THE LOW-DOWN ON THE TOWN Impudent, uncensored account By C. Castle

Live from City Hall...The Big Show (or what the cameras didn't capture)

No, that wasn't a sporting event last night at City Hall. It was the City Council deciding the fate of public education.

But as the debate ticked down to a final vote, it resembled more the climax of a playoff game than a public parliamentary decision.

There the council was, two members short and unable to rally the necessary five votes to give the beleaguered school district $2.1 million to avert looming staff and budget cuts.

There was the nail-biting crowd, watching what seemed a done deal threatening to unravel.

And there were former mayors Judy Abdo and Denny Zane on the sidelines, frantically trying to stop the clock before the final play.

Abdo -- who was cross-stitching a floral pattern -- dropped her knitting needles and jumped to her feet. She was joined by fellow Santa Monicans for Renters' Rights leader Zane, who had stood at the back of the room most of the night watching as the strategy agreed upon by diverse factions of the community seemed to be working to a tee.

But now there was Councilman Paul Rosenstein, who had broken from the SMRR ranks a half decade ago, threatening the vote.

The school district, Rosentein said, can't be trusted with the money. Just look at their track record:

First the district was $4 million off, then $5 million off the budget mark. Then, after the board managed to cut down the deficit to $1.45 million, suddenly an additional $1 million shortfall was uncovered late last week by a parent sleuth.

Make them perform, Rosenstein said, before they can see a penny of taxpayers money.

Rosenstein's position had the crowd buzzing, and Abdo and Zane rushing toward the dais, waving their arms and signaling for a timeout. The sight of two former mayors calling plays from the sidelines set members of the crowd into a tizzy.

"What are you doing? You know how bad that looks? You think you're still council members," said one reporter slapping his forehead in disbelief. "You're not on the council anymore."

"I can't believe it," said another member of the crowd, while another reporter sat staring with her mouth hanging open.

For months, there had been talk that members of the SMRR council super-majority meddled in staff affairs. There were rumors that SMRR's top leaders called some of the council shots. Heck, even "The Dirt" promised an upcoming article billed as, "What's up with the power some ex-city officials try to wield. Who tells everyone 'I'm the ex-mayor, do as I say?'"

And now here in front of a packed chamber was public proof that maybe "The Dirt" wasn't just an anonymous, typo-ridden paranoid rag.

Here were two former mayors and top SMRR leaders jumping and waving their arms trying to get the council's attention in order to plot out the next move.

(One SMRR council member in a late night phone call to us insisted Abdo and Zane were only trying to get council members to wrap up their discussion and vote. Hmmm, isn't the hand gesture for "keep moving" a twirling motion and not one hand placed horizontally above the center of a vertical hand? Just wondering.)

Councilman Richard Bloom spotted the hand motion and took the cue. He got up and headed toward the signaling coaches. But Assistant to the City Manager Katie Lichtig stood up simultaneously and threw what appeared to be a block. Bloom headed back to his seat, and Lichtig had a few stern, quiet words with the former mayors out of earshot of the public.

(Asked what Abdo and Zane wanted, Bloom said, "I never found out. Judy was kind of walking up and motioning, and I got up to find out what was happening, and my name was called to take a vote so I never did find out." Asked what he thought they wanted, Bloom speculated, "They probably had some idea of how we could reach a compromise.")

By now, much of the crowd was livid at Rosenstein.

"He's taking away the kids' money," one red-faced, SMRR-supporting school advocate told a reporter. "That's your headline."

"How 'bout, 'Former Mayors still think they're on the council,'" the reporter shot back.

The crowd buzzing, Abdo and Zane retreated to the back of the room, where they huddled with councilman Kevin McKeown -- who had stepped down from the dais because of a conflict of interest -- and School Superintendent Neil Schmidt, among others.

(Schmidt had spent the latter half of the evening pacing the sidelines with a dour look on his face. At one point, he turned and simply faced the wall.

Periodically, at the council's request, the superintendent would approach the podium to assure council members he was willing to go along with their suggestions. "We don't want to be up here year after year after year," Schmidt told the council. "It's awkward.")

With the SMRR-backed plan in jeopardy, Mayor Pro Tem Pam O'Connor pulled a move that would make the politicians in her hometown proud.

Using Richard J. Daley-like savvy, the Chicago native made a strategic parliamentary move, casting a vote with the SMRR opposition. The successful maneuver delayed the decision until next week -- perhaps long enough for Mayor Ken Genser to return from the hospital.