Monday, November 20, 2006

Retiring mayor's tough shell screens soft heart

By Teresa Lane
Palm Beach Post Staff Writer
Sunday, November 19, 2006

PORT ST. LUCIE — At 7 p.m. Monday, Mayor Robert E. Minsky will tap his gavel on the lectern one last time, say goodbye to the city's lawmakers and drive his Ford pickup home with the woman who's shared his life the past 38 years.

Not much pomp and circumstance for the mayor of one of the nation's most up-and-coming cities, but that's the way Bob Minsky has lived for 73 years.


Classic quotes from Minsky
1. 'Well, when you put it that way ... I still disagree!' - Common joke Minsky used at council meetings.
2. 'It is most unfortunate that you are under the delusion that your opinions are of consequence or importance to anyone but yourself, especially to me.' - February 1993 letter to a developer.
3. 'It's been very disappointing to find out that I am mortal after all.' - March 1993 comment to a reporter after critics said he was maturing in office.
4. 'The way GDC (General Development Corp.) developed this place, I describe it like the Oklahoma stampede - everybody goes out and drives their stake and waits for civilization to catch up.' - September 1994 comment about the city's lack of a downtown.
5. 'GDC stands for Genetically Defective Community. They sort of brought us into existence, but I sometimes look at it as a case of incest.' - January 1998 comment about city founderGeneral Development Corp.
6. 'Your letter is exactly the kind of letter someone who uses Preparation H for toothpaste would write. As for how I feel about CNN now that I have your apology, let me say you and your motley crew can all go to hell.' - December 2004 letter to CNN after Minsky was booted from a hurricane special the network was taping.
7. 'I was thinking about sending a condolence card to Burnham (Institute), seeing as how they'll be moving to Orlando now.' - August comment about the biotech institute choosing to build a lab in Orlando rather than Port St. Lucie.
8. 'The next time Martin County starts harassing us, we can tell them, "You think you're such a big-shot county? We've got more people than your entire county. Why don't you pick on somebody your own size?" ' - September comment about Port St. Lucie's population surpassing Martin's.
9. 'I am constantly amazed at how hard some people will work to prove they are ignorant of the truth, and how willing they are to prove it.' - October letter to the editor responding to a resident's complaints about utility contracts and downtown redevelopment.
10. 'I don't like it that people will think of me every time they flush their toilets, but some things you've got to live with.' - November comment about his work to expand water and sewer lines citywide.

Simply. Directly. Larger than life.
"You either loved him or you didn't," said state Sen. Ken Pruitt, "but that was one of his redeeming virtues. He said what he meant, and he always had the city's best interest at heart.
"You just don't replace a Bob Minsky."

Indeed, Minsky's transition from gadfly to statesman mirrors the city's own coming-of-age during its 45 years on the map. Although Minsky never lost his acerbic tongue, he was more prone to compromise than confrontation after a rocky start in 1992 that saw City Manager Don Cooper hosting the equivalent of marriage counseling sessions for council members.

Cooper, once the target of candidate Minsky's wrath, said he's never seen a politician mature quite like Minsky, who has served longer than any other mayor in Port St. Lucie history.
"In an era where everyone was a slave to being politically correct, Bob was more concerned about getting the problem solved," the city manager said. "He was just saying what everybody else was thinking."

Ironically, city founder General Development Corp., the eventual bane of Minsky's existence as mayor, brought the Colorado real estate agent to Port St. Lucie in 1978.

"His aunt knew about GDC, and she told us he might be able to get a real estate job here," said Emily Minsky, who met her future husband while tending bar in a military officers club. "He got his Florida real estate license, but GDC didn't have an opening."

Minsky began selling real estate for Robert DeSantis, who still has a commercial real estate office in Stuart.

Although most people know the public side of Bob Minsky, the one who fires off hyperbole-laced letters and takes on anyone who dares criticize his beloved city, few know the man behind the rough facade.

"He's a pussycat," said his wife, who is three years older than Minsky and calls him the most honorable man she's ever met. "I've seen him come home many a night almost in tears, and he'd say, 'I feel so bad for the people because I had to say no.' It hurts him because we've been there."

