“What if they don’t listen?” The young girl seated at Jake’s table stood up. “Hi, I’m Bailey Sutton. What if they just go ahead and do whatever they want? Do we have a way to force them not to take the resort guy’s offer? Is there a town vote or something?”
“Hi, Bailey,” Wyatt said, liking her more by the minute. Young, sharp, and wanting to be involved. “Vivi—Ms. Baudin—has been attending council meetings for some time, and from what I gather, without any other plan to choose from, the town doesn’t have to vote. The council members you elected to oversee your interests will decide yay or nay.” He looked at Vivi, who nodded that he’d gotten it right. “Of course, you do have a say in the next election, meaning you can vote out the council members you think aren’t representing you properly. When you’re in between elections, like now, sometimes, if those in a position of power fear they’ll lose your votes in the future, it can be an incentive to keep you happy.” He lifted a hand to tamp down her enthusiasm. “However, unfortunately, what is more often the case is that they have campaign donors with deep pockets—and they have one with very deep pockets in this particular situation—and those donors are the ones the council will be most interested in keeping happy.”
“Can’t we have like a town meeting or something? Voice our opinion on this at least?” Bailey looked around the room, then back to him. “Loudly if we have to?”
Wyatt smiled, and there was a scattering of applause and voiced approval for Bailey’s question. “Absolutely. You can call for a town hall meeting. It’s not the same as you all getting to officially vote on the proposal, but it’s the next best thing. That is where you can make your voices heard. That is honestly exactly what you do.”
“Only you’re saying that even if we do, they’re probably still going to make Mr. Deep Pockets happy, and he wants this resort, right?” Bailey asked. “Is there anything else we can do?”
“First, they can’t change what they don’t know you want changed, so you have to present your case. Make your opinion on this known. Second, at the town meeting, if not before, you would also present your solution. It’s hard to get anyone to say no to a big shiny object that will solve all their problems if you’ve got no other choice to offer.”
“Even if it ticks off Mr. Deep Pockets?” Bailey asked, looking more dubious and distrustful by the moment.
Wyatt nodded. “Even then. Especially then. If no one ever challenges the council members, they’ll just continue to do more of whatever is in their own self-interest. Push back has to start somewhere.”
“Couldn’t we present this alternate solution to them directly?” This from Seth. “Or is the town hall spectacle necessary?”
Wyatt shrugged. “You could, yes. You could get petitions signed as a measure of showing town support for your plan, and the lack thereof for theirs. But nothing beats a room full of people, all with the same concern, and an expectation that their needs will be met in some way. It’s more visceral.” He lifted his hands. “I’m not saying be a mob. The exact opposite, actually. You can accomplish more with direct, sincere, open dialogue. Coming in hot can oftentimes trigger instant defense mechanisms, and then everyone digs in their feet and nothing gets done.”
Vivi smiled. “If we show them that there is overwhelming opposition to their plan, won’t that make it clear that if they go against the wishes of the majority, no amount of campaign contributions from Mr. Deep Pockets is going to help them get the vote next time around?”
“Yes, that’s step one of the town hall meeting. Step two is the alternate proposal.”
“I think we all know who Mr. Deep Pockets is.” This from Seth. “The Falls isn’t that big.” He scanned the room, and Wyatt could hear Hammond’s name being murmured. He looked back to Wyatt. “Rumor is he doesn’t play fair. What can we do if he’s got some backroom deal going?” His tone made it clear he suspected this to be the case, and the nods of everyone else confirmed he wasn’t alone in that suspicion.
“Go beyond your locality, draw broader attention to your situation,” Wyatt told him. “More attention brings more pressure to bear on those in control of decision making. The problem with most of the places I travel is not having a direct conduit to the outside world, not one that would draw attention to them in the way they need. You all already have those established links via your music center, your mill, and your various independent Web sites. In this case, however, because time is of the essence, gradual campaign-building from multiple sources won’t get the job done in time. We need focused attention, all at once, with as many eyes on the situation as possible.” Wyatt looked toward the rest of the folks in the room. “I can help with that. Take your story from a local one to a national one.”
“A global one,” Jake added.
Wyatt smiled and nodded toward Jake. “It’s true that if I stream from here, people from all over the world will be watching, but all we need to do is to draw attention in this country.”
“How does that work?” Vivi asked. “This . . . streaming.”
“It’s essentially like watching a video online, only it’s live. I post an announcement to my subscribers when a live event is going to happen, so they know when to tune in, then I assemble my crew—camera guys, that kind of thing—and take my viewers with me to show them what’s going on. It starts a conversation, which, due to the numbers of people watching, spreads very quickly, and that usually gets notice.”
“From who?” This from an older gentleman in the back. He stood. “Mabry Jenkins. I own the apple farm and cidery. What kind of notice do we want?”
“Well, normally I want attention that grows the story beyond the online conversation to one that is seen and discussed in newspapers and on television. What that does is bring the problem into a broader realm where folks who might be able to help can hear about it.”
“How does that make a difference? Who out there can step in and help?” Addie Pearl asked.
“We’re not looking for that kind of help in this case,” Wyatt said. “All we need is the conversation itself. It becomes a news story beyond your local press, and suddenly the council is having to answer to people who can broadcast what they’re doing to a much bigger audience and bring a lot more pressure to bear.”
“So, we’re overrun with news trucks and reporters?” asked Mabry. “If we can’t shame the council into doing the right thing when they know we all oppose this resort, then why would that work? What do they care if the whole world knows?”
“Yes, it might mean news trucks,” Wyatt said. “Hopefully, yes. You are right that we’re talking about Paul Hammond. If he doesn’t play fair, as Seth pointed out, then the last thing anyone involved in those backroom kind of deals wants is media attention. Media attention isn’t just reporters on sidewalks, it’s also journalists digging, asking questions, and publishing their findings. I’m sure you have local papers you could alert to this story, but since time is of the essence and I’m already here, I’m willing to help speed up that process.”