“I’m young enough” he maintains, as the 53-year-old steeples his hands thoughtfully, sitting in the boardroom in City Hall. This prayer-like posture comes naturally for an ordained deacon of the Catholic church, who ranks his family, faith and a community-development based approach to his work, as the three pillars of his worldview.
But if there is a theme to Cleary, it is balance. He refers to work-life balance: balancing a vocation for ordination with the responsibilities and joys of family; the democratic balance between elected politicians and appointed officials; balancing expectations of an expanding city with its dearth of infrastructure; and the necessity of rebalancing Ireland away from its over-developed east coast.
He is “impressed” with investments already earmarked for public projects in Galway – especially in transport, but he wants more: new bridges, more cycle paths, extending the city museum, a new library, new fire station, massive wastewater investment, and – of course – the N6 Galway ring road, on which he holds a nuanced perspective.
“It is important regional infrastructure. It is essential and is an absolute requirement,” he says. But will it solve the city’s congestion? “It can contribute, but it’s not a solution alone,” he admits, adding that alongside bus and bike initiatives, only a change in behaviour, i.e. less reliance on cars, will ultimately alleviate congestion.
Vocation
There is a zen-like calmness to the man. He is not easily ruffled, despite the Galway Advertiser naughtily lobbing in a few grenades, just to see. He tolerates interruption admirably. Hints of a sharper edge do emerge occasionally, most recently when he scoldingly reminded councillors that their requests to resource pet projects might benefit from tax raises several of them refused to ratify. Ouch.
Married to Michelle, who works for Pobal, the father-of-four adult children has for the past four years donated every third weekend to the parish of Charleville, Co Cork, where he officiates as a deacon: an ordained, priestly minister with a long tradition in Christian history.
Cleary speaks of his deaconship with enthusiasm, laughing about “high energy” First Communion children expressing surprise that their ‘priest’ is also a dad. Cleary explains his vocation in simple, self-effacing words when asked, and there is no hint of the performative piety increasingly apparent in other jurisdictions.
“People occasionally ask me – not generally as part of my day job – to pray for a private intention, and that’s a huge privilege to be asked,” he beams.
Cleary prays everyday. He also finds peace in gardening, exercise, driving and walking the family’s 11-year-old labrador cross, Jet. He enjoys set dancing, and watching hurling and football. He listens to podcasts about leadership and theology.
New broom
The Corofin native took the reins of Galway city council from interim city manager Patricia Philbin last summer, one year after fellow Clareman, Liam Conneally, was appointed chief executive of Galway County Council.
The two suits were occasional colleagues in Clare County Council over 27 years. They are regularly in touch, presenting a new, united front in dealings with other public bodies. This Galway double act has not gone unnoticed in Dublin’s corridors of power, where public servants interact with senior civil servants. ‘Power is relations... and who you know from home’, as the French political theorist Michel Foucault might say, if he was from Ennis.
A number of other Bannermen and women were appointed to senior public and private positions across Galway in the past 24 months, such as new Galway Chamber of Commerce CEO, Karen Ronan, up from Shannon, or Clare FM broadcaster, Gavin Grace, landing a senior job in County Hall. Has a blue and yellow Clare ‘mafia’ taken over Connacht’s capital?
“No. Mayo still seems to have a strong representation,” quips the serious and sober-appearing Cleary, who nevertheless retains a glint of humour beneath an ascetic visage. However the portraits of former chief executives outside Cleary’s office reminds one that Galway has been ruled by Munstermen for most of the last fifty years…
Out and about
An enormous, 4m x 2m satellite image of Galway hangs opposite Cleary’s desk. His meeting table is deliberately round, he says, to foster a collaborative approach with visitors. Legal tomes left behind by former chief exec, Brendan McGrath, tumble on a shelf. A dusty hooker sits in the corner. The room feels transitional, and the city manager’s salubrious new digs in Crown Square must be appealing.
Cleary draws the Galway Advertiser’s attention to the glittering smudge of Silver Strand on his satellite photo. As a child, Cleary’s parents, Maura and Donal, regularly took Leonard and his brothers there on holiday, staying in their caravan in Rusheen. The homemaker and her civil servant husband raised three boys on a part-time farm at the edge of the Burren. He recalls childhood, summer memories in Conamara fondly, but “Imeall Bóirne” remains home.
