The scandal of the century rocks Oro Valley

When I cast my peepers on the file I knew this case was right up my arroyo.

Some punks had been vandalizing recall campaign signs up in Oro Valley, where a political piffle match had escalated into a Three Stooges slap-fest. I parked my carcass at a java hut on Oracle and quizzed a white-haired retiree who home-brewed Metamucil for fun.

“When did Oro Valley have its last recall?”

“There was a recall in 2013. And before that we had recall elections in 2001 and 2008.”

“Is there something in the stucco that makes people ...”

“I’m not done. We had recalls in ’93, ’94 and ’95, too.”

“One every year?” I asked. “That’s three in a row!”

“And one in 2011. That was a doozy. Not much else to do up here. Oh, yeah. I forgot the one in 1999. Up for a game of bridge?”

In this latest case the hotheads started flinging gravel at each other about a year ago.

When the cast of “Fargo” — Mayor Satish Hiremath and council members Lou Waters, Joe Hornat and Mary Snider — were running for office they promised God’s Gotham a community center.

They found Humberto Lopez’s caddyshack for sale and started discussing a deal to nab the Hilton in June 2014. Public debate took place at a council meeting the first week in December. The mayor and council of Lake Wobegon With Saguaros then voted 4-3 to buy El Conquistador Country Club for a sweet million and to increase the sales tax by a half-cent. The following week the elves on the council and Mayor Santa approved the deal.

What did the scamps get for their million? A 65,000-square-foot country club, a cafe and a restaurant sitting on top of a 324-acre spread with swimming pools, 21 tennis courts, 45 holes of golf and other goodies.

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The imps finalized the purchase in May and a geriatric jihad followed. You’d think the council had voted to name it The Benghazi Recreation Center. The town went lynch-mob looney.

Here’s the kicker, chump. No laws were broken. But that didn’t amount to a hill of beans to the recall gang. The gray panthers didn’t like the way that no laws were broken.

Who names these groups? Garrison Keillor? “Teed Off Over Tax Hikes” filed petitions asking for a voter referendum on the purchase. The move was disqualified because of a paperwork error.

“We should have studied the past 327 citizen ballot initiatives better,” my retiree source admitted.

Hiremath, feeling the heat, held public study sessions at which he apologized, arguing that two other buyers were breathing down Humberto’s neck, and the choice was take it or leave it. They took it. The Oro Valley Chamber of Commerce board supported the half-cent sales tax to pay for the upkeep and the upgrade.

Under the nom de guerre “Oro Valley Citizens for Open Government,” a cabal of curmudgeons initiated the recall. Pat Straney, a retired GM executive, was gunning to bump off Hiremath. Shirl Lamonna, one of county supervisor Ally Miller’s molls, was sniping after Snider’s council seat. Steve Didio and Ryan Hartung were the third and fourth hoarse men of the Oro Valley Apocalypse.

Joe Winfield and Doug Burke filed candidate petitions to join the fun because it beats watching Lawrence Welk on PBS. Rumors began circulating among the casserole set that sinister forces put Winfield and Burke up to running to split the recall vote. On the grassy knoll. With the help of French assassins from Manchuria. A lawsuit was filed by Don Bristow, a council race loser, to bump the two off the ballot, claiming their petitions stank. A judge dismissed the suit. Then Winfield quit. He didn’t want to be perceived as a spoiler.

(For a more detailed take on this Petticoat Junction kerfuffle see #FirstWorldProblems.)

I never nabbed the hooligans messing with the signs, signs debating whether dentist Hiremath was the Antichrist, or his council the satanic minions named in Revelations.

All I know is Hiltongate is the scandal of the century among some in the Sansabelt set, second only to the 19-cent price hike for Viagra in 2013 that provoked a riot on Aisle 3.

As I left the O.V., Mayor Hiremath proudly announced the University of Arizona would be opening a veterinary school there. Driving down Skyline toward my next case I thought, “How timely. Just what the place needs. A distemper clinic.”