BRADENTON — Gov. Charlie Crist appears from a hallway at Bradenton City Hall, and the people, packed into seats before him, sit up straight. It's a few minutes after 9 a.m., but Crist's sleeves are already rolled to the forearm, like he's been working in a field since sunup.
"I know some of you have been here since 7:30," he says.
A woman in the front row raises five fingers.
"Five?" the governor asks. "Five? God bless you."
"God gave us two ears and one mouth," says Crist, here to conduct what he calls "citizen hours." These are meetings in which he grants every Frank and Fran Florida five minutes for a private, no-topic-off-limits chat. After a pat-down, of course. "Democracy is a beautiful thing, but it only works if we listen."
A line forms at the door to two private meeting rooms. Each citizen wears a sticker bearing a number, deli-style. The event has a therapeutic feel. The people need someone to listen to them, and the governor has five minutes.
One woman's child has been missing for two years. Another complains the county illegally demolished her house. A man thinks drilling off Florida would decrease our dependence on foreign oil.
Then there is Eric McGrath, 34, holding the first issue of the Mugshot, a 16-page tabloid portraying Manatee County residents who couldn't attend.
"Fifty people a night on average get arrested in Manatee County," says McGrath, editor and publisher of the one-man operation, which uses the motto: "Have you got your Mugshot today?" "You get arrested, it's not something you plan for. You don't know anything about it.
"This is a guide."
Why did he wish to meet with the governor?
"I saw in the paper that you could meet him, so I wanted to show him this and maybe get his feedback."
McGrath, a tall man with a shaved head who wears shorts and sandals, first dreamed of publishing the Mugshot 10 years ago. He was working as a bail bondsman in St. Petersburg when he stumbled across a similar publication. He printed 4,000 copies of his first edition and distributed them to 25 convenience stores.
"I'm trying to get into Circle K," he says. "That would be big."
The woman sitting in front of McGrath wants to talk to Crist about reforming the sex offender law. Her son is listed on the state's sex offender registry and can't visit his own children.
She flips through the Mugshot until she lands on Page 12, headlined: SEX PREDATORS.
"Not every sex offender is a predator," she tells McGrath, "but they all get lumped together."
There's a moment of uncomfortable silence.
"I'm trying to be more politically correct with this than the other papers," he tells her. "Maybe I could do a better job at explaining that."
A member of the governor's staff appears.
"Number 14," he says. "FOURteen."
McGrath disappears down the hallway and is replaced in line by David Miner, who wants to give the governor a law he typed up the night before called "Taxpayer's Right to Know Act."
"This is a great thing the governor's doing," Miner says. "You don't have intermediaries. You remove all the filters. You get face to face."
"Man to man," says the guy standing next to him, who just finished a Meals On Wheels run.
Ned Teves joins them in line. On his Office of Citizen Services form, he has written HURRICANE. He has been thinking about the billions Florida spends on hurricane property damage. He has a plan to share with the governor.
"You know how submarines can be piloted from airplanes?" he asks.
Yeah?
"You load the submarine with hundreds of tons of TNT and ice, then you guide it into the eye of the hurricane. Then, boom!"
What would that do?
"It's gonna do something!"
McGrath reappears, weaves through the crowd and heads for his Pontiac. He says he didn't get to meet the governor. He got the lieutenant governor, "the Kottkamp guy." He gave him a copy of the Mugshot.
"I think he thinks it has potential as a good community resource," he says. "He was more or less just listening and nodding."
Ben Montgomery can be reached at bmontgomery@sptimes.com or (727) 893-8650.
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