They met at an Air Force base while Minsky was in the midst of a 20-year aerial photography career. Both were divorced with children, and neither was looking to jump into another marriage. But something clicked between the Jewish son of a clothing manufacturer and the Irish farm girl from Maryland.

"I said, 'What are you doing sitting at the bar by yourself? You look lonely,'" she recalled. "He said, 'I'm looking for a baby sitter. You wouldn't be able to help me.'"
It just so happened that she had an 18-year-old daughter who was looking for a job. Three months later, Bob and Emily married.

And life never would be dull again.

"Nobody thought it would last," she said. "We were so different. Bob was quiet and reserved, and I was one of them gals that had seen it all. I said what I felt, and I liked a good time."
In retrospect, she said her openness may have helped launch Minsky the extrovert. After retiring from the Air Force, he dabbled in numerous jobs, from moving furniture and managing a Montgomery Ward retail store to selling real estate and working as an armed security guard at the St. Lucie Nuclear Plant. Most people knew him as a mailman.

Although the Minskys never went without food or clothing for their nine children, she acknowledges that times weren't always easy.

"He had to borrow $15 a week before payday just to feed the kids," she said. "That's why the stories about people losing their homes to taxes really gets to him. We've come from nothing, really."

Hardship and frugality

His childhood in the New York City borough of The Bronx was sometimes laced with poverty, he said. Although his father, the son of Russian immigrants, managed to open a small clothing factory in New York's garment district, the business collapsed twice. His father ultimately was forced to work for another company after union demands skyrocketed.

"I remember my mom selling her jewelry," Minsky said. "My dad was a very decent person. I never saw him raise his hand to anyone in the family."

Observers say Minsky's humble beginnings led him to be among the most financially conservative members of the city council.

Indeed, Minsky's political career was launched after the city threatened to charge him $16,000 he didn't have for water and sewer service along the infamous "Bayshore Corridor."
One of his greatest achievements in office was launching an expansion of water and sewer lines to every lot in the city for an average cost of $2,200 a lot. Expansion of parks for children also was high on his to-do list. The city even named its only gymnasium after him.

"He's one of the most honest men I've ever known," said longtime friend and colleague Jack Kelly, who helped Minsky get reelected before seeking his own term on the city council.

Although Minsky lost one reelection bid after voters accused him of growing too arrogant in office, the two-year respite proved a blessing in disguise. It was during that time that his wife developed breast cancer, prompting Minsky to remain at her side for more than a year.

"When they gave me chemo, he was sitting on the floor at the base of my chair," she said. "He cried when they told me I had cancer, not me. He told me if he'd been in office, he probably would have quit."

With his wife in remission and no trace of the disease remaining, Minsky approached her in 2000 while she was cooking.

"He said, 'Do you mind ...,' and I knew what he was asking," she said. "Before I could even say, 'Go for it,' he was out the door, burning up the road to city hall to file his campaign papers.
"He told me, 'You know I love you dearly, but our city ain't done nothin' in the past two years, and I can't stand it.'"

Minsky admits that, if it weren't for feeling guilty about leaving his wife at home every day while he dons a suit and heads to city hall, he probably would have run for his sixth term this year.
But the former high school swimmer can feel it in his bones: He's not as quick as he once was, and he no longer has the same zest for the job.

Plus, there are the six great-grandchildren and a few grandchildren in Oregon and California he and his wife haven't met. The job, and the public, always came first.

Not anymore.
"We'd like to travel, go see the national parks," said Minsky, who waited until Thursday to clean out his office in time for Monday's swearing-in of Mayor-elect Patricia Christensen. "I feel like the city is in very good shape, and it will continue to prosper. It's healthy for someone new to take over the reins."

Although some speculate Minsky will jump back into the local political scene after a few months of political detox, he vows that won't happen. But he's extended an open door to Christensen anytime she needs a little advice from an old pro.

He also passed out gifts Thursday to his fellow council members, many of whom had vocal battles with him on the council dais, only to crack jokes with him in the hallway a few hours later. Even his detractors admit life was never dull when Minsky was in the building.
"Love him or hate him, everyone will miss Bob Minsky," colleague Kelly said. "People have said he was a colorful mayor, but I think he was the aurora borealis of mayors."

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