Until the past few years, Americans seemed to have forgotten what a dirty business politics is. Reality comes crashing back when the fairy tale turns out to be a tragedy.

The sweet campaign rhetoric is easily soured by harshness of the hoarse voices in the legislative chamber. Very little is as it appears.

Carleton Cronin writes about life in the urban wilds of West Hollywood.

Americans, at heart, are romantics. We still believe in a happy ending to all enterprises, especially those which put on the line our purses, hopes, integrity, dreams. Without us seated in the bleachers, mouths agape with anticipation, the political circus would fold.

We are so easily entranced by a handsome face and a well-turned phrase; we are excited by the possibility of a place on the train to prosperity and happiness, no matter how extreme the odds.

Hop on board, folks! Let me show you the promised land.

Then, most likely, we’ll be dropped off at a remote site with no phone and no water and no return ticket. That’s politics.

Politicians will promise, default, lie, delight, cheat, steal, pontificate, posture, , smirk, surprise, etc. – in short, be human. We should not expect anything else.

Once in a while, a true charmer will come along and we will hang our greatest hopes on his wagon. But they only last just so long and, with term limits less than we might wish.

We lost Assembly member Mike Feuer to term limits just when he was rolling along, picking up allies along the way.

We have no control with term limits; the mandate takes away our choices.

I have lived in West Hollywood since 1975 when it was a county backwater and only Ed Edelman seemed to know where it was located.

This 1983 photo portrays the intersection where now stands the Sheriff's Station. You can see the bus depot at the top, and the vacant land where train tracks once lay in the median. Note the electrical poles.

The area had a reputation as a place a bit out of control. A call for police might be answered sometime in the following hour – or not.

Infrastructure was old-ish, with crumbling streets, electric poles and wiring lining Santa Monica Boulevard and street lighting more suitable for an industrial district.

There was an entrenched gay community reluctant to accept outsiders, especially a “straight” couple bringing with them the possibility of children.

 On the other hand, Barney’s Beanery posted its odious sign outside and printed the demand on its matchbooks. (Remember matchbooks?)

The chic-chic shops were still in Beverly Hills, not here. A gas station stood where Cecconi’s restaurant now resides.

There was little traffic because there was little to do here. When our three boys were old enough, they could toss a football around in the street without much fear of being run over. While certainly far from bucolic, the area was a bit remote and quiet.

The heady days of building a local consensus for possible cityhood were an awakening for many. It had never before then occurred to me that a city was a good thing.

The Coalition for Economic Survival (CES) led the drive for cityhood to protect renters.

However, those who were not as fortunate as I to have a house and a steady job with reasonable pay, rapt with the slogans and aspirations of the Coalition for Economic Survival, spearheaded the drive, engaging the gay community and anyone else they could find – until the city was finally chartered.

At the city's tenth anniversary party, I saw a small-ish figure slinking around the periphery and recognized an old pal in Tom Hayden. He said “his CED” (Campaign for Economic Democracy), had started the whole business and he wanted to see how it had turned out.*

He appeared to be satisfied. But, by then, some of the plating was wearing thin. The specter of politics was seen roaming about.

“If wishes were horses, beggars would ride” my grandmother, the cautious, penurious Yankee, who was always scornful about politics, would remind me when I expressed desires which might seem too farfetched.

Yet, I had joined the cityhood crowd and hoped for a “city on the hill” which would show the world how people should live together.

I recall slipping off my shoes to walk around on the outsized paper rendering of the city streets, etc., at the WEHO Park auditorium, joining others to scribble our ideas on the papers.

Even though we’d had a few bumps in the road such as a mayor who had left in disgrace and a lot of false starts, we were happy as virgins at the senior prom: What could go wrong?

Valerie Terrigno was WeHo mayor for only a year; she was convicted on non-city business embezzlement charges.

It is naïve to believe that elected officials cannot be seduced by the power we give them, isn’t it?

But, most of us were not looking for wrong-doing, we were looking for direction and energy and a person to represent our desires.

We trusted our elected officials to take us down the path we had described in the First General Plan. If you look back, you’ll find that it was not a straight road.

It was full of twists and turns, cul de sacs and “calming devices” and, in the end, probably could not be reconciled with what we thought we wanted.

But any reasonable person would understand such diversions. Life throws lots of curves.

Returning to the halcyon days where no one recalled where we once were as a city won’t make it a better place to live.

Which of today's council candidates recall the Eastside's street prostitution and crime problem? Which of the term limits proponents who are using the measure as a quick fix to get into office remember it?

How about the people with AIDS dying on Santa Monica Boulevard where there is now an AIDS memorial?

Who among you who have little or no institutional memory recall that this is the reason for the brass plaques under the palm trees that line our main street?

Term limits is a look through rose-colored glasses.

To be continued…

* Editor's note: Larry Gross, executive director of the Coalition for Economic Survival, took issue with Mr. Hayden's statement, saying, "Tom Hayden had absolutely nothing to do with West Hollywood's incorporation."