Near the end of Thursday's unusual public negotiation between Hollywood commissioners and representatives of an Orthodox Jewish synagogue, Commissioner Beam Furr broke out a bottle of Excedrin Migraine tablets.
With so many lawyers and so much distrust around the table, headaches were inevitable.
And with Mayor Mara Giulianti pouring kerosene on the fire at several key moments (Henry Kissinger she ain't), an explosion seemed unavoidable.
"I was going to walk out," Rabbi Joseph Korf said Friday.
He stayed. The commission approved an offer to settle the synagogue's federal discrimination suit. But it's anyone's guess whether the long-running dispute between the city, the Chabad Lubavitch center and the neighborhood where it settled in two homes is really close to an end.
The Chabad might drop its suit, but angry neighbors could sue the city for allowing the synagogue to buy up to three more homes nearby without the usual special permit process. The city's offer also included $2 million and allowing the synagogue to stay put.
"So we trade one suit for another?" Commissioner Fran Russo said before the vote.
Russo approved the offer, with only Giulianti opposing in a 5-1 vote.
From a legal standpoint, this is a fascinating case involving the complex balancing act between a city's right to regulate zoning, a religious group's First Amendment right to worship, and a residential neighborhood's desire to live without undue noise or parking jams.
This being Hollywood, it's also gotten ugly and divisive, thanks to a commission that's been inconsistent and insensitive in its handling of the case.
Korf rightly points out that the city shouldn't have tried to force them out while it turned a blind eye to Rosa Lopez, whose west Hollywood home has a Virgin Mary shrine with large monthly gatherings.
And some residents are justifiably unhappy that the Chabad is being rewarded after flouting parking and zoning regulations.
The city found itself here after a bizarre week in which lawyers told a federal judge there was a settlement, only to have it scuttled when some commissioners said they never agreed to the terms.
The more I consider this case, the more I want to reach for Furr's Excedrin. Everyone has valid points, but the tone has gotten so shrill it's hard to muster sympathy for anyone.
Here's how I'd like to see it play out: Chabad takes the settlement, works out a deal with nearby Temple Sinai to buy a portion of its 5-acre campus and relocates. Then the city figures out what to do next time this happens.
If the synagogue remains in the two houses on the 2200 block of North 46th Avenue and buys more houses for a parking lot, school or day care center, it can only bring more ill will.
"It's been a nightmare," said Lisa Self, who lives behind the Chabad, left the meeting in tears in protest of the offer she considered a betrayal. "Why give them more houses? Did the judge say they have to get more houses?"
I feel bad for residents like Self, a married paralegal who has two children, 4 and 8. She's lived in her home for 12 years and never expected to find herself living behind a growing house of worship.
The Chabad moved into the residential homes in 1999, relocating from a nearby strip mall after losing its lease. After neighbors complained, the city rescinded the synagogue's special permit, but a federal judge declared the city's zoning code unconstitutional.
Self, who's Jewish, doesn't appreciate being cast as anti-religious or anti-Semitic. She complained about numerous outdoor nighttime events that keep her children up. She showed me a flyer for a Purim festival last March. "This was during FCAT week," she said.
I visited the Chabad on Friday, and aside from the large Menorah out front, you wouldn't know the homes, which face a busy four-lane street, were a synagogue. One home serves as the main sanctuary, with about 80 folding chairs facing the Torah ark, the other has a smaller sanctuary and the synagogue office.
A sign hangs near a door leading to the backyard: "Kids please keep noise down."
If reasonable heads prevail, maybe this noise will end soon.
Michael Mayo can be reached at mmayo@sun-sentinel.com or 954-356-4508.
With so many lawyers and so much distrust around the table, headaches were inevitable.
And with Mayor Mara Giulianti pouring kerosene on the fire at several key moments (Henry Kissinger she ain't), an explosion seemed unavoidable.
"I was going to walk out," Rabbi Joseph Korf said Friday.
He stayed. The commission approved an offer to settle the synagogue's federal discrimination suit. But it's anyone's guess whether the long-running dispute between the city, the Chabad Lubavitch center and the neighborhood where it settled in two homes is really close to an end.
The Chabad might drop its suit, but angry neighbors could sue the city for allowing the synagogue to buy up to three more homes nearby without the usual special permit process. The city's offer also included $2 million and allowing the synagogue to stay put.
"So we trade one suit for another?" Commissioner Fran Russo said before the vote.
Russo approved the offer, with only Giulianti opposing in a 5-1 vote.
From a legal standpoint, this is a fascinating case involving the complex balancing act between a city's right to regulate zoning, a religious group's First Amendment right to worship, and a residential neighborhood's desire to live without undue noise or parking jams.
This being Hollywood, it's also gotten ugly and divisive, thanks to a commission that's been inconsistent and insensitive in its handling of the case.
Korf rightly points out that the city shouldn't have tried to force them out while it turned a blind eye to Rosa Lopez, whose west Hollywood home has a Virgin Mary shrine with large monthly gatherings.
And some residents are justifiably unhappy that the Chabad is being rewarded after flouting parking and zoning regulations.
The city found itself here after a bizarre week in which lawyers told a federal judge there was a settlement, only to have it scuttled when some commissioners said they never agreed to the terms.
The more I consider this case, the more I want to reach for Furr's Excedrin. Everyone has valid points, but the tone has gotten so shrill it's hard to muster sympathy for anyone.
Here's how I'd like to see it play out: Chabad takes the settlement, works out a deal with nearby Temple Sinai to buy a portion of its 5-acre campus and relocates. Then the city figures out what to do next time this happens.
If the synagogue remains in the two houses on the 2200 block of North 46th Avenue and buys more houses for a parking lot, school or day care center, it can only bring more ill will.
"It's been a nightmare," said Lisa Self, who lives behind the Chabad, left the meeting in tears in protest of the offer she considered a betrayal. "Why give them more houses? Did the judge say they have to get more houses?"
I feel bad for residents like Self, a married paralegal who has two children, 4 and 8. She's lived in her home for 12 years and never expected to find herself living behind a growing house of worship.
The Chabad moved into the residential homes in 1999, relocating from a nearby strip mall after losing its lease. After neighbors complained, the city rescinded the synagogue's special permit, but a federal judge declared the city's zoning code unconstitutional.
Self, who's Jewish, doesn't appreciate being cast as anti-religious or anti-Semitic. She complained about numerous outdoor nighttime events that keep her children up. She showed me a flyer for a Purim festival last March. "This was during FCAT week," she said.
I visited the Chabad on Friday, and aside from the large Menorah out front, you wouldn't know the homes, which face a busy four-lane street, were a synagogue. One home serves as the main sanctuary, with about 80 folding chairs facing the Torah ark, the other has a smaller sanctuary and the synagogue office.
A sign hangs near a door leading to the backyard: "Kids please keep noise down."
If reasonable heads prevail, maybe this noise will end soon.
Michael Mayo can be reached at mmayo@sun-sentinel.com or 954-356-4508.
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