During the 1980s, I had the pleasure of serving as village manager of Ridgewood, New Jersey. There was an aggressive group of older men who fought and lost against the village building a new fire headquarters. One was an older gent named Owens (names changed to protect the innocent), who had been fighting the town for years, and another named Rogers, who was a more recent critic after losing a battle with the building department.

One morning I was meeting with the mayor on normal status issues when a commotion erupted outside my office (the door was open). My secretary came in saying that Owens and Rogers demanded a meeting with me right away or would "barge into my office," so I went to the outer reception area.

There I found a smiling Owens and a shouting Rogers saying such things as, "I'm a taxpayer, and I demand to meet with you right now!" I smiled back and said, "What do you clowns want?" Owens smiled more broadly, and I could hear the mayor laughing in my office. Rogers just yelled louder.

Ending the Ruckus

I then said, as a small crowd of employees gathered by the front door of my office to listen, “You are welcome to make an appointment to see me, but as I am presently meeting with the mayor, and you are disrupting my office, I want you to leave immediately.” Rogers refused to move and continued to shout, which caused near hysterical laughter from both the mayor and the assembled employees.

I then asked the secretary to call the police, who were one floor away. Within a minute, a police captain came up the stairs, I mentioned that the men were disruptive and refused to leave my office, and he gave a short speech about leaving before trouble ensued.

Owens almost ran down the stairs, but Rogers kept shouting and didn't move. The captain then took one step toward him, and he practically ran down the stairs shouting all the way.

I thanked the captain, winked at the employees, and then proceeded to finish the meeting with the mayor after she stopped laughing. I remember her saying, "You handled that beautifully and certainly earned your salary today."

Not five minutes later another commotion started, and I could tell from the shouting that Rogers and Owens were back. I excused myself from the mayor and walked out again, only to hear Rogers shout, "No one has ever had me escorted out of a public building!"

I then said, "Let's make it twice in a row," and picked up the secretary's phone to call the police department. Before I could even dial, Rogers was in full retreat down the stairs and his silent partner in crime Owens was now into a soft chuckle. This time they didn't come back.

We Meet Again

Fast forward some 15 years, and I am now borough administrator of the adjacent borough of Glen Rock. Ridgewood had its swimming lake, which was man-made in the early 1900s and called Graydon Pool, knocked out by a hurricane, and Glen Rock did the neighborly thing of offering Ridgewood residents swimming at its pool complex in the mornings during the month when repairs would take place.

All worked well until the second week, when the pool manager called me to mention that one older Ridgewood resident was not cooperating and refused to leave the pool. After getting a description, I asked the pool manager to call me the next time this guest swimmer appeared.

The next day I received such a call at about noon and drove to the pool. My suspicions were confirmed; the unruly Ridgewood resident was none other than Mr. Rogers, and this morning he was reluctantly leaving the pool while complaining to the pool manager with every step.

He was now well over the age of 80, using a walker, but capable of swimming laps and shouting at the same time. I planted my fairly large frame directly in front of his path, and waited for him to approach. When he arrived and looked up— I don't think he recognized me—I asked if he knew the rules and that Ridgewood residents had to leave at noon.

His response was: "This is a public pool, and I'll swim as long as I want!" I naturally smiled, and said "Aren't you Mr. Rogers of Ridgewood?" I could then see that he recognized me, and the blood drained from his face.

My response wasn't what I wanted to say, but as I recall it was something like, "Mr. Rogers, you will either play by the rules or not swim here ever again. We offered free swimming to our Ridgewood neighbors, and you have been our only problem. Do you understand?" He mumbled a reply. I moved out of the way and remember thinking that justice sometimes prevails.

Would my mother have liked my actions? Probably not, but she wouldn't have made a city manager. I just happened to be one of those creatures that would defend my community, elected officials, and staff if they were attacked by the nasty in whatever community I served.