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ut of the blue, the Long Island newspaper
Newsday
got
in touch with Clarence Michalis ’40. It was April and they
wanted to interview the 90-year-old.
“I didn’t want that article,” says Michalis, who serves as
mayor of Lattingtown Village on Long Island. “He called
me up and he said ‘you know, you’re newsworthy.’ I said
‘Why? I’m just doing a job that I’ve been doing for years.’”
The reporter went on to tell Michalis that the paper had
done research into the matter, and that he holds the
distinction as the longest-serving mayor in the history
of New York State, and likely, he is one of the longest-
serving public servants in the history of the country.
“I said, ‘Well that’s still not news; it just happens to be
a statistical anomaly. I don’t make news. The only thing
I’m interested in is doing a job.”
Being mayor carries with it nearly unlimited triumphs,
challenges, and worries. It’s Saturday and Michalis is mon-
itoring the weather. Not a week earlier, Hurricane Isaac
plowed through the Gulf Coast, following an ominously
similar path as Katrina in 2008. The diminished storm
has made the Eastern Seaboard waters treacherous –
perhaps not at devastating levels, but enough to potentially
shake the bearings of a boat navigating Long Island Sound.
Michalis considers it his job to keep track of Mother
Nature, but he is also monitoring the conditions for the
following day to see if it’s possible to go sailing along the
North Shore of Long Island, where he has lived for six
decades. The nonagenarian is ready to seize the day, rain
or shine. It’s indicative of the man who’s never been
content to just sit around, even in retirement, from the
first day he assumed his post as mayor of Lattingtown
Village more than 44 years ago.
When Michalis took office in 1968, Richard Nixon had
just been elected. A year later, Neil Armstrong, then a
38-year-old
Apollo 11
astronaut, landed on the moon.
Over the course of his 44-year-career as mayor, Michalis
has held office through six presidential administrations
– so far.
He’s humble about his accomplishment, characterizing
small government as “the best type of government in the
world.” Local government, he says, isn’t driven by money
or political power; it’s about protecting your own backyard:
“Of the 64 villages in Nassau County, about 50, 55 of them,
they don’t pay anything to the mayors, trustees, zoning
board, or planning board. Everybody’s a volunteer. I’ve
lived here for about 60 years and I’m just protecting the
community I live in.”
Roughly 2,000 residents live in Lattingtown Village, and
they trust Michalis to conduct village business. Michalis,
though, is quick to dismiss his role, giving the credit to
those around him for making decisions on their own. It
allows him to monitor operations like waste disposal and
village construction, rather than dictate the minute-to-
minute pulse of the place. He doesn’t have an office, instead
conducting business from a conference table in City Hall,
where he also heads monthly trustee meetings. In his long-
ago established routine, every day Michalis immerses
himself in city projects that range from mandating the
filling of a pothole to writing letters that remind residents
which day they’re allowed to water their lawns (even-
numbered homes on even days, odd-numbered homes
on odd days).
By most standards, Lattingtown is a small community;
the village manages only 15 roads and the area has no
permanent post office. But what seems small on the out-
side, demands even more attention internally. A village
made up mostly of wealthy retirees and suburbanites,
Lattingtown is based in one of the wealthiest counties in
the country, where strict zoning policies, parking restric-
tions, and community standards apply. In a 2009 letter to
residents, Michalis outlined a string of logistical planning
and statewide compliances in which the town was engaged.
It included the stabilization of village tax rates during the
recession (a notable achievement, considering the tax rate
had nearly doubled three years prior), a legal battle with
the owner of a recently demolished and seemingly aban-
doned building (an obtrusive eyesore and source of com-
plaints for many residents) and the mandatory place-
O
PHOTO BY AUDRE TIERNAN