There’s always something alluring to the idea of the “small town” in the American imagination: a place of simplicity, a bulwark against the complications of city living, or a microcosm for America itself. Moreover, small-town politics can embody the zeitgeist of nationwide American politics. It’s something I’ve been familiar with my whole life: living a quick walk from the Victorian era town hall, volunteering in the town courthouse for a summer, and hearing secondhand the drama between village trustees and the mayor from my mom. While sometimes boring, I got a kick out of hearing some of the malarkey that comes with living and working in the village of Sea Cliff.
Sea Cliff is the epitome of small-town living. A unique enclave amidst the landscape of Levittowns and highways on Long Island, it was originally founded as a German Methodist summer campground. Marketed as a brisk getaway from the hustle and bustle of turn-of-the century New York City, it was a literal shining city on a hill overlooking the Long Island Sound. I can’t stress enough how that era has shaped my hometown. Upkeep of Victorian-era buildings, maintaining a family-friendly reputation, rallying against housing developments, and stern independence from other municipalities. It’s the Jeffersonian dream: a self sufficient, proud, independent village that prides itself on said independence. Life is all about “Keeping Sea Cliff Weird.”
Yet, Sea Cliff’s admirable tenacity runs only skin-deep. The village only gets more expensive the more yuppie, Brooklynite families move in. Its roads are more packed as its nineteenth-century planning stretches to accommodate Long Island’s car culture. It becomes ever less diverse and less weird. Economic disparity joins the list alongside a long-standing lack of racial diversity. It’s an impasse between old and new. It can be seen in the transition of businesses in the last five years: the old hardware store turned into a beauty parlour, three new slick coffee shops in place of a single café, and the increasing presence of RXR real estate “luxury” developments surrounding the village. Sea Cliff’s position is similar to many across the country, finding itself perpetually shifting amidst the political shocks of an insecure nation. What’s passed down from this national political zeitgeist that champions vigilantes and the destruction of bureaucracy — a philosophy that fueled the January 6 riots — is the encouragement to localized action. If local politics reflects that of the nation, Sea Cliff is no different in its struggle for equilibrium. If there’s one flaw in the ideology of the small town, it is its resistance to change, and no better example could be found than that of local business owner Robert Ehrlich and his recent coup d’état.
On the morning of Monday, March 10, Ehrlich and three colleagues walked into Village Hall and pronounced themselves the new governing body of Sea Cliff, declaring that every current village employee was fired. These proclamations arrive nearly a week before the Village’s mayoral elections, which Ehrlich has already proclaimed “fully rigged and meaningless.” After an hourlong standoff with municipal staff and a half dozen police officers, Ehrlich and company were escorted out of village hall by county police.
As a follow-up to an official village statement, Ehrlich replied in a now-deleted Facebook post, “We have a new entity,” declaring an end to “this racist antisemitic group that wishes to control every aspect of our lives and our businesses. With zero experience and success in their lives except to maintain phony made up power. (sic)” In an interview with the Long Island Herald, Ehrlich stated he had accrued 1,800 signatures to dissolve the Village government (supposedly in accordance with the NYS Citizens Empowerment Act) and had been invited to the White House. Additionally, Ehrlich stated, “I’m interpreting the law any way I want, the way Trump would interpret laws as he sees fit… It’s called trickledown politics, which is what we’re doing.”
Robert Ehrlich may be Sea Cliff’s embodiment of Trump. A “rags-to-riches” story of his establishment of Pirate Brands (of Pirate’s Booty fame), based in Sea Cliff, made him an amiable example of smalltown success. However, after the expansion of Pirate Brands, Ehrlich sued his co-founder, Mike Repole, for 195 million USD, claiming that Repole attacked his “self-confidence and entrepreneurial spirit,” despite making an estimated 70 million USD from Pirate Brands alongside him.
It was just “Rob being Rob,” Repole said. “You would think that someone who made over 70 million USD would be very happy.”
Since 2015, while his village properties remained dormant and his business thriving, Ehrlich became increasingly active in politics, protesting the Village’s alleged lack of transparency and corruption. Recently, however, he was only able to cite inadequate outdoor seating and “limits on creativity” as the standing government’s current flaws. As noted by colleagues like Repole, Ehrlich may have a troubled relationship with facts; in a deleted post by Ehrlich, the businessman claimed he had met with New York Governor Kathy Hochul and had been given the “go-ahead” for his coup d’état plan. According to the Governor’s office, this meeting never happened. Ehrlich, without large sums of money and international recognition, might otherwise be labelled a small-town eccentric.
In pursuit of protecting a Village (or a country) from change, the reaction of the privileged is despotic. In the vein of those like Ehrlich and Trump, their ends justify their means — if they perceive something as “wrong,” “they don’t go and ask for permission, they just do it.” In small towns like Sea Cliff, across the US, individuals are emboldened to actively defy the rule of law for their own benefit. It’s an ideology that emboldens behaviour like that of March 10 or January 6, all resulting from the trickle-down of Donald Trump and entitled personalities like Ehrlich.