Sarah Haas,  Central City.   At 6 p.m. on Wednesday, January 2, 2018, Central City’s historic Gold Coin Saloon was predictably empty. The holidays were over, the New Year had come, and if ever there was a night to stay in and pour your own drink, this was it. But at 6:10 p.m. local folks began to trickle in, ordering $2 beers and $4 well drinks. As is typical in a small town, everyone seemed to know one another, recounting what they got for Christmas and imagining what 2019 had in store. Soon though, the conversation turned to politics, specifically to the imminent inauguration of the new mayor, which was set to take place in 20 minutes, just up the street at City Hall. The drinks had been timed perfectly so they’d all be right on time to see the swearing-in of the new boss, their old friend, Jeremy Fey.

In Central City, council meetings are still somewhat of a town event where, in a town of only 700, docket items have a way of turning the personal into the political. The 2017 year-in-review session, led by then Mayor Kathryn Heider, was celebration enough to fill the room, and the 2018 meeting about the too-bright-lights at the Grand Z Casino packed the chambers to capacity.

At this, the first meeting of 2019, the crowd was overflowing. There was a line for the elevator.

Once one was lucky enough to get a lift, the doors would open to reveal the crowd, so dense one had to shimmy their way in. It felt like just the right sort of occasion for such a little dance, the room alive with the buzz of a “where-were-you-when” sort of event. In part this was conjured by the buffet, the smell of pulled pork and roasted beef wafting through the council chambers. Fey’s brother and torch bearer of Barry Fey’s famed music production company, Tyler Fey, was found hovering over the food, wondering which, if any, of the fare was kosher, the town’s Christmas decorations still glowing outside the window.

Meanwhile, the mayor elect paced at the front of the room, not nervously, but eagerly, as if in the next ten minutes he’d have enough time to wear paths throughout the council chambers, ones that would make his position there feel as familiar as it did right.

Fey has only lived in Central City for two going on three years, living with his wife, daughter, and baby-to-be in a humble house on the hill, but already he’s walked just about every square foot of town, paving trails along his routes. He’s been everywhere, knows everyone’s names, and everyone knows him. Some might say Fey’s been politicking, although to read the room on the night of his inauguration it seems better to describe his ways as genuine statesmanship. As exciting (or controversial) as his ideas have been and continue to be, they’ve been sincere.

Because on walk after walk through Central City’s streets, Fey’s noticed the potential everyone else had either forgotten or taken for granted. Once a building, or in Central City’s case a row of buildings, has been vacant for so long, it’s natural to stop imagining that it has been, or could be, any other way. Fey, though, saw only the town’s opportunity: to become a historic destination, a thriving town, an arts hub and a cultural center.

It’s a vision he touted all the way to a 127-107 victory in 2018’s mayoral election. With just 500 registered voters, turn-out was high at 46 percent, rivaling the historically high national turn-out of 47 percent. Which is to say that the seat of Mayor seemed to matter to the citizens of Central City, so much so that it nearly split a town down the middle, with just 20 people, only 16 percent, responsible for the changing of the guard. There’s no way to know why Fey won, only that now that he has, the room and the city carry the energy of change: the nerves, the excitement, and notably, the hope.

So, Fey spent 10 minutes pacing and shaking hands until the judge finally arrived 10 minutes late, donning a candy cane tie under his black robe.

Swiftly, he swore in the new mayor, rousing a cheer from the crowd. When Mayor Fey was handed the mayoral gavel (sent with well wishes from ex-Mayor Kathryn Heider who could not attend) he was quick to raise it over his head and let out a long holler, “woooooo!” full of an unbridled excitement that’s hard not to appreciate, no matter who you voted for.

By 7 p.m. Mayor Fey had assumed his rightful spot at the center of the council table. To his left were two new aldermen, Jack Hidahl and Jackie Mitchell, and with three out of 5 of the council new to the job, there was a roughness to the meeting as Mayor Fey wiggled around inside of a role he’d hitherto only imagined. But he learned quickly and by the end, Mayor Fey was getting the hang of it, the right words coming more naturally, the protocol more closely followed, the good-natured crowd offering encouragement all along the way. They know his fluency was imminent and seemed eager to keep their focus on what Mayor Fey can really do.

After the meeting Mayor Fey whisked off to a celebratory soiree and everyone in town was invited. There was local food and world-class musicians and a mirrored room that sparkled with excitement. Mayor Fey didn’t give a speech, preferring instead to do as he’s always done and be one among the people, one among the crowd, talking to everyone about ideas big and small.

The next morning, he had a moment to breathe and so took a minute to reflect: “Remember when we first spoke [in 2017 for a story about Central Jazz] and it came to me that I was perhaps in the midst of a calling? Well last night was validation.”

“I feel blessed and honored that my neighbors believe in me and my vision for the future of Central. I look forward to working with my fellow alderman and city staff on actualizing the vision and other potentials of this great city.”

“And I am thankful for Kathy Heider, and all past mayors and city leadership for maintaining the unique ethos and paving the way.”