Ashdod’s candidate coach

At the age of 80, legendary seven-term mayor Zvi Zilker is once again running for office.

By TAL ARIEL AMIR
Zvi Zilker Ashdod mayor candidate 521 (photo credit: Courtesy)
Zvi Zilker Ashdod mayor candidate 521
(photo credit: Courtesy)
A thick book about the history of Israel lies on the antique wooden desk in Zvi Zilker’s office. Zilker, who served as mayor of Ashdod for 34 years, believes that this book correctly summarizes the nature of the mayoral race, which is scheduled to take place in October.
He has not been reading the stories about the founding of the state or experiences from the last 65 years. Rather, he is focusing on four pages that were specially added at the behest of the Ashdod Municipality before the book was distributed to high-school students, in which his name is glaringly absent from the city’s extensive history after 1969.
“A parent of two students showed me the book,” he says with an amused look on his face. “When I saw the two thick books in his hands, I was worried for a second that he was giving them to me as a present. I don’t even have room in my home for a notebook! But then he showed me that in the volume printed in 2010 I am listed as the former mayor, but in the most recent printing of the book, my name is absent. They censored me out. I have no doubt that this is connected to the upcoming election.”
In a recent interview, he says it is “highly unlikely” that this was simply an innocent mistake.
“There has been a series of improper actions against me,” he says. “This is aggressive behavior, and no one has the right to erase my name from the history of the city. Students have the right to know who the mayor of their city was for so many years.”
Although he recently turned 80, he is once again vying for the position of mayor five years after he lost to Yehiel Lasri. Zilker will be the oldest candidate in the upcoming election.
But from Zilker’s point of view, his age is a non-issue.
After spending five years in the opposition, he is more energetic than ever. Besides the heated debates in which he has participated at election headquarters, in recent years he has been coaching numerous individuals interested in running for mayor, including candidates in Lod, Hadera, Kiryat Ono and Gan Yavne. The extensive mileage he has covered has even attracted the attention of former MK Ophir Pines-Paz, who asked him this week to join the steering committee for the new mayoral training program at Tel Aviv University.
“I am happy that mayors view me as the right person for this job,” Zilker says proudly. “I’ll never forget the first time a mayoral candidate turned to me in search of campaign ideas. This was in the 1970s. I had only been mayor for one term when a young man named Shlomo Lahat, also known as ‘Chich,’ told me that he was running for mayor of Tel Aviv. He came to see me in Ashdod and asked me for advice on what would help him get elected. In those days, there were no campaign staff and advisers like there are today. I told Chich to print his campaign slogan on T-shirts and plastic bags and his picture on boxes of matches. He won the election, and since then we’ve remained friends.”
What’s your secret? Why do so many mayoral candidates seek out your advice? First of all, I’m a nice guy. And everyone knows that I work hard and have lots of experience. I served as mayor of Ashdod for seven terms, during which time the city developed beautifully. Candidates ask me how I did this.
Do you have some sort of formula that you follow? It’s important to remain attentive to the public’s needs and to think outside of the box. I am proud to say that this is how I operated as mayor of Ashdod. I was the first one to build bike paths and absorb new immigrants.
I appointed an adviser to promote women’s issues well before it became mandatory by law. I have learned a tremendous amount from observing administrations in other countries, and am not embarrassed to say that I copied from them quite a bit.
Did any of the candidates return to you for more advice after they were elected? No. Most people feel that once they are elected, they know everything they need to. I have no idea if they actually followed my advice.
Does your age deter the candidates? Do they worry that your advice is a little outdated? Apparently not, since more people keep approaching me. I’m always thinking about the future, and am not preoccupied with the past. For the upcoming election, I’ve formed a list that is made up of young people – all of them are under 50. I will be their mentor this time. I will bequeath my knowledge to them.”
You haven’t even been elected, and you’re already concerned that this will be your last term? There’s no doubt that my feet are firmly planted on the ground. If I’m elected, I would end my term at the age of 85. I have no idea how I’ll be feeling by then.
However, there is a precedent for people older than myself who are still actively serving in the public sector.
SINCE 1974, Zilker has been living in the same apartment in the Dalet neighborhood. At the entrance of the building, there is a clearly visible sign that says that Zvi, the engineer, and Chana Zilker live there.
“I’m very proud of my engineering degree. It appears on my stationery, too,” he says. “I studied very hard to receive my degree, and it has helped me over the years.
I am proud to be an engineer, and I don’t like seeing my name in writing without my title next to it. I view myself as an engineer.”
