So I’m sitting at the county commission meeting Monday before last, fighting back yawns and thinking about brewing up a pot of caffeine. My interest level was about on par with that of watching grass grow. I’ve never been a meeting man since I’ve been crime and courts guy down in Warren County for the better part of three decades. I’m more into action.
However, even as I resisted the sandman there was a change in the atmosphere of the room. My ears perked up. They were talking about money, specifically raises for county employees who had gone without increases for some time.
In an instant, the room went from a yawn-fest to where you could cut the tension with a knife. What had been a silent room was filled with murmuring behind me as I sat on the front row behind the commissioners. I could even hear smatterings of laughter behind me, but it wasn’t that funny laughter. It was that laughter you hear when people are getting mad and about to break red. Then, after the commission had voted down proposals for pay increases, I hear a guy from behind me say, loud enough where I’m sure the commissioners could hear him, “I’m about to get thrown out of this meeting." I didn’t turn around even though my mind was racing.
“I’m about to be in the middle of a pier-six brawl, a donnybrook and slobber knocker right here in the bowels of the DeKalb County Courthouse – at my first meeting no less,” I thought to myself. “Wow. I love this town.”
Now, before you get down on me for my affinity for controversy and potential public violence, let me first point out that on Saturday nights I have a hobby that lends itself to controversy and chaos. I’m General Manager of Tennessee All-Pro Wrestling over in Warren County. That’s right, we’re the ones who throw each other through tables, into thumb tacks and beat one another senseless in the head with steel chairs all in the name of good clean fun. Oh yeah, we do our shows at a church gym, so folks can repent of what they just saw without having to leave the grounds.
Anyway, my visions of folks swinging from chandeliers and being tased by riot police were replaced by a single county commissioner walking up to the county mayor and flopping a letter down on the table. It was his resignation which he apparently had at the ready if the ambulance service didn’t get raises.
“I’m ashamed of this commission,” he announced after tendering his resignation from his second district post. “With that said, I’m done.”
That’s right, Mr. Johnson said what he said and symbolically dropped the microphone and walked away into the sunset (well it was already dark out). Talk about sticking it to the man.
“Take this job and shove it,” was going through my mind as I watched him stroll out the door.
Hey, I don’t know this Johnson guy but he’s got my respect for standing up for what he believes in and, in my book, he’s as tough as any 350-pound wrestler I get body slammed by on Saturday night. By the way, the commissioners assure most meetings aren’t quite so interesting. We shall see.
Contact Duane Sherrill at news@smithvillereview.com
