A sentimentalist’s paradise came to earth last evening.

Before and during the City Council meeting when two new members were welcomed, the community bade a massive,  reluctant but legally proscribed goodbye to Mayor Mehaul O’Leary and Vice Mayor Andy Weissman.

The three winners of the recent City Council election, returning member Meghan Sahli-Wells, and newcomers Thomas Small and Goran Eriksson were sworn in, Jim Clarke was crowned mayor, as he wished, to lead Culver City’s Centennial year, and Jeff Cooper was chosen vice mayor.

But newcomers took a deep backseat to the oldcomers. The memorable occasion belonged to the outgoing mayor and vice mayor.

Happiness over their ouster was more scarce than billionaires overnighting at a homeless shelter.

Reluctance was a heavily traveled two-way street.

It was widely agreed that Messrs. O’Leary and Weissman, forced out of office by term limits after eight years, were at the peak of their powers and political effectiveness.

The farewells – from and to – were baked in familiar and palatable language. However, the rhetoric could not mask an edge of bitterness that would have been unseemly if any more had been showing.

As different from each other as men from separate planets, their unique gifts – the rowdy-loving Mr. O’Leary and the elegant, paternalistic Mr. Weissman – drove their popularity, underpinned by their political acumens.

At an overflow pre-meeting reception in the festively attired Dan Patacchia Room, Community Development Director Sol Blumenfeld recounted voluminous accomplishments during the mutual reigns of Messrs. Weissman, the quