At Cleveland City Hall, strong personalities and passion for the issues can result in heated - and memorable - moments. Dust-ups have included name calling, shouting matches, walkouts, attempted coups, a successful coup and an attack with a chair.

Chuck Crow, The Plain Dealer

Strong personalities collide at Cleveland City Hall

CLEVELAND, Ohio – A testy exchange between Cleveland City Councilman Jeff Johnson and council President Kevin Kelley raised some eyebrows during a recent budget hearing.

Kelley, who was chairing the hearing, perceived Johnson's questioning of Mayor Frank Jackson to be disrespectful and cut the councilman off. Johnson loudly protested and accused Kelley of being Jackson's "wing man."

Does this deserve its own chapter in the long history of dust-ups in Cleveland City Hall?

You be the judge. Here's a look at some clashes over the years.

-- Robert Higgs and Leila Atassi, cleveland.com

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A question of respect

Mayor Carl Stokes had stormy relationships with two City Council presidents during two terms in office - James Stanton and then Anthony Garofoli, left, after Stanton was elected to Congress.

At one point in 1971, the feuding with Garofoli reached a point where Stokes, feeling he wasn't accorded proper respect, walked out of a council meeting with his staff and didn't return for a month.

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Tell us what you really think

In spring 1978, Mayor Dennis Kucinich ended Richard Hongisto's short career as chief of police, literally firing him on live television during the 6 o'clock news.

The firing triggered an effort to recall Kucinich as mayor. As recall efforts progressed toward an Aug. 13 vote, Kucinich's relationship with City Council deteriorated.

“It's hard to believe that so many people in one place could be so stupid," Kucinich raged to the media after one meeting. "If they aren't stupid, then they are crooked, or maybe both. This council is a bunch of buffoons intent on degrading itself. This is the most reactionary group of fakers to ever hold office.”

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Oh yeah? Says you!

As mayor, Kucinich's relationship with Council President George Forbes, right, wasn't all smiles.

As the mayor spoke at a July 1978 council meeting, criticizing a proposed lease that he had vowed to veto, Forbes told him to stick to the issue at hand. Kucinich shot back that he determined the issue.

"Not in this chamber," Forbes responded.

But Kucinich persisted, at one point telling Forbes "You have no ability, Mr. Chairman, to censor my remarks."

Ultimately Forbes ordered that Kucinich's microphone be turned off. Kucinich stormed out of the meeting, followed by 15 aides.

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This chair's for you

When Jeff Johnson was a brash, fledgling legislator in 1987, he brushed up against then-Council President George Forbes, who was powerful, entrenched and revered in Cleveland’s black community.

Johnson publicly called out Forbes during a council meeting, accusing him of holding up funding for one of Johnson’s development projects as punishment for Johnson having defied council leadership on another issue. Forbes stormed from the room, and Johnson followed, calling after him that perhaps he was “not man enough” to face him.

To patch things up, an informal gathering of black council leaders was arranged at Vel’s Party Center. But the argument resumed. At one point an angry Forbes picked up a chair and flung it at Johnson, striking Johnson's shoulder, accounts of the event say. Bystanders intervened.

The incident gathered so much attention that Councilman Mike Polensek later joked that he wished Forbes had tossed a chair at him instead of Johnson. Since then, the clash has become legendary, recounted and referenced countless times by media.

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Outta my way!

After enduring four years of eroding support, City Council President Jay Westbrook, left, was ousted in a November 1999 coup, ending his 10-year leadership reign.

The change, triggered by support from 11 of 21 council members, put Mike Polensek in charge.

The rebellious council members felt Westbrook had kowtowed to Mayor Michael R. White to keep mayoral support for his council coalition and viewed White 's influence as so pervasive that council was rendered almost irrelevant. For that, they held Westbrook to blame.

Westbrook had, in fact, survived a previous coup attempt two years earlier.

Polensek, a persistent critic of White, said council would demand accountability and prompt answers to questions it put to the mayor, but he also pledge to strike a conciliatory note.

Time would show that Polensek and White had a rocky relationship.

Westbrook's overthrow was carefully choreographed.

Council members, all Democrats, were notified Sunday evening that there would be a caucus at Democratic Party headquarters the next morning. By the time Westbrook arrived, 10 members who supported the ouster were already present.

"I asked him to sit down and have a cup of coffee and a doughnut,"Polensek said later. "He didn't say anything. He just stood there and looked at people."

When the 11th member who supported change arrived, Westbrook's fate was sealed.

Ultimately the formal vote was 21-0 for Polensek. The group invoked a council rule that required all members of the caucus to vote with the majority or face being ejected from future caucus meetings.

Westbrook displayed one flash of anger that day as he talked to the media.

"It is the role of council to deliberate, here at this table" he said, slapping his palms on the table where council debates legislation, "in the light of day."

Westbrook retired from council in 2014.

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Email enmity

In 2000, then-Mayor Michael R. White had declared April 28 as Unity Day, a celebration of the “bridges of communication and understanding we have forged” in Cleveland and “dedicated to bring people together.”

