Sal DiCiccio enters final year on Phoenix City Council
Sal DiCiccio had a leg up in 2009 when he applied for the empty seat on the Phoenix City Council. The former councilman had established himself as a budget hawk during his first two terms in the 1990s, and the city was facing a looming financial crisis at the onset of the Great Recession.
One quirk about DiCiccio, though, was making then-Mayor Phil Gordon and Councilmember Thelda Williams a bit uneasy: He was known to cause a commotion.
The council was a friendly bunch at the time. They even went to dinner once a month.
So DiCiccio said he promised them that if they appointed him, he would “behave.”
“He said he wouldn’t be cynical and so outspoken,” Williams recalls. “Less negativity.”
The council went forward with his appointment, but within months DiCiccio was lambasting the creation of a food tax.
And for the past 12 years, after voters elected DiCiccio to the spot, and then elected him again, and then again, DiCiccio has done very little to “be good,” as Williams requested. He has raised issues and cast votes on the dais to make political points. He has been called racially insensitive for his blunt social media posts. He even sued the city and subpoenaed his fellow council members.
DiCiccio said he will take the blame for not clarifying exactly what he was promising when he said he would behave.
“But they wanted me to fall in line and that wasn’t going to happen. Ever.”
Now 63, nearly 30 years after he launched his first City Council campaign, the often outspoken and arguably sometimes out-of-bounds Republican councilman on the supposedly
non-partisan council is in his final year representing District 6. He’s reached the city’s term limits after three full terms in a row, and he said he doesn’t plan to try to come back.
While his legacy in the city is debated, he leaves with the reputation of a political firebrand, unwilling to compromise on his support of police and his consistent attack of what he sees as wasteful government spending.
His departure creates an opportunity for fresh representation of an affluent and influential toss-up district for the first time in more than 20 years, since then-Councilman Greg Stanton dominated the district in the 2000s. District 6 covers Ahwatukee, Arcadia, the Biltmore area and a portion of north-central Phoenix.
Voters will pick his replacement in November 2022, with a potential runoff in March 2023.
Even though the election is still a year out, the appeal of not having to beat an incumbent is already drawing a crowd interested in the seat. Seven people have filed statements of organization with the city, even though the candidates can’t start collecting signatures to get on the ballot until May and can’t file paperwork until June.
No one has filed statements of organization for the other open seats, in council Districts 2, 4 and 8, which are all served by council members who are eligible for another term.
Among the applicants for DiCiccio’s seat are retired Phoenix Assistant Police Chief Kevin Robinson; former mayoral candidate Moses Sanchez; and Sam Stone, DiCiccio’s longtime former chief of staff.
DiCiccio has endorsed Stone. But Williams — along with five other former Phoenix mayors — have endorsed Robinson, with Williams saying that the district doesn’t need a “second Sal.”
Even though the election is still a year out, the appeal of not having to beat an incumbent is already drawing a crowd interested in DiCiccio’s seat. Seven people have filed statements of organization with the city, even though the candidates can’t start collecting signatures to get on the ballot until May and can’t file paperwork until June. No one has filed statements of organization for the other open seats, in council Districts 2, 4 and 8, which are all served by council members who are eligible for another term.
DiCiccio wasn’t always a Republican
As DiCiccio’s legacy is debated, his history shows he is more dimensional than the public perception of him now.
He wasn’t always a Republican. His parents and close family growing up were Democrats, he said, and he spent a good part of his college years calling himself a socialist – before, as he puts it, he learned better.
Born in Ohio to Italian immigrant parents, his family came to Phoenix when he was 5. He learned English in the first grade. He grew up in Tempe and went to Tempe High School.
He said his parents were laborers and he grew up poor. His parents didn’t speak English well, so he often found himself translating or communicating for them. As the oldest of three boys, he felt as if “everything was on him.”
One time someone crashed into the family car while it was parked on the street. His parents were having trouble communicating with the insurance company, so he took the phone. He tears up today when he talks about telling the insurance agent how badly his family needed the full amount it would take to buy a new car.
He worked odd jobs starting in the fourth grade to try to make money. He paid his way through Mesa Community College and then Arizona State University to get a business degree.