The colorful wooden sign is in stark contrast to the modest home, which looks like it’s straight out of the 1980s. There are big, heavy couches, wooden furniture, and oil paintings that were painted by his wife. As Zilker stares up at the large portrait hanging above his desk, he fills with rage.
“Pictures of all former mayors hang in the municipality building, including mine,” he says. “The nameplate underneath my picture fell down about six months ago, and no one has bothered to put up a new one. I joked about this, saying that now people will ask, ‘Who is that? He looks familiar.’ “And then a week ago, I was participating in a municipal building committee meeting and I asked one of the senior city officials when they would put a new plate with my name on it under the picture, and he said that until I leave municipality, they will not put up a new sign. So I guess they’re not going to put up a new nameplate. I’m tired of banging my head against a brick wall. And I will not stoop to their level. It’s childish and petty.”
In a recent response statement, the Ashdod Municipality wrote: “We apologize, but information regarding the fallen sign bearing the name of Mr.
Zilker was brought to our attention only a few days ago. We have already instructed the appropriate party to remedy the matter. Regarding the omission of the former mayor’s name from the newly published book, this was an honest mistake. The City of Ashdod regrets that this occurred and hopes that similar incidents will not occur again in the future.”
Zilker has not had an easy time in the opposition.
After being mayor for three decades, he was exiled to a small office above the cafeteria, with no phone or computer. After each meeting with members of his party, his clothes would reek of food. Very quickly he decided to work from home.
It is hard not to compare him to the late Teddy Kollek, who ran for a seventh term as mayor of Jerusalem at the age of 82, and lost. But Zilker asserts that Kollek’s loss does not deter him.
“The city of Ashdod is the most important thing in my life, and I want to keep doing my part as long as I can,” he says. “If I don’t run, I will be letting down a large number of Ashdod residents, and mainly myself. Yes, it’s hard to ignore my age, but I don’t feel, look or think like a regular 80-year-old. That’s why I’m making myself more visible than before. Ashdod residents didn’t see much of me over the last five years. They need to know that I am alive and kicking just like I was 20 years ago.
My age does not limit my ability. On the contrary, in fact – the city can benefit from my experience.”
After so many years, though, wouldn’t he prefer to spend time with loved ones rather than return to city hall? “I wouldn’t be running if it weren’t for Ashdod’s negative immigration rate, and the deterioration in the education and welfare sectors,” he says. “The truth is that at the beginning I thought I’d remain in the opposition for two years and then retire, but the people of Ashdod persuaded me to change my mind. I decided that I would try again to do what I did for seven terms. I recently ordered a number of polls, according to which the gap between me and the current mayor is small.”
Asked about the toll that being mayor may take on his family life, he stresses that he has never neglected his family, and that “being an active member of the community also gives me great pleasure.”
Although he never brought his children to school or attended a parent-teacher conference, he says, “my children know that I love them and understand my involvement in the public sector.”
ZILKER WAS born in Germany and made aliya when he was 18 months old. He grew up in Jerusalem, and after his military service in the Israel Air Force, he studied civil engineering at the Technion-Israel Institute of Technology, completing a master’s degree in systems engineering. He began his public service in 1962 when, at the age of 29, he won a tender and became the official engineer of the Beit Shemesh Local Council. The mayor of Beit Shemesh was the same age as Zilker is today.
“Unlike me, he was very set in his ways,” Zilker laughs.
“In preparation of a visit by president Yitzhak Ben-Zvi, I suggested that we replace 11 street lights on the main road with a new technology called neon. The mayor refused, saying that he was very conservative and there was no need. I felt stuck. His inflexibility drove me nuts, so I started looking for a new job. When a tender for Ashdod local council engineer was published in 1966, I applied for the position and won. I knew that a town with a power station and a port had a lot of potential and would one day grow into a city – and that’s exactly what happened.”
Zilker decided to run for mayor of Ashdod in 1969.
“The people running the municipality had good intentions, but they were not very professional. I wanted to be the one setting policy and not just carrying it out,” he says. “I put my doctoral studies on hold and began campaigning. I promised Ashdod residents a higher quality of life and improved service. And I won the election. My first term was extremely hard. Mapai’s influence was still strong, and I was a Herut man. They did everything possible to restrict my power.” Despite the difficulties, he was elected for a second term, and then lost in the election of 1983. Ashdod residents were ready for someone new.
