the mayor of Newport Beach, Gary Adams. That was

unfortunate, because Mayor Adams is not a good mayor with whom to become

sideways.

Gary is a quiet, thoughtful man who treats everyone with respect, but

when challenged to a game of one-on-one with an unruly speaker, Gary will

win every time -- and I don’t care if your name is Dennis Rodman. Before

long, Mr. Rodman was out of time, out of theories on the nature of noise

and on his way out of the council chambers with an entourage of lawyers,

reporters and cameramen playing catch-up.

OK, it wasn’t your average council meeting, but what is this all

about? It is, quite simply, about marketing -- in this case, the

marketing of a celebrity. Now that his hoop years are behind him, Dennis

joins the ranks of the people who are famous for being famous. And in

this country, people who are famous for being famous are famously paid.

Let’s review. It’s another Tuesday night at City Hall, no more no

less. Dennis Rodman shows up with his attorneys, front and center, and

the place is crawling with press, including most of the Los Angeles

stations.

Is that a coincidence or what? Famous person, lawyers, reporters,

camera crews, mayor -- all converging at the same point in time and

space. Nobody could have called that one, no sir, not in a million . . .

wait, I forgot. A publicist could have called that one.

Why would you bring your lawyer, let alone lawyers, to a City Council

meeting? You wouldn’t. You’re not a famous person. But if you were, you’d

know that if you can goad someone like, I don’t know, a mayor maybe, into

having you handcuffed, dragged from the microphone and arrested --

hallelujah, it’s the mother lode! We’re talking about the lead on every

newscast, 10 and 11, and two, maybe three consecutive nights on

“Entertainment Tonight” and “Access Hollywood,” and that’s being

conservative. You must plan your work and work your plan.

Alas, Mayor Adams didn’t take the bait. The story did get some play

and made most of the LA outlets that night, though not the lead. In the

argot of the publicist, the story did not grow legs. Five cops dragging a

handcuffed Dennis out of City Hall kicking and screaming is “The

Letterman Show,” team coverage on ESPN and God only knows what Fox would

do with it.

But an angry Dennis stomping out and answering questions on the front

steps is the tag in tonight’s sports segments. It ain’t easy being

famous. Sometimes it’s signing books in a wedding gown, sometimes it’s a

City Council meeting. It’s a living.

Dennis’ final words did not bode well for future relations between the

athlete and the city.

“I’m not going to change my lifestyle,” he stated.

Then came the bombshell. He hinted that he might become a regular at

City Council meetings, and might even get involved in local politics.

Well OK then! Now this thing gets interesting. A third party that might

actually work -- the Party Party. Sid, are you listening to this? We need

you back here. I gotta go.

* PETER BUFFA is a former Costa Mesa mayor. His column runs Sundays.

He may be reached via e-mail at PtrB4@aol.com.