His childhood, of working hard to try to be successful and also understanding the plight of immigrants, shaped some of his views today, he said, from to his support of the business community to understanding of the importance of creating a better legal path for immigrants.
He got his political start volunteering in U.S. Rep John Rhodes’ Tempe office, spent a summer in college working on Capitol Hill in Washington, D.C., and, after college, worked for U.S. Sen. John McCain’s campaign.
His goal was always to live in Washington, D.C., he said, but by 1986 he was living in Ahwatukee and working in real estate.
It was during a conversation with a few of his friends, when he was complaining about a few local issues such as the lack of a stoplight at a dangerous intersection, when they urged him to run for City Council.
Using money he saved up and his parents as door knockers, in 1993 he ran for council as a Republican and defeated a popular incumbent.
‘More congenial’ at first
Once elected, DiCiccio immediately began to criticize city spending.
When the city went to build a parking garage downtown for the Arizona Science Center, DiCiccio questioned why it needed to be so big and expensive. He said when he investigated he found that the city was building it mostly to support the parking needs of the new Bank
One Ballpark for the Arizona Diamondbacks.
He wasn’t able to stop the parking garage project — just cut the costs — but he said it was a defining moment for him because he stood up against the city’s “power brokers.”
His first term, according to several accounts, was relatively subdued, at least in the public eye. He focused on neighborhood issues and cutting spending, as he had promised in his campaign.
He handily won reelection in 1997, after promising voters in an editorial in The Arizona Republic that he would “maintain my commitment to an open door for all citizens.”
Williams, a Republican who was a council member at the time, said DiCiccio did bring conflict to the council back then, but much of it was kept behind the scenes.
“I guess you could say he was more congenial,” she said.
Already, though, he was becoming known for blunt outspokenness.
DiCiccio soon began rattling his colleagues, and in particular Mayor Skip Rimsza, so much so it started to spill into the public realm.
In 1999, DiCiccio called a news conference to push for the city to pay for more after-school programs for children.
Rimsza, a Republican, accused him of “grandstanding” on issues for children and survivors of domestic violence, and wrote a memo accusing DiCiccio of putting his political interests ahead of the city’s. He said DiCiccio was conducting ”circus sideshows” while other council members quietly went about their business.
DiCiccio responded at the time that the only surprise in the letter was the effort and time the mayor apparently put into writing it.
After a tumultuous few years with Rimsza and council members, he resigned from the council for an unsuccessful bid for Congress in 2000.
In 2002, DiCiccio ran against Jan Brewer for Arizona secretary of state and again lost.
“I believe it’s time for a change in Arizona,” the then 44-year-old DiCiccio said.
‘The objector to everything’
When Stanton resigned from the council and DiCiccio wanted to come back in 2009, Gordon said they asked him if he would be “not be as disruptive.”
“Many of us were misled or mistaken by his promises or his words,” Gordon said.
Bill Scheel, a political consultant who works mostly with Democrats and was then Gordon’s chief of staff, said the council dynamic changed almost immediately when DiCiccio returned. The council members had differing viewpoints before that, he said, but “DiCiccio was kind of the spark to make it all more fiery.”
Scheel said DiCiccio made council meetings “unbearable” by “being disagreeable just to be disagreeable.” He would go line by line down the agenda, Scheel said, including the consent items that normally don’t face much opposition, and ask questions of staff that easily could have been asked before the meeting.
He called him a “disruptor.”
Gordon, a Democrat, said he was always blindsided by DiCiccio, always feeling like it “was an ambush.”
“It was like a family, but you had this one member of the family that didn’t want to be part of the family,” Gordon said.
DiCiccio said that much of him taking people off guard comes down to timing, where sometimes he is still researching an issue when he gets to a council meeting. While some public officials like to hammer things out outside of public view, DiCiccio said he believes that amounts to “group think.”
He likes independent thinkers, he said, and independent views.
The advent of social media allowed DiCiccio to make his partisan platform clear. He quickly gathered a following of tens of thousands of people with his blunt posts, mostly about national politics.
In 2017, he deleted social media posts after he was accused of minimizing racism shortly after the violence at a white nationalist and neo-Nazi protest in Charlottesville, Virginia.