Was he disappointed? “Twice I lost elections, and I reacted to both losses in the exact same way,” he recalls. “The first day is like a day of mourning. The second day is like the day after the seven-day shiva mourning period. The third is like the shloshim, the month of mourning, and the fourth is like the end of the year of mourning. By the fifth day, I go back to work as usual.”
About a month after the election, he was appointed director-general of the Communications Ministry, and after that director of the Welfare and Social Services Ministry, when Moshe Katsav was the minister. When then-prime minister Menachem Begin asked him to run for mayor of Ashdod again, Zilker agreed.
“I told Katsav that I had to leave my position, because a request from Begin was tantamount to an order,” he says. “Katsav did not receive this announcement well.
In fact, he was quite angry. So I left and began working for the Association of Contractors and Builders in Israel, and at the same time began preparing my election campaign.”
In 1989, Zilker was elected again and served four consecutive terms, until he lost in 2008 to Lasri. In contrast to his previous loss, this time he decided to remain in the opposition and wait for the 2013 election.
The rift between him and Lasri is well-known. They converse with each other only at council meetings.
When they pass each other in the corridors of the municipality building, neither acknowledges the other.
About a year after Zilker lost the mayoral race, he received a tempting offer from Mifam, a branch of the Interior Ministry that strives to improve the performance of local authorities and the professional level of its employees. Initially it asked him to guide new members on the Kiryat Ono Local Council. Later, he moved to Lod and assisted the committee chairman, Brig.-Gen. (res.) Ilan Harari.
“This request came straight from the Interior Ministry, and of course I complied,” Zilker says. “I also met with the treasurer and a number of other council leaders, and helped them erect a new haredi neighborhood and other projects according to a clearly set schedule.
I brought them entrepreneurs and suggested that they attract industry and large companies to the area by offering low municipal property taxes [arnona]. I am currently promoting a waste-water treatment plant in Hadera. I consider myself a project promoter, but the Interior Ministry calls it ‘guidance for mayors.’” Still, he doesn’t just help promote projects. Since the days when he and Lahat were spring chickens, dozens of mayoral candidates have asked him for advice.
“Being the mayor of a city is one of the hardest jobs in the world,” Zilker claims. “You’re always trying to make the public like you, which is an impossible task.
It’s like you always have a dagger hanging over your head.”
He recalls that “when I first came into office, I went to former Ashkelon mayor Rehavia Adivi and former Holon mayor Pinhas Eylon for advice. Adivi told me that if I wanted to be in control, I needed to be involved with the city’s finances and personnel. Instead, I chose to focus on education and engineering. To every candidate who comes to me for advice, I say: You need to choose the areas that are close to your heart.”
Recently, he says, former Labor MK Yoram Marciano approached him. “He was debating whether to run for mayor of Lod, in light of the confrontation he had with security guards [at Herzliya’s Rio nightclub in 2007] and the other incidents with the police. He was concerned that the publicity over these incidents would harm him, but I could tell that he really and truly loves his city. I told him that if he believes in himself, he should not hesitate.”
Marciano was not the only one who had hesitations.
Dror Aharon of Gan Yavne also came to Zilker to get advice on whether running for mayor was the right choice for him.
“Aharon is a friend of my son, and he came to consult with me. His hesitations reminded me of how I was when I was just starting out. If someone is considering running for mayor, that’s a sign that he wants to be one,” says Zilker.
“I suggested that he get to know the various population groups in his city, such as taxi drivers. I gave this same advice to Itzik Rochberger of Ramat Hasharon. I told him that he should show his face in public as often as possible and to hold as many parlor meetings in people’s homes as possible. I remember that Rochberger wanted to know if he should engage in a smear campaign against his opponent, and I recommended that he not do so.”
Regarding personal and family life, he says he always tells candidates who come to consult him that “they will spend many hours away from their family and friends.” However, he says, “I have yet to come across someone who regrets going into politics for this reason.”
Asked if anyone has spoken to him about their fears of being investigated by the police – especially considering that dozens of mayors have recently been accused of criminal activity, mostly involving bribery – he responds in the negative.
“When you are just starting out, you never think that this could happen to you. And you certainly wouldn’t seek advice from someone about how to cheat the system without getting caught,” he says. “I’m not denying that there have been a number of such cases recently. Sometimes people make mistakes when they are trying to weave their way through bureaucratic tangles. In many cases, mayors are wrongly accused.
I suggest that people wait until the court has reached a decision. If a mayor is convicted, then his place is evidently not in public service.”
Translated by Hannah Hochner.