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ONE IS THE LONELIEST NUMBER:

MARK AND MARY BROPHY WANT YOU TO VOTE YES ON 1

by Kate Tarasenko

[Originally published in the Rocky Mountain Bullhorn (Fort Collins, Colo.),


March 17-23, 2005, pg. 13]

If politics is defined as the art of diplomacy, one wonders how well Libertarian candidate Mark Brophy may actually fare if he is elected Fort Collins‟
new mayor when voters choose Ray Martinez‟s successor on April 5. Running as a third-party candidate and winning less than 4 percent of the vote
for the senate seat that both he and Martinez lost to Bob Bacon, it may be a moot point.

But the Massachusetts native can barely contain his contempt as he refers to his prospective colleagues on the City Council as “corrupt” and “out of
touch.”

While Brophy makes impassioned arguments against “medicating” the city‟s drinking water with fluoride and, especially, for repealing the city‟s
2.25 percent “regressive” grocery tax (two items also on the ballot), he can‟t seem to get comfortable in his chair and breaks eye contact every
mid-sentence.

He doesn‟t come off as a typical politician, but he doesn‟t exactly come off as a people person, either. Given his devotion to his point of view,
however—even when he seems to contradict himself or his party—one suspects that the soft skills of interpersonal communication are somewhat low
on his to-do list of political priorities.

“It‟s obvious that nobody‟s going to do this if we don‟t,” says Brophy, sitting in McCoy‟s Morning Glory Coffee Shop in south Fort Collins to
discuss “Yes on 1,” the drive to repeal the city‟s grocery tax. Joined by his wife, Mary, who holds up the other end of the banner for their Smaller
Government Committee, Mark evinces an almost hostile determination in describing their fledgling fight against the status quo.

The 40-something couple operates their own specialty printing business as a supplement to Mark‟s lucrative career as a business speculator, buying
and selling ripe business concerns—”not stocks,” as has often been cited in the press.

“We‟re used to going against the odds,” says Mary, in calm counterpoint to her fidgety spouse, citing both their struggles to keep their post-dot-com
business afloat, as well as their under-funded campaign to repeal the grocery tax.

As former Republicans, the Brophys abandoned the GOP and came out as Libertarians, whose dictum that a government which governs best governs
least more closely aligns with their own professed entrepreneurial spirit and fiscal conservatism.

“The „No on 1‟ opposition is a well-funded contingent of toadies beholden to special interests and an overfed stable of municipal employees,”
declares Mark in a direct shot across the bow.

He cites the city‟s disregard of the Gallagher Report, in which a hired consultant determined that the City of Fort Collins is overpaying wages and
benefits compared to other cities.

The ad hoc committee appointed to make recommendations based on the report will, in fact, make its presentation to City Council later this month.

Nevertheless, Mark produces an anonymous letter, with no return address, which he believes was mailed to him by a municipal employee, along with
a flyer which advertises three days off for its “2005 Well Day Incentive Program.” The missive, printed in capital letters and addressed to “Yes on 1
Mr. Brophy,” asks rhetorically, “If the city government can offer to increase its employees‟ time off by three days a year, without impacting work
schedules, does this mean that it is currently overstaffed?”

As an example of their business applications, as well as to underscore their political point, the Brophys have reproduced the full-color paper flyer as a
large-format fabric sign.

As if they aren‟t facing enough difficulty mainstreaming their issues, the Brophys recount their failed attempt to get the grocery-tax repeal vote on last
November‟s ballot in the general election, in spite of filing petitions with twice the number of required signatures. Clearly agitated by the fresh
memory of their unsuccessful lawsuit against the city, Mark accuses Council Member David Roy of stating, in session, that postponing the vote
till April would ensure a lower voter turnout.

“I have it on videotape,” he claims, and is immediately distracted by another complaint, that of being denied a jury trial and having the case decided
by a judge, by definition “a government employee.”

One “special interest” Mark points to is the new “police super-center” slated for construction at Timberline and Drake.

“If the repeal goes through,” contends Mark, “things like the new police station, which will be the size of Wal-Mart, and which is basically Ray
Martinez‟s crowning glory for his years as a police officer, won‟t get automatically funded. It will have to be approved by a vote of the people
instead.”

Short of winning the repeal, what would the Brophys consider a victory?

“A public debate of government expenditures,” says Mary. “We also need to force the city to prioritize better. We‟re not going to lose essential
services with the repeal.”

“The opposition is using scare tactics,” agrees Mark, in spite of a projected deficit of $5.6 million in tax revenue.

But when Mary refers to the Human Relations Commission—one “special interest” on the chopping block—of being little more than “a book club
with a retreat,” it‟s easy to see why their entire platform gets relegated to the political fringes.
The Brophys also frequently refer disdainfully to some local well-known “rich people” living in “big houses,” in seeming contradiction to their
free-market, self-made, bootstrap philosophies. Indeed, the devoted couple is pitted in an ongoing marital debate about whether Stanford-educated
Mary is actually “rich,” as Mark declares, or merely “middle-class,” as Mary contends.

Another ideological red flag may be that the Brophys consider the average citizen only “slightly informed.”

“Seventy-five percent of people we stopped outside of grocery stores didn‟t even know they paid a grocery tax. Most issues, like taxes and fluoride,
are too complicated to understand.”

But rather than spend time self-educating, voters should expect officials to “develop and enact the appropriate policies,” a premise that skids right off
the Libertarian runway, precluding a vigilant electorate and a reined-in body politic.

Lapses aside, it seems a somewhat isolating journey to be a Larimer County Libertarian. The top five campaign contributors to Mark‟s failed senate
bid were Mark himself. And while they can‟t afford to conduct their own polls, the Brophys are hoping that last year‟s Coloradoan story, which cited
63 percent in favor of a repeal, will bear out in April.

For now, they can content themselves with the “victory” of the March 14 League of Women Voters-sponsored forum at City Council chambers,
where Mary participated in a debate on the ballot issues for two hours with a rapt audience of 150. They can also count a victory with Amanda, a
20-something blonde who interrupts our interview to shake Mark‟s hand and say, “I believe in your message.”

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