DiCiccio had posted on Twitter and Facebook a photo of a man with his arms stretched out in a nonchalant pose with a caption that said, “Good morning America! What are we offended by, today?”
His post went up the same morning as a memorial service was held for Heather Heyer, who was killed by a driver who mowed down anti-racist protesters.
DiCiccio soon deleted the meme and posted a statement saying it was intended as a joke.
He’s not one to shy away from controversial issues.
In 2018, DiCiccio stepped in when then-mayor Stanton led the way in replacing members of the Board of Adjustment, which hears city zoning appeals. Stanton had recommended their replacement shortly after questionable practices on medical marijuana dispensary zoning appeals cases had been raised. DiCiccio was connected to those involved: Layla Ressler, for example, was his campaign fundraiser the year prior.
DiCiccio sued the city over the decision on the board, and then subpoenaed interim Mayor Thelda Williams and Councilmembers Debra Stark and Laura Pastor to try to get information about it. That took his fellow council members off guard at the time.
Throughout his tenure, he’s been criticized for being beholden to the development community. His opponent in the 2017 council race, Kevin Patterson, said at the time that DiCiccio was part of the “pay to play” culture at City Hall. His other opponent, Zofia Rawner, said at the time that it “appears that (developers) do have an undue influence over him.”
DiCiccio dismisses those claims.
His most recent target has been antipolice violence protesters at public meetings. When they call police murderers and racists, DiCiccio insults them right back and tells Mayor Kate Gallego to shut them down.
As the Department of Justice investigates Phoenix’s policing practices, including use of force and discriminatory practices, DiCiccio is worried more about what anti-police rhetoric is doing to the department. He said the city may have a crisis on its hands as more police retire early and fewer apply, which he believes will cause neighborhoods to be come less safe.
The latest time DiCiccio was in the headlines was for his public criticism of Maricopa County Sheriff ’s Office for its transport service for NFL players. This was “par for the course,” Scheel said, in DiCiccio just trying to pick a fight or make a point.
Chuck Coughlin, a political consultant who lives in Arcadia, said that he has watched DiCiccio move into a role of “being the objector to everything.”
“It has really almost gone steroidal,” he said. “If he is for something, it is because the rest of the council is against it.”
DiCiccio dismissed Coughlin’s criticisms, saying that they have a long history of conflicts.
DiCiccio admits he sometimes says things in council meetings just to make a point, not to gain try to gain consensus. He admits he doesn’t do it “in the nicest way, sometimes.”
“You have to make people feel uncomfortable about their votes,” he said, saying that he believes that it pushes them to explain themselves.
Some see the merits in DiCiccio’s style. Craig Tribken, now a leader of
Central Arizona Shelter Services who was a city councilman alongside DiCiccio in the 1990s, said he probably disagrees with him on 98% of issues, but he believes DiCiccio is a “worthy person to have on the council.”
“He’s got a good mind,” Tribken said. “While I disagree with him on most things, he can be a valuable contributor when he chooses to be.”
Nick Wood, a zoning attorney who has worked with DiCiccio since his first council days, said he is a “honest, sometimes brutally so,” but you always know where he is coming from.
But over time, Williams said, DiCiccio isolated himself on the dais.
“People don’t like to feel like they are being attacked for what they think,” she said. “And sometimes he comes across in attack mode. I’m not even sure he knows he does it.”
Coughlin said council members need to have personal relationships and an ability to broker with people to make it work.
“With the viciousness of his attacks, it became impossible for him to be a part of that,” he said. “Including his attacks on fellow council members.”
‘He succeeded in a dramatic fashion’
DiCiccio admits he has burned bridges. But he said that if people see him as more of a disruptor than a consensus builder, they are getting it wrong.
“You have this public persona, but people don’t realize all of the stuff you do behind the scenes,” he said.
DiCiccio said for a long time he was able to build consensus among his colleagues and win votes.
Republican Councilmember Jim Waring, who has served alongside DiCiccio for his last three terms, said he believes what you see is DiCiccio taking issues “very seriously.”
“Frankly, I have deep respect for that,” he said.
He said he understands that some people disagree with DiCiccio’s approach, but he has done a lot to benefit taxpayers and help the city, including streamlining antiquated processes, and making Phoenix more business friendly.
