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The Fixer
Justin Bibb’s election signals a new era in Cleveland, but it remains unclear how his progressive rhetoric will translate into governing.
By Marcia Brown
The Fixer
IIN JANUARY, JUST WEEKS AFTER JUSTIN Bibb was sworn in as Cleveland’s 54th mayor, a massive snowstorm rolled in, a typical occurrence in this city on the shores of Lake Erie. The municipal response was less than robust. Unplowed streets and sidewalks, especially in poor neighborhoods, left residents unable to get to jobs and medical appointments. Even the city’s public transit briefly shut down. In a Midwestern city, it was a mayor’s clichéd trial by fire. The alt-weekly Cleveland Scene lampooned Bibb for being in Washington during the storm for a national mayor’s conference. Bibb blamed the poor response on a woefully underprepared snow removal system inherited from his predecessor Frank
Jackson, who served as mayor for 16 years, the longest tenure in Cleveland history. But to residents, it was just another example of
PHILIP BURKE the mediocrity they have come to expect from city government. A few weeks later, another snowstorm hit; this is Cleveland, after all. This time, the mayor was ready. When residents called to complain about unplowed streets, the city dispatched a snowplow. And there was a technological addition; Bibb launched a new Snowplow Tracker to inform residents which streets were passable and where plows were headed, updated hourly to track the progress in every block of the city.
“I think it’s important for voters to recognize that change takes time. Structural change takes even more time,” said Bibb in an interview. “But I think the kind of leader that I want to be is, own the problem, but come back with a solution and be transparent about what we’re doing to be better.”
Bibb ran for mayor on a promise of change. And while he has been bold on several fronts—including endorsing a new oversight commission for the city police department, despite being pilloried as anti-cop during the campaign—sometimes change just means getting the streets plowed. He ran on his competency as an executive willing to work until he finds what works.
Ask ten people about Bibb’s governing philosophy and you’ll get 12 different answers. But in a city that has settled for less for so long, basic competence is progressive. Treating poor people with dignity, governing humanely and with accountability, is progressive. Weaving that ethos into the fabric of city governing is meaningful. Can Bibb pull it off?
CLEVELAND IS THE POOREST BIG CITY IN America and is in desperate need of basic services, both for working-class families and for the poor. The shocking loss of the tax base can be seen in the census figures: In 1950, the city was home to over 900,000 residents, but the population declined to just 372,624 in 2020. The median annual household income as of 2019 was just $32,053 per year, and nearly one-third of Cleveland’s residents live in poverty.
Residents struggle to secure well-paying jobs, pay rising utility bills, and find affordable housing and even healthy food. These
problems push down hardest on the city’s plurality-Black population, which closely corresponds with the city’s poor. Yvonka Hall, executive director of Northeast Ohio Black Health Coalition, called the status quo a “food apartheid” for Cleveland residents. COVID vaccination rates in northeast Ohio range from 30 percent in Cleveland’s poorest neighborhoods to near 90 percent in the city’s wealthier suburbs, a disparity illustrative of national trends.
Chris Martin, an advocate with Clevelanders for Public Transit (CPT), emphasized that 25 percent of Clevelanders don’t have a car. “There’s a lack of urgency at RTA (Cleveland’s Regional Transit Authority), and most folks don’t realize that in the last 15 years we’ve lost 40 percent of services and fares have doubled, so we pay more for less,” he explained.
Public officials, including in the 16 years under Frank Jackson, did little that would reverse this suffering, or even give residents the faintest hope of a better future. “We’re coming from a previous administration where the mayor was in a bunker to avoid the bombs or complaints that would come for a lot of the bad things that happened under his watch,” said Kareem Henton, Cleveland Black Lives Matter co-founder. “There was this somber, defeated attitude where there were complaints, but they were just that, just complaining.” Jackson’s informal motto was “It is what it is.”
The circumstances of Bibb’s landslide 63-37 general-election victory over Kevin Kelley, then Cleveland City Council president, embodies this. Fewer than 60,000 people voted in that election, about 23 percent of the electorate, the lowest total in the last 50 years. Just 16 percent of eligible voters selected Bibb and Kelley from the earlier crowded primary. But even that number was an improvement from the 13 percent in the 2017 primary when Jackson was running for his fourth term.
Such low turnout, activists say, illustrates the doubt Clevelanders have that their government represents them or will even listen to them. Only recently, for example, did residents win the opportunity for public comment during city council meetings. And popular ballot measures to raise the city’s minimum wage to $15 an hour, or a grassroots effort to bar taxpayer funds from being used in expensive renovations at Quicken Loans Arena, were blocked by the city council. “These decisions we made as a city don’t give people confidence that your vote actually matters,” Bibb said.
