Mayors
Michael Wharton
Mr Mayor: the Office of First Citizen W. P. Johns (Robert Hale £8.50) Few readers of the Spectator, I should think, are likely to become mayors, even Lord Mayors. But if there are any such this book (apart from being very entertain- ing) will tell them all a mayor needs to ,know. If they are nervous of public speak- ing (one of the most important functions of mayors), it will give them useful hints: be sincere and have something to say, use jokes in moderation, don't rant and rave, make sure your speech is suitable both in content and length, for your audience. The Would-be mayor will learn how not to em- barrass guests at civic dinners (if one of how picks up the wrong fork, do likewise); how to propose toasts and reply to them; "ow to pay compliments; how to deal with royal visitors, bishops, MPs (these, because of their tendency to self-importance, often demand special tact and social dexterity) and with the Great and the Truly Great (You can tell the latter, writes Mr Johns, by their seeming unaware of their greatness. It may be so.) There is also the tricky business of deal- ing with the Armed Forces: how to review a Guard of Honour (don't get too near the guard commander's sword and remember to wear a hat, for without a hat to raise you Cannot return a salute). There, is the pro- blem of dealing with foreigners: when sPeaking to a Frenchman, don't refer to 'the English Channel'; beware of assuming that all Americans regard themselves as our cousins'; be tactful if there is any question of 'special services' as part of the hospitali- ty offered to a rich Arab; and if you pay a reciprocal visit to your 'twinned' town, be Prepared for a positive endurance test of eating, drinking and speech-making. Now that the only practichl duties of a mayor, as opposed to his ceremonial, social and charitable duties, are to preside as im- Partial chairman at council meetings, and announce election results, many people
think of mayors as somewhat absurd figures. This is unfair and would once have been very dangerous. The office of mayor (maire, major domus) appeared in England in the 12th century as the Norman equivalent of the Anglo-Saxon borough reeve, or chief magistrate. As such he had immense power and influence. He picked jurymen and could ensure by various means that their verdicts were acceptable. As returning officer for Parliamentary elec- tions he had great influence on the choice of candidates; he also had a say in deciding who should vote at all. Until the 19th cen- tury the mayor and his council, disposing as they did of a Parliamentary and local patronage ('borough interest') and also providing justices of the peace, were in practice a self-perpetuating oligarchy. The system, though often grossly corrupt, worked well enough in its way. But it was inevitable that the Whigs of Lord Grey's administration of 1832, that fatal year, should want to reform not only Parliament but also what was now beginning to be call- ed 'local government'.
The Municipal Reform Act of 1835 was meant in the first place to remove the foun- dation of the mayor's power — the union of the mayoralty and the chief magistracy in his person. But in fact the mayor, now chosen annually from among the coun- cillors, did not cease to be a magistrate by virtue of his office until the Justice of the Peace Act of 1968. However, throughout the 19th century, with the gradual extension of the franchise, the mayor's power steadily declined; the insultingly named Corrupt Practices Act of 1851 and the introduction of the secret ballot both contributed. Mayors were no longer necessarily gentlemen; some even began to be paid. Finally, the infamous Heatho-Walkerian Local Government Act of 1972 swept away the remains of the old system by granting the status of borough, with the right to elect a mayor, to any of the newly created district councils which wanted it.
It is sad that of the 333 district councils created by the Act less than half chose borough status. The rest became mayorless; a mere chairman, indistinguishable by dress or ritual, now presides over their councils' deliberations. And of those mayors who re- main many are no doubt under attack from egalitarians who want to abolish the past and regard 'all that dressing up' as a waste of time and money and a symbol of the hated Establishment. Even worse, perhaps, they may be defended by the sort of people who argue that ancient ceremonies and civic pageantry — the mayor in his scarlet robe, cocked hat and chain of office, with his mace-bearer walking before him — are valuable 'tourist attractions'.
If the ancient office of mayor had really sunk to this it might be best to abolish it altogether, with all the other symbols of civic pride and tradition. England would lose a lot of innocent pleasure with these pomps and vanities. But let nobody sup- pose that local government would become less corrupt and nepotistic. Mutual back- scratching, wheeling and dealing, winking and nodding, the dispensation and receipt of favours, can be carried on just as well in other places as in the Mayor's Parlour — a term, delightful in itself, which seems to embody all the serio-comic associations of this ancient office. The decline of the mayor from a powerful, even awesome figure into a decorative and amiable one has coincided with the erosion of English local government itself and with ever-growing centralisation. If this process, which has speeded up under allegedly Conservative governments, continues at its present pace it may soon make an end of effective local government altogether. But that is another and larger issue.
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