A City That Works?

Just a week and a half earlier, the National Council of La Raza had decided to withdraw its 2009 convention from Kansas City. The move was to protest Funkhouser's appointment of Minuteman member Frances Semler to the parks board. And today, in front of so many Hispanic professionals, the mayor was this banquet's first speaker.

He showed up just before dessert and sat at a table near the front. After a while, Gina Cline of the Builders' Association introduced him.

As Funkhouser headed to the stage, the crowd applauded politely. No one hissed. No one threw cheesecake.

The mayor commended everybody for their work and said he is committed to making sure that companies owned by minorities and women get a fair share of City Hall's business.

"I've been called stubborn," he said. Enforcing the city's rules for contracting with women and minorities is, he said, "one place where the city needs to be very stubborn."

"I think Kansas City is a very progressive city," he said — which sounded a little off, given how this past summer's discussions about race often sounded like the 1950s as the Semler siege played out. But when Funkhouser said Kansas City, Missouri, had better rules for minority and women businesses than other cities, the crowd interrupted with applause.

Mostly, though, it seemed as if Funkhouser was mumbling and that he couldn't look crowd members in the eyes. But maybe that's because his microphone was too low and he kept looking down at his notes. Then he stopped reading.

"I'd be happy to answer questions if you have them," he said. "If not, I'll go back to work."

The room was quiet. It wasn't a particularly long silence — not long enough for someone to compose a question in his or her mind or to muster the courage to ask. It was an empty silence.

"Everybody's perfectly happy?" Funkhouser prompted.

The line got a laugh. No one raised a hand. He waited another moment, looking a little surprised. Still nothing.

"That's great. Thank you all."

Then the mayor left the stage. He didn't sit back down to finish his lunch but instead headed back through the crowd. There he was, lumbering out of the banquet hall. Apparently he wasn't kidding when he said he'd go back to work.

It was a strange few minutes for anyone who might have expected Funkhouser to take a few lumps from a community still stewing over Semler.

Maybe they were just tired of talking about it. Or maybe they weren't as angry as those of us in the media (particularly a certain daily newspaper) had made it seem for weeks on end.

Or maybe people were just on their best behavior. After all, it was an occasion for everyone in the room to celebrate their accomplishments — successes that often come with extra obstacles. And the vibe had been generally lively as people got up to walk around and shake hands with old friends while servers passed out hearty plates — each stacked with a beef filet and a quarter chicken — worthy of such a hardworking crowd.

In fact, some of the people in the room will be facing each other later in court.

Namely, the Hispanic contractors. Their organization, KCHACE (Kansas City Hispanic Association Contractors Enterprise), has a lawsuit pending against the city of Kansas City, Missouri, the city's Economic Development Corporation, the TIF Commission, H&R Block, and J.E. Dunn Construction — one of this banquet's sponsors. Filed in 2005, the suit alleges a litany of failures, negligence and breaches of contract with City Hall and minority contractors during construction of the H&R Block headquarters downtown.

Now that H&R Block employees are counting cash in their cubicles at 13th Street and Main and Garth Brooks is leading sold-out sing-alongs at the Sprint Center, it's easy to forget how minority contractors had to beg for a share of the downtown building boom. But the lawsuit still isn't settled. Originally scheduled to go to court last month, the trial has been postponed until next year.