Promises, not results, will be how the mayor is remembered.

Ed Balico must be conflicted as he sits at home not a councilman for the first time in a decade. There is the legacy Balico thinks he has the right to–the one centered around a doodle on a napkin with a grand vision of a gondola, streetcars and a helipad–and the actual legacy he must accept–high on promises, low on results.

Balico is a lot like the proverbial father or uncle that promises to take you to Disneyland but never does. He’d buy the plane tickets, reserve the hotel room, make you pack your bag and get you excited for the trip, only for you to find out the day before departure the plan had changed. “Disney World in Florida is much bigger,” he’d say, and then another plane ticket, hotel room, packed bag, another sense of hope. “Wait…Disneyland Paris is supposed to be much nicer now than when it first opened as Euro Disneyland,” he’d go on, and yet another plane not to be boarded, hotel reservation never to be used, another bag needlessly packed, and all that remains in the back of your mind is that there is a Disneyland in Tokyo, too.

Ed Balico promised the waterfront–which was to include not only hundreds of new homes, but be combined with retail, restaurants, and a train and ferry station to create an urban center–but he had all but given up on delivering that promise once the personal financial benefit dried up.

Balico made commissions on homes sold in the Bayside development and the Railroad Avenue live-works. His proponents defended him saying that he was never the deciding vote on the council on these matters (which were perpetually unanimous), but that is really not the issue. His role in the deliberations preceding the vote is what should have prompted him to recuse himself and he never did.

The next promise was New Town Center and then Hilltown, and then it was the Field of Dreams on the annex. But none of it was real, and it wasn’t always consistent, either.

Balico was part of the group that invited Walmart, who the city was then forced to fight in court following public uproar, the Szabo plan, which resulted in the Waterfront Now Initiative, and now he supports Costco at Hilltown. None of these were included in the 2000 Central Hercules Plan developed by residents and approved by the council, but Balico works off a different plan–his own.

There are residents that seem to worship the man and many refer to him as Mr. Hercules. They believe that he did only good, even when he hasn’t, and that his intentions were in the right place, even if it clearly has been demonstrated that they were not. They are convinced that the only thing that destroyed his arc of greatness was the malignant, powerful force of the media.

In November 2008, despite revelations of the corrupted profits he made, Balico received the most votes in the history of the city. He was invincible, or so everyone thought.

In the face of a recall however, he had to save face–or rather, save his fledgling company, Hercules Global, which he said was was being hurt by the negative information former interim City Manager Charles Long was publishing regarding the city’s finances. Long was fired on December 7.

Balico was appointed mayor the following week by the new council (newcomer Myrna de Vera voted, “nay”). In his acceptance speech, Balico said that he was willing to sacrifice his family for the sake of the city. On Tuesday evening, just four weeks later, he resigned so he could put his “family first,” literally moments before residents presented the mayor with their intention to recall.

Balico had put his family first. Balico’s son was employed by Affordable Housing Solutions Group, which ran the city’s affordable housing agency–a company also known as NEO. The same company that had been the subject of Grand Jury investigations, and onced owned by former City Manager Nelson Oliva, his daughters, and finally Walter McKinney, but only after a Grand Jury report chastised the insidious relationship.

Balico’s daughter received financial assistance when the redevelopment agency purchased her condo in September 2009 in a short sale for one-third of the mortgaged value, which had included a $50,000 first-time homebuyer’s loan from the agency. Her father sat on the subcommittee that approved the transactions.

Balico never seemed to understand what it meant to be a public official. Although Balico understood what corruption was, he never realized that what he had done was corrupt, and he believed his reasoning seemed rational, if not obvious: Balico brought forth great plans and vision for the community and delivered or was poised to deliver great success. So why shouldn’t he benefit?

The biggest loser in Balico’s contorted legacy is not Balico himself or his company; it’s the residents. We’re still in line at Disneyland and the credit card balance is due.