Bibb’s very biography represents a break with the city’s political sluggishness. He’s only the fourth Black mayor in Cleveland’s history, and at 34, he’s the second-youngest. In contrast, his predecessor is 75. (The youngest was “Boy Mayor” Dennis Kucinich, who won in 1977 at 31 and, interestingly enough, was one of the opponents Bibb defeated in last year’s primary.) With his black-rimmed glasses and close-cropped haircut, you could easily mistake Bibb for a college senior. He had no prior experience with running for office, though he did intern in 2007 in the office of a senator named Barack Obama. And his interest in politics was apparent from a young age; in his high school yearbook, Bibb was known as “The Senator.”
This new energy and forward motion were actually part of the critique against Bibb. He was criticized in the campaign for never holding a job for longer than two years. His experience in the corporate world as a KeyBank executive also raised questions for progressives.
Indeed, Bibb never called himself a progressive during the campaign; instead, he ran, like the senator in whose office he interned, on change. His endorsement list, attracted by the hope of shaking up Cleveland, looked like the “big tent” politics some Democrats champion. He won the support of establishment names like former Cleveland mayors Michael White and Jane Campbell, along with Cleveland’s Black churches and local unions; he also garnered endorsements from progressive groups like Our Revolution Ohio and from Bernie Sanders surrogate Nina Turner.
Bibb recognizes the balancing act: “[I’m] the guy who worked at a bank who got endorsed by Our Revolution,” he said. In February, Bibb endorsed the re-election of Shontel Brown, the county’s first-term incumbent congresswoman, who defeated Turner in a 2021 special election and faces her again in a 2022 primary rematch. In response to criticism, Bibb tweeted, “Purity politics will not get the Democratic Party anywhere. Building a bigger tent is in the best interest of realizing equity and justice for the communities we serve.” He added a hashtag: #ANewWay.
“What I learned running for mayor in the poorest city in America is that voters, number one, want their elected officials to listen,” Bibb said. “Voters want their elected officials to find ways to get stuff done. And voters want, if you make a mistake, admit the mistake and just keep getting better every day. And when we silo our thinking to say, I’m either pro-police or defund the police, I’m a progressive, or I’m an establishment Democrat. That doesn’t serve us at all as a party. And as a party, we have a branding problem right now in this country where we don’t have a consistent vision on what we’re doing to deliver for the American people.”
It’s true that just being visible to the community exemplifies progress in Cleveland. “You have someone who has such a high social media presence, is so accessible, is always out being seen,” said Henton, the BLM co-founder. “That’s something folks aren’t used to, so there’s a sense that things are different now.”
But to make a real difference in Cleveland, Bibb will have to do more than be seen. He will have to make strong choices and deliver concrete results.
Cleveland is the poorest big city in America, with onethird of its citizens living in poverty.
CLEVELAND CITY HALL WAS COMPLETED IN 1916, when the city was nearly twice as big and significantly wealthier. Its exterior projects the wealth and grandeur of an earlier era. Near the security check, two signs demonstrate the challenges of extricating city government from a 16-year predecessor: One welcome sign bore Mayor Bibb’s name, the other Mayor Jackson’s.
The mayor’s suite is grand and ornate, featuring high-ceilinged rooms for staff and cabinet meetings. The portraits of former mayors gaze down at their successors, with Jackson’s portrait twice the size of those of his predecessors.
When I met with Bibb, he wore a tie and polka-dot socks, though he lacked his usual suit jacket. As we spoke, MSNBC played on mute behind him. Prominently displayed in the office is his late father’s yellow Cleveland firefighter’s helmet.
“You think about my background, poor Black kid growing up in the southeast side of Cleveland,” he said. “I come from a blue-col-
Bibb, 34, is the second-youngest mayor in Cleveland’s history. In his high school yearbook, he was known as “The Senator.”
lar family. My dad was a cop and a fireman. My mom’s a social worker. You know, both my grandparents were in unions. I was able to go to good schools, get a good education.”
Sometimes Bibb’s inexperience comes through. He loves aphorisms, perhaps revealing a still-evolving governing philosophy. He seems unsure what language best embodies his vision, instead substituting others’ sage reflections. On his administration: “As my grandmother would say, the proof is in the pudding.” On the pandemic: “As Rahm Emanuel once said, never waste a good crisis.” On navigating big-tent politics: “I truly believe that well done is better than well said.” On building trust with the city council: “Change moves at the speed of trust.”
But running a community-oriented campaign—his relentless door-knocking wore out shoes and left the already-skinny mayor ten pounds lighter when he entered office— gave Bibb insight, through intimate conversations with voters, into what new ideas he should test out.