But that dedication to togetherness faded when White aides asked their boss whether Polensek, then president of City Council, should be invited to speak.

“I don’t want him near me on the podium,” was White’s e-mail response.

It was one of hundreds of email messages showing the depth of White’s hostility toward City Council members, even some White loyalists on council.

Polensek said the administration's e-mail, with its jabs at both supporters and critics, proved the mayor "really doesn't have any friends over here."



But in May of that year, Polensek and White met for lunch.



By Polensek's account, the meal quickly deteriorated into a White tirade, with the mayor complaining that city corporate leaders had deserted him and council members were needlessly attacking him.



White's account was summed up in an email message he wrote to his chief of staff, Judie Zimomra, immediately upon his return to City Hall:



"Judie: In case you're wondering, the Polensek lunch was a disaster."

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A matter of trust

Mayor Jane Campbell and then-City Council President Frank Jackson pledged to work together when Campbell took office in 2002. But the partnership splintered in 2004.

Jackson was a strong proponent for a law designed to have city residents hired for major construction projects. When the federal government said the city could not enforce it, Jackson complained that Campbell didn't fight hard enough for it. And he was further irked by the belief that Campbell hadn't kept him in the loop on talks with state and federal authorities about the law.

“Do I trust her? No way. Will I trust her? No.” Jackson told The Plain Dealer.

The friction played a role in Jackson's decision to run for mayor in 2005, an election in which Jackson defeated Campbell by 10 percentage points.

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Stand by me

For decades, Cleveland City Council maintained an image of racial harmony, even as the cast of black and white members and the city’s demographics changed. But that image took a hit at a council session in 2007, when then-Councilwoman Sabra Pierce Scott angrily accused her white colleagues of not doing enough to deflect public criticism of black members.

“Nobody stands with us, and we’re tired of it,” Pierce Scott said during a caucus of more than a dozen council members.

The outburst came as black community leaders said they were appalled by the silence of black council members in response to the shooting of black teenagers by police and in response to the city finding that a white contractor used bogus minority firms to get city contracts.

The black newspaper Call and Post minced no words in an editorial that asked why it took a white councilman, Mike Dolan, to suggest punishing the white contractor for subverting the city’s minority-hiring rules.

Pierce Scott accused her white colleagues of letting black council members shoulder all the blame for the city’s problems, though she later backed away from that statement when pressed by the media.

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Harassment case stirs harrumphing

In 2007, then-City Council Clerk Emily Lipovan accused City Council President Martin J. Sweeney of sexual harassment in a complaint filed with the Ohio Civil Rights Commission.

Sweeney had appointed Lipovan as council clerk in 2006 and she was approved by the 21-member council. Then, with little explanation, Sweeney announced in September 2007 that Lipovan would resign and receive a $56,000 payout.

But Sweeney withdrew the offer after council members, who would have had to approve it, objected.

The following week, Lipovan filed the complaint. While it was a complaint against all of council, it said only that she and other staff members were targets of sexual harassment and that she repeatedly asked Sweeney to stop the behavior.

Sweeney denied any wrongdoing.

Ultimately the city paid Lipovan $60,000 to withdraw her complaint with no finding on its merits. Lipovan also resigned as council clerk. The case also cost the city more than $27,000 for attorney fees for lawyers representing City Council and Sweeney.

Before the case was closed, though, several members of council expressed frustration that they weren't given full briefings on what an investigation into the accusations discovered. They complained that they were left in the position of not being able to explain to constituents what the city was paying for.

An investigator's final report submitted to council in January 2008 did not provide specifics of Lipovan’s harassment accusations. Rather, it said only that the accusations involved words, not contact, and that each claim had been countered by witnesses.

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Redistricting rancor

Jeff Johnson revels in his reputation as the voice of opposition. That has at times annoyed the council leadership team, some of whom have seen him as a grand stander.

The city charter forced council to redraw ward boundaries in 2013, and downsize from 19 to 17 wards in response to a dwindling population. Then-Council President Martin J. Sweeney saw it as an opportunity to draw Johnson out of the picture. New ward boundaries pitted Johnson against a longtime colleague, Councilman Kevin Conwell, while carving out a special ward for self-professed Sweeney devotee Councilman Eugene Miller.

Johnson's solution: He choose to instead run against Miller, whom he beat handily later that year.

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Marvin Fong, The Plain Dealer

Not-so-fond farewell

That 2013 redistricting process left a bad taste in the mouths of several council members, who felt Sweeney had abused his power to accommodate the wishes of his most loyal colleagues.

That November -- six months after redistricting was completed and weeks after voters had chosen new ward representatives – Sweeney reprised the drama in a blistering tirade on council floor against some of his colleagues. Sweeney called them out by name, accusing them of unnecessarily making waves during an already difficult process. And he concluded his remarks by telling Polensek that historians would remember him with only two words, "irrelevant and pathetic."