“I would argue he succeeded in a dramatic fashion,” Waring said.
Top of his accomplishments, DiCiccio says, are those that helped businesses, the budget and protected taxpayers.
He created and chaired a committee to streamline building permits and inspections, which ultimately created what he calls the “best in nation model for job creation.” This includes online applications, 24-hour permitting and inspections and five-day site plan approval.
He touts economic deals he helped foster, such as helping create the Phoenix-Mexico Trade office in Mexico City.
Alongside Williams, he advocated for more transparent budgeting, leading to a much more detailed line-item budget for the public.
He opposed most tax and water rate increases during his tenure. In 2016, for example, he voted against the city’s first property tax hike in 21 years.
Tribken said DiCiccio probably knows the budget better than anyone.
His reasoning for opposing new taxes are sometimes unconventional.
In 2010, DiCiccio opposed creating a food tax to fill looming budget shortages due to the Great Recession. City employees said the tax would help cover a more than $277 million shortfall in the budget.
He thought the tax placed undue burden on low-income families already struggling to pay for buy groceries. Supporters said it was needed to avoid layoffs.
It was meant to be a temporary tax, but even shortly after it passed DiCiccio wanted it gone. He gives the eventual elimination of the tax in 2015 as an example of when he was able to build council consensus.
He caught then-Councilmember Michael Nowakowski on the way out of an event at the Phoenix Country Club and convinced him it was time for the tax to go. Nowakowski said that hearing DiCiccio’s reasoning — that it was hurting the city’s lowest-income residents the most — convinced him to go along with it.
Nowakowski said if you listen to DiCiccio’s reasoning, you can understand him more.
Tribken said part of why he believes DiCiccio has held onto his district so long is that he advocates for his neighborhoods well. When the Adobe golf course was threatened by development and the neighborhood was trying to save the course, for example, DiCiccio said he spent 2 1/2 years negotiating with the developer to make sure the course remained.
Wood said one of DiCiccio’s successes that sticks out to him was his work helping find compromise on the expansion of the Biltmore resort in 2009. It was extremely controversial for the neighborhood, but DiCiccio encouraged his team to go over the issues one by one with neighborhood leaders to find solutions.
“We started with about 300 people opposing and ended up going to council with zero opposition,” Wood said. “I credit his stewardship and leadership with that.”
It hasn’t been all wins for DiCiccio. DiCiccio’s efforts to kill light rail and pay down pension debt culminated in 2019 when he advocated for Proposition 105, which would have killed the South Phoenix light rail extension, and bankrolled Proposition 106, which would have committed the city to paying down pension debt faster.
Both efforts failed, a blow to two issues he had pushed for decades.
Williams said that DiCiccio’s attitude and ability to build consensus changed about four years ago.
Tribken said DiCiccio has “evolved” in the 30 years he has known him. He’s less patient, less likely to care what his colleagues think of him, and more inclined to speak out, Tribken said.
DiCiccio said he could often get Williams and Nowakowski to go along with him. With both of them now off the council, he said, he has had to change his strategy.
With DiCiccio unable to get five votes on the council, Tribken said, “it has freed himself to express himself not just openly but with a certain abruptness, which can rub various people wrong.”
Toss-up district up in the air
Even though it’s a nonpartisan election, the candidate for DiCiccio’s seat will need to appeal to a split electorate of more Democrats and Independents than Republicans.
Those interested in the seat so far — besides Robinson, Sanchez and Stone — are Murphy Bannerman, Joan Greene, Nick Griemsmann and Kenneth Smith.
Waring said the district is not as “rock solid Republican,” as it was.
“It’s going to take a lot of money and effort to win it,” he said.
Scheel said he believes that Ahwatukee is a “Democratic stronghold” now, and with everything more partisan, he doesn’t believe DiCiccio could have won another term.
DiCiccio said he believes his district is purple and blue. He thinks Stone, a far-right Republican, can win it because he has been working with neighborhood groups, and he thinks that is going to be key.
Coughlin said that the opening is a huge opportunity for the city, to bring the capital of that district back into the city after he believes DiCiccio shut it off by isolating people.
“I am hopeful for a candidate that can bring people together, and act as a source of civic unity,” Coughlin said.