For example, Bibb was the only candidate in the primary to unflinchingly support Issue 24, an amendment to the city’s charter that would give a citizen committee disciplinary and investigative power over Cleveland police officers. Since 2014, the city has been under a federal consent decree in response to police brutality and a lack of accountability. But voters thought the decree was ineffective and decided to take matters into their own hands.
Cleveland was the home of Tamir Rice, a 12-year-old boy playing in a city park with a toy gun who was gunned down by police officers. The city police also hold the distinction of being the force that led a 23-mile, 60-officer uncontrolled high-speed police chase that ended when officers fired 137 bullets into a car, killing Timothy Russell and Malissa Williams, in 2012.
Kelley, a longtime city council member embraced by the city’s business interests, ran hard against Issue 24, saying that it would make Cleveland neighborhoods less safe. During the campaign, a super PAC supporting Kelley was accused of circulating a racist attack mailer, which darkened Bibb’s skin and which some said was made to look like a mug shot.
“The Kelley campaign did the old-time religion of ‘Let’s scare the white folks’ and stuff like that and it didn’t work,” said Randy Cunningham, founding member of the Cuyahoga County Progressive Caucus, which also endorsed Bibb.
Issue 24 passed resoundingly, 59-41. Bibb’s administration has already allocated $1 million to the commission. The money goes through the law department, part of a $3 million increase in funding for the police as well as to community programs. But a substantial chunk of that money is going toward reform and accountability.
The question is whether the citizen committee will serve as window dressing or have real power to rein in abusive practices. The commission will give citizens the ability to investigate and discipline police, barring police from holding their own (un)accountable.
Also on the agenda is a commitment to public health. Bibb has made a point of pushing to raise Cleveland’s vaccination rates. When the city hosted NBA All-Star weekend in February, he stationed a pop-up vaccination clinic downtown offering mer-
Bibb was the only mayoral candidate to support Issue 24, which will create a citizen committee with disciplinary and investigative power over Cleveland police officers.
chandise giveaways and “special appearances.” Bibb’s first city budget, which advanced in March, funds two mobile health clinics. Tackling the city’s overlapping publichealth crises while fighting flare-ups from the pandemic demands a grassroots effort, Bibb said. It’s about “really bringing government to the people.”
Yvonka Hall says this modus operandi is key to advancing the mayor’s priorities. Her organization has hosted several neighborhood pop-up vaccination clinics. “They see my Black face outside saying hey and then they see workers on the inside that look like them and that makes people less apprehensive,” she said. The pop-ups offer boxed lunches in the middle of the month when people who are receiving public assistance experience dwindling resources.
“The mayor has probably the most recognizable face in the city right now and he has an opportunity to use his bully pulpit to talk to people about vaccination,” Hall said.
The ongoing health crisis of lead poisoning in Cleveland also demands a new approach to health care in the city, activists say. Although testing for lead poisoning dropped dramatically throughout the pandemic, testing has been falling since 2016, said Hall. Bibb needs to reverse this trend, she said, and should hire a lead czar to coordinate the city’s response.
Advocates and journalists have long pointed to the irony of some of the nation’s best hospitals sitting just steps from some of Cleveland’s sickest wards. “What is the American dream if an American can’t have it?” asked Aisia Jones, a Cleveland organizer and erstwhile city council candidate. “Our mayor has the opportunity to fulfill parts of the dreams of Americans as it pertains to decriminalizing poverty, decriminalizing homelessness, having better support for our small businesses and … increasing testing [for lead].” measuring Bibb’s success, activists gave a laundry list of Cleveland’s needs. The biggest theme, however, was a desire for more involvement in city government. LaTonya Goldsby, Cleveland Black Lives Matter cofounder, said she is part of a coalition pushing for a participatory budget, with input from the community. Bibb already declined BLM’s demand for a new public-safety director, a decision his administration attributed to a need for department continuity. But Goldsby was part of the mayoral transition and made public-safety recommendations she thinks the administration is heeding.
Not only did Bibb attempt to involve local leaders and experts in the transition, but his administration has demonstrated a responsiveness inside the halls of power— a profound departure from the previous administration. “Even here at City Hall, I think some people are surprised when the mayor asks their input,” said Ryan Puente, Bibb’s campaign manager and now chief
government affairs officer. “I just think in the previous administration, it wasn’t happening in the last couple of years.”
Bibb said that he publishes his calendar weekly, attends community events, and is working to revamp the city’s 311 call center, an essential upgrade in a city where, without functional avenues for city services, residents call their councilmembers to get trash picked up. But it’s still early.
“We needed some time to just get settled,” Bibb said, “to build the foundation so we can deliver on the mandate of improving basic city services while at the same time being as accessible as possible.”