Sweeney then made his exit while Polensek tried to rebut the insult.

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Absence with malice

Former City Councilman Eugene Miller, left, was known for his temper and confrontations with colleagues.

At a meeting in April 2013, Miller interrupted a presentation by Metroparks CEO Brian Zimmerman to accuse Councilman Matt Zone of alerting media to Miller’s spotty attendance record at committee meetings. The two men had to be escorted to a hallway, where a shouting match ensued.

Miller resumed his verbal attack on Zone at a Monday night council meeting, despite council rules against impugning the character of colleagues.

That hostility eventually caught up to Miller. He lost his seat later that year, when fellow incumbent Councilman Jeff Johnson ran against him in the newly drawn 10th Ward. Miller now works for Mayor Frank Jackson as an assistant administrator in the Public Works Department.

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Chuck Crow, The Plain Dealer

Utility tensions

A series of emails in September 2013 between Cleveland Public Power Commissioner Ivan Henderson and then-Public Utilities Director Paul Bender illuminated tensions between utilities administrators and offered a glimpse into dysfunction within CPP.

Henderson submitted the emails along with a complaint to the city’s Equal Employment Opportunity Office, accusing Bender of “harassment, ridiculing and name-calling.”

The emails showed tensions mounting between them as Bender criticized Henderson’s leadership style, challenged his priorities and accused him of a lackadaisical attitude and poor grasp on problems facing CPP.

In one exchange, Bender told Henderson that “your stuff is piling up and you are not involved.”

“These are all things I’m going to need a detailed understanding of before they can move,” Bender wrote. “So you need to know them better than me. Right now, your staff and finance are doing all the work – briefing me on half-baked processes, generally. It’s getting to a critical stage.”

The EEO Office eventually rejected Henderson’s complaint.

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Mark Naymik, cleveland.com

Wait, I'm not finished!

Councilman Jeff Johnson, a challenger to Mayor Frank Jackson in November, has been a frequent critic of Jackson, arguing the mayor has lost touch with the people in the city's neighborhoods.

Tensions boiled over in December 2014, after the U.S. Department of Justice delivered a scathing report on the police department’s excessive use of force against citizens.

During a council meeting at the time, Johnson called for Safety Director Michael McGrath's immediate resignation. The speech prompted Jackson’s entire administration (absent Jackson, who was speaking elsewhere that night) to walk out of the meeting.

“I don't care who walks out on me,” Johnson shouted, as the officials paraded from council chambers. “But you cannot walk out on the people of Cleveland.”

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Mark Naymik, cleveland.com

You're out of order! No, you're out of order!

The exchange between Jeff Johnson and Kevin Kelley enlivened an otherwise routine hearing in February at which Mayor Frank Jackson outline his budget goals to City Council. Kelley, as finance committee chair, ran the meeting.

Johnson took issue with a line in Jackson's budget cover letter that said a goal was to provide services to make "neighborhoods of choice." Johnson took that to mean the city was prioritizing one neighborhood over the other. He began quizzing the mayor.

Kelley cut off Johnson saying the mayor should get to respond.

Johnson didn't like the interruption.

"I can speak about the budget. Am I out of line?"

At one point, as Kelley was saying Johnson was out of order, Johnson looked at the mayor and said Kelley was stepping in as Jackson's "wing man."

"OK, councilman. You're done," Kelley said.

"No, we're not done," Johnson said. "No, we're not done. You're disrespecting me as a councilman. You've chosen to step in because it's uncomfortable."

Johnson later told the mayor he was relaying views of his ward constituents and apologized if the mayor felt the criticisms were unfair. But the exchange with Kelley flared again when Kelley said the mayor should be allowed to respond.

"Just stop talking over me," Johnson said. "Just stop talking over me."

"Councilman, you are out of order," Kelley replied.

"No, no. You are out of order," Johnson shot back.

Through it all, Jackson sat silently, and at times looking amused.

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Honorable mention: A donnybrook on neutral ground

In August 1999, Michael R. White and George Forbes, left, met at the exclusive Shoreby Club in Bratenahl to discuss the city's refusal to allow the NAACP to hold a concert near a rally the Ku Klux Klan planned to hold at the Justice Center.

At the time, White had been mayor nearly a decade. Forbes was no longer in city government, but remained a powerful figure as the president of the NAACP in Cleveland.

The discussion deteriorated into insults and chair-throwing, one of White's aides later stated to The Plain Dealer. An aide to Forbes confirmed several objects were thrown at White.

Leading up to the meeting, Forbes, the former City Council president who helped nurture White's early political career, had sharply criticized the mayor because White granted the KKK a rally permit. But after Forbes lost a court challenge, he agreed to meet with White to discuss a united stand against the Klan's message.



A Forbes aide said later that Forbes felt White was talking down to him and Forbes grew angry. White aide Yvonne Sheffield-McClain, who had been waiting outside the room during the meeting, had to restrain Forbes after things got ugly.

No charges were filed by either party and it appeared that no one needed medical attention.