Mayor's 'code red' messages not to be missed

By Emily J. Minor

Palm Beach Post Columnist

Saturday, October 29, 2005

I'm worried about Lois Frankel.

She used to be a state representative, off in the big city, fighting battles for the little people.

 Then she became the mayor of West Palm Beach, a job that basically entails mood swings and meddling.

Now?

She's stalking me. By telephone.

The woman calls more than my mother.

"No one is going to accuse me of not giving them enough information," said Frankel, laughing, who says she loves the city's newly refined "code red" phone system.

Yes. This just in.

Mayor Lois Frankel can call any city resident, from anywhere, anytime, with any message she wants.

I'm waiting for the call about free beer at the next Clematis by Night.

For the past 10 days or so, though, it's been all-Wilma.

Wilma's coming. Wilma's still coming.

Wilma came, and she took your city drinking water with her. (It's back now.)

'Garbage is very important'

The mayor's phone calls, about a dozen separate messages that have gone out to thousands of city residents since before the storm, are part of the city's "code red" phone system — in which the mayor and her staff can look at a city map, zero in on the neighborhoods they want to reach, and start the calls.

And pardon her if she doesn't talk long — no easy task with this mayor. Frankel said they're charged by the minute, and reimbursed later by FEMA.

She does write the messages herself. And she also decides how late to place the calls.

If there's an early curfew, she won't call after 9 p.m. Unless it's about garbage. The other night, she kept the garbage calls coming until 9:30 p.m.

"I don't usually like to call that late," she said. "Garbage is very important."

The phone calls — which some people might actually mistake for a personal, one-on-one call from the mayor — aren't just for hurricanes. "If it were an absolute emergency, I would call, obviously, continually," Frankel said.

Oh, joy.

There's one good reason to support the Department of Homeland Security.

"We did a special 'code red' just for the people in mobile homes, and we can also do it in Spanish to a select group."

'It's almost comforting'

As time went on, and the storm wreaked more havoc, Frankel kept calling, her husky Lois voice getting coarser with each call.

Friends called her private line, worried about her, telling her to take some time to rest.

Once, she even had the nerve to ask someone else to call in her behalf.

I found that a little insulting.

Was it something I'd said?

Frankel said if she has to call twice in one day, she has someone else make one of those calls. "So people won't think they're the same message," she said.

Frankel, who's done hours of TV and radio before and after the storm, said, "People actually love the phone calls.

"Especially people who live by themselves," she said. "People want to know that somebody cares about them. It's almost comforting."

Almost.

But if the mayor shows up at my front door — with no flier about free beer — I've got my own hurricane plan.

Lois Frankel Restraining Order.

No judge would refuse me.

Although, frankly, if she doesn't call this weekend, I might miss her.