Cleary regularly slips out of the office, mostly solo, or occasionally with a local councillor, to walk a city neighbourhood: “And there’s a huge learning in that. I’m getting my steps in, but I find insight into opportunities and challenges across the city.”
Does he detect a sense of inertia when rambling around?
He responds that Galway weathered a recession after an economic boom mostly enjoyed on the east coast and Cork: “Galway now has the opportunity to grow that regional counterbalance to Dublin. We aspire to a larger city,” he declares, but Cleary is also damning of what he diplomatically calls “infrastructure deficits,” ie missed opportunities. “If [the city] had the opportunity to get proper resources sooner, Galway would have grown as a city.”
Solutions
So what is he doing about it? The geography, sociology, psychology, MBA, community development and theology graduate (phew ) has ideas. He points to his 11-point National Development Plan (NDP ) submission, lying freshly printed on his desk. Alongside separate upgrade proposals for Galway Port, this is Cleary's gameplan for the next decade, and this deacon blue (and yellow ) confesses he has ‘collared’ County Galway’s Oireachtas members over the past year to ensure all sing from the same hymn sheet.
These priorities include more housing; the N6 Galway City Ring Road; BusConnects; the Coirib go Cósta flood defences; wastewater improvements; cultural infrastructure; piloting a tourist tax; the Port of Galway; enabling the new Ardaun district; regenerating Dyke Road and Sandy Road; the Clifden Railway pedestrian bridge; and reforming Galway City Council’s funding model from central government.
Critics argue some of these projects have languished for years, and that without a senior minister here since the late Bobby Molloy, they will remain lingering. But Galway’s new city manager exudes an ambition for action, and has established a project delivery directorate.
“Well, the fact that we now have three super junior cabinet ministers ‘in the parish’, is a major advantage to Galway, and it's hugely helpful to me in carrying out my role, and that they are backed up by strong Dáil and Seanad representatives.”
It appears Cleary sees ministers Noel Grealish, Sean Canney and Hildegarde Naughton as levers for political action. “This gives us an opportunity to work with them and their cabinet colleagues, who have responsibility for the 11 projects we have submitted,” he reveals.
Under his direction, there has also been a shake-up of City Hall’s 630-strong workforce, with new senior officials appointed, and an overhaul of the local authority’s outdated committee system. New Community Development Officers will be appointed for each city ward.
Cleary convinced councillors of the merits of Local Property Tax and commercial rates hikes in his first year, despite some negotiated dilution, and is currently “reflecting and crunching numbers” to increase council house rents to fund maintenance.
Crowning achievement?
Next week, Cleary will present concepts on how the council’s new €36 million home in Crown Square should appear, post fit-out, to councillors and staff. Cleary desires a “Platinum level” LEED (Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design ) standard, expected to cost tens of millions euros to deliver, despite Cleary insisting the fit-out materials bill will be economic. But as a manager attempting a big move for his team, does he have the dressing room?
“I am conscious that [during] the process of change, some staff have concerns, and it's my job to listen to those concerns and try and address them,” he says, adding that laying on a shuttle bus from Ceannt train station to Mervue should solve some mobility issues raised by staff and trades unions.
Currently, the city council has most workers based across three rented properties. Cleary recalls when he began his job last year, he was grateful for a warm welcome from staff across all directorates. He was, however, surprised many never had a chance to work in HQ on College Road, and some were working in leaky offices with buckets catching rainwater. They will all move to Crown Square on his watch.
Cleary wants to maintain a public counter office close to Eyre Square where “customers” may access some of the 1,100 services the local authority provides. No suitable location has so far been identified.
“If we're serious about growing Galway city, and we're talking about growing out to the east in particular, Mervue will be closer to the city centre than its edge,” Cleary asserts. “Eyre Square will always be the historic core, but there will be new clusters of businesses, and new campuses to be built,” he predicts.
The man from North Clare is moving Galway’s central pivot eastward. How Galway’s citizens respond, and their city councillors react, will no doubt be Cleary’s most delicate balancing act.
