From the outside, Palmer sells itself as a small Alaskan town with family values and pride in our pioneer spirit. From the inside, it looks more like a cautionary tale – a shameful loop of backroom behavior and bureaucratic failures that would appear more at home in a big‑city political scandal.

Let’s be clear: this reputation is earned.

Over the last decade, Palmer’s City Hall has lurched from one self‑inflicted wound to another: Open Meetings Act violations, quorum‑dodging on Facebook, ethics complaints, police conflicts, severance payouts, resignations under investigation, disenchanted council members just giving up.

And now, a conveniently timed “emergency” (FAA compliance, fair market value, liquor license, what’s next?) that threatens a voter‑approved, revenue‑producing municipal golf course – without a public conversation or clear paper trail to justify it. And if you think this is just hot air, or a single author’s extreme opinion, please watch the recorded city council meetings and decide for yourself; November 4, 2025 is a good place to start.

This is not by chance or bad luck. It is a pattern.

Start with the 2021 council recall – the infamous “Facebook Quorum.” Multiple council members were found to have likely violated Alaska’s Open Meetings Act by discussing city business in a private Facebook group while constituting a quorum. That wasn’t a technical error. That was a failure to understand and respect well-known rules about open government. Voters quickly responded by removing three sitting council members in a special election. That should have been a reset moment for Palmer.

It wasn’t.

Fast forward to 2024 and the Stephen Jellie disaster. Fifty‑three days. That’s how long Palmer’s hand‑picked city manager lasted before defacing City Hall. In that short span, police emails were intercepted, the police chief was placed on leave, the city attorney warned of “imminent” legal exposure, and the community was left stunned. And the reward for this chaos? A $75,000 payout on the way out the door. Any private‑sector board would call that malpractice. Palmer called it governance.

Then there’s the revolving door of resignations and investigations. A long-term city manager retires amid scrutiny of the Open Meetings Act. A multi‑term council member resigns after a DUI plea and attempted to steer public funds toward investigating critics. Another council member walks away citing accountability concerns. A mayor hires outside legal counsel for a severance agreement without full council approval, sparking recall efforts. None of this is ancient history. This is recent. This is ongoing. This is home.

Against that backdrop, we are now told – urgently, dramatically – that the Palmer Municipal Golf Course contract can’t be signed because of whatever issue they’ve made up now. Thirty‑five years of successful operation. Decades of FAA‑authorized use. No runway extension plans. No documented FAA demand. No liquor license discrepancies. No clear memo in the public record explaining why now is an emergency.

Forgive the public for not believing this story.

What residents are watching is not “hard work” by an unelected public servant with our city’s best interest at heart – it’s narrative manipulation. A crisis constructed at every turn to force irreversible land‑use decisions. That is not transparent governance. That is process abuse.

It all just reeks of the same behavior Palmer has seen before: decisions driven by staff, papered over after the fact, zero transparency, and everything defended with vague, evasive talking points instead of evidence and accountability. It’s a stunt designed to distract us with manufactured “regulatory issues” and “emergencies” while the real decisions are discussed and made behind closed doors, out of earshot, blocked from the public eye. What a sham.

Here’s the part city hall seems to forget: Palmer residents are not unsophisticated. We read agenda packets. We request emails. We show up to council meetings. We understand who works for whom.

The mayor and council are elected by the people. The city manager works at their pleasure. And the people are watching a community asset – approved by voters, bonded by the city, and generating real revenue – being treated like a nuisance tenant instead of a public success. And I’ll be damned if any of us can figure out why.

Palmer should be embarrassed. Heck, we are embarrassed. Not because residents are speaking up – but because they have to. Again. And yet again.

A town this small shouldn’t have this long of a rap sheet. A mayor and council chastened by close elections, recalls and resignations should not be repeating the same mistakes. And a city manager operating under this history should remember who they work for and be putting forward facts, instead of providing half-truths concocted behind closed doors for Lord knows what purpose.

This community deserves leadership, not theater. Process, not disinformation. And a mayor and council members that understand that working for your constituents with uncompromising transparency isn’t optional – it’s the job and minimum requirement.

Palmer can do better. But first, we must stop accepting dysfunction as the status quo. If the mayor and council have forgotten who they represent, the voters are more than happy to remind them.

Chris Sant is a Mat-Su Valley resident and small-business owner with a professional background in water and wastewater operations. He writes as a local resident concerned with transparency, public land stewardship, and community accountability.