Mea culpa.

As a political commentator whose core message relates to the imperative of political civility and understanding, I have one significant stain on my record. Better late than never, I wish to correct that and make amends. 

For at least two decades, maybe more, Wellington Webb was my nemesis. And I, his. Our battles were fierce, even legend.

In and of itself, that is not necessarily wrong. As many have noted, politics is not bean bag. Or for the faint of heart. Differences can be real and important. Not everything can be papered over. Beyond that, it is crucial to hold political leaders to account, in this case a strong mayor in a city with a strong-mayor form of government. 

But there comes a point when differences can become obsession and legitimate criticisms can morph into rhetorical cheap shots. With respect to Mayor Webb, I crossed that line — and did so frequently and with zest.

For historical context, Mayor Webb and I go far back. We served together in Gov. Dick Lamm’s administration. Years later, as a young consultant, I handled the advertising for Webb’s successful campaign for Denver auditor. We were never especially close, but we worked together well.

Then, in 1991, Webb became Mayor when the campaign of the presumptive frontrunner went badly off the tracks. He stepped into the big office in City Hall and I donned the hat of the pundit detractor, never shy with a critical comment.

In retrospect and certainly then in real time, Webb’s first term was problematic. It was his job to bring Denver International Airport to completion, a task rife with delays, cost over-runs and troubled contracts. 

Two then-robust Denver newspapers, each with two reporters assigned to the City Hall beat, put the Webb administration under a microscope and found much to be questionable. He was a big-city mayor in what was not yet fully a big city. He was not shy about using the powers of the office to reward and to punish; to benefit friends and to penalize foes. 

Suffice to say that his style was not my style — and I was quick with the jab to point out every deficiency.

Come Webb’s re-election campaign in 1995, Councilwoman Mary DeGroot, emerged as his main challenger. I directed her effort. It was a bare knuckles brawl long before more recent technology and social media. I orchestrated a “Taste of Old Chicago” press conference in front of the pizza place by that name at which DeGroot rolled out a laundry list of questionable hires and contracts. I prompted her to refer time and again to Webb’s office as akin to the calling plan advertised by telecom company MCI, “Friends and Family”.  

DeGroot secured both newspaper endorsements and won the first round of voting, albeit narrowly. With that scare, Webb shuffled his team and they savaged DeGroot in the runoff campaign. Included in their arsenal were distinctly racial appeals that moved key voters, notwithstanding harsh commentary from editorial writers and civic leaders. When the dust settled, Webb had secured a second term by a comfortable margin, though there was nothing at all comfortable about the months that led up to it.

In the ensuing years, I became the go-to source for every reporter near and far who needed a glib, hostile quote about Mayor Webb. I rarely failed to disappoint. 

Though never confirmed, I was told that the Denver Post editor had years later announced to his newsroom, “Sondermann’s had 500 quotes in our paper ripping Wellington Webb. Not one more.” That edict lasted a month or two before Post reporters were back to calling and I was back to gladly obliging.

Over the years, my role as the Webb antagonist became increasingly definitional. For a birthday gift, my office colleagues gave me a Webb countdown clock, showing the hours, minutes and seconds left in his term. Over a drink once with a Webb staffer with whom I had remained cordial, I was told, “The Mayor’s enemies list is ever-changing. You’re the one constant.” I lapped it up. It was part of my identity.

But then something happened a few years back. Mayor Webb and I were thrown together on a nonprofit board. Closer than that, we tag-teamed on a high-profile project on the organization’s behalf. 

And a realization hit home: While I had invested many years in developing a one-dimensional caricature of this man, he was in fact a complex, full, multi-dimensional person. 

However sordid our history, I enjoyed his company. As I believe and hope, he valued mine. We even served as cheerleaders for each other through knee replacements around the same time.

None of this diminishes our conflict in years gone by. My differences with him on various issues of both policy and principle were genuine. More than that, they were important, at least in the moment.

Given the gift of hindsight, what I lacked during this period was perspective. I saw only what I wanted to confirm my hardened impression. I had programmed my brain to filter out any countervailing input. Sad to say, I had even turned it into a game of sorts: Reporter calls; I respond with a quick, quotable, Pavlovian zinger.

Lost in all of this was the whole person in all his rich facets.

Whatever has been said and done, no mayor has ever loved Denver more or filled the office more fully than Wellington Webb. 

He is now an older man and I am fast getting there. To Mayor Webb, I say that I regret my simplicity. I am sorry for always taking the bait. I honor our differences, but now see you more completely and respect your life’s work. 

To my readers, I offer this as a cautionary tale given our toxic political culture. There is nothing wrong with fighting hard for your beliefs. But there is also nothing wrong with showing regard for those with whom you disagree. As there is something to be said for healing when all the shouting is over. 

Eric Sondermann is a Colorado-based independent political commentator. His weekly column appears every Wednesday in ColoradoPolitics. Reach him at EWS@EricSondermann.com; follow him at @EricSondermann