Like mayors across the country coming out of the pandemic, Bibb is staring down opportunity and uncertainty. The shift to remote work for many corporate offices has put a serious strain on downtown business districts, not only hurting local shops and restaurants, but reducing tax revenue from downtown workers who are instead staying at home in Cleveland’s suburbs. The trend may also significantly shrink Cleveland’s payroll tax revenue this year by millions of dollars, which the city can ill afford. Lack of transit ridership into downtown has sapped ticket revenue and made it difficult to justify expansion.
At the same time, cities see opportunity from the American Rescue Plan, which earmarked billions of dollars for state and municipal governments. Similarly, the bipartisan infrastructure bill could be positive for cities like Cleveland, with funding earmarked for mass transit and the removal of lead water pipes.
Bibb has other policy ambitions, around affordable housing and the decriminalization of both marijuana use and transit fare evasion. He wants to create the infrastructure for an office of economic recovery, and has committed to raising $5 billion in capital over the next decade to improve Cleveland’s neglected East Side.
But beyond the long-term policy goals, Bibb’s promises signal an intention to tackle the mundane work of basic city services with gusto. In our conversation, he returned to the issue of snowplowing. “At the end of the day,” he told me, “if that doesn’t impact the daily lived experience, then I’m not doing my job. That will always be my greatest test. And doing it as fast as I possibly can. And managing the expectations of people around that process.”
Even basic services floundered under Jackson. Trash collection was spotty and inconsistent. Potholes remained unfilled and plow service was unreliable. Not to mention a recycling contract snafu, where Jackson administration officials were sending material in the city’s blue recycling bins to the landfill—all carried in recycling trucks maintaining the “illusion of a legitimate curbside program,” as Cleveland Scene put it.
In Bibb’s first budget negotiations, councilmembers voiced strong opposition to certain items but ultimately approved the budget, generally agreeing that Bibb should get the benefit of the doubt. One of the biggest points of contention was the salaries of new City Hall staff, some approaching $200,000. Bibb defended the salaries, arguing that he needs to pay talent enough to lure them away from successful careers and the “perks” of the private sector.
The city has sometimes been criticized for the size of its city council, and some say its excessive numbers create dysfunction. In 2018, Clevelanders put a measure on the ballot to shrink the size of the council from 17 to 9, arguing that it was a “rubber stamp” for Jackson’s administration, unresponsive to constituents, and—at salaries of $80,000— too expensive. The measure failed.
Though establishment councilmembers remain, Rebecca Maurer, a local organizer and public-interest lawyer, joined progressive Stephanie Howse on the council in January. But just one incumbent councilmember endorsed Bibb for mayor. Nevertheless, he said he has an open-door policy and has met with each member individually, and the council’s approval of his budget seems to indicate cautious support.
FOR MANY PROGRESSIVES AND GRASSROOTS activists, Bibb was their candidate, even though he eschewed the progressive label. One activist compared him to President Biden, co-opting progressive ideas while distancing himself from the moniker. But now that he has won, they face an age-old challenge between activists and policymakers: how to hold Bibb accountable while maintaining a productive relationship with him.
Jones said she supported and voted for Bibb. “I’m going to hold his feet to the fire,” she said. She called out a lack of grassroots workers in the administration. “I want to make sure that those of us that have been working in the community have been heard and acknowledged.”
Some worry that a mayor who characterizes himself as a businessman may become captive to Cleveland’s business interests, or that the city’s nonprofit-industrial complex may overtake his good intentions. “As a grassroots organization, we have no permanent allies or friends, only a permanent alliance with the community,” BLM’s Henton explained. “We can advocate for you, but if you start going contrary to what’s in the best interests in the community, we’re going to come at you full force.”
Bibb has embraced a can-do attitude for local government and a willingness to work with anyone. “As a mayor, no one cares about progressive or Democrat or Republican,” Bibb said. “They want the snow plowed. They want the trash picked up.” But standing for certain principles still matters. Without a guiding conviction, it might be easier for a leader to lose his path.
To Milo Korman, a member of Cleveland Democratic Socialists of America, it’s wrong to “map progressivism” onto Bibb’s candidacy or administration. “It’s more about the old-guard machine politics versus the new version of machine politics,” he said. The Jackson era separated citizens from the levers of power. The new machine signals a new opportunity, a new chance to be heard. And maybe for utility bills to decrease, and the bus to arrive frequently, and for an end to the scourge of child lead poisoning.
Whether Bibb is a progressive remains unknown, but what he is offering to Clevelanders amounts to a radical change in how their government treats them and engages with them. In Cleveland, in 2022, that may just be progress. n Marcia Brown is a former Prospect writing fellow who is now a correspondent for The Capitol Forum, a subscription-based corporate investigation outlet. She has also written for The Intercept, The New Republic, and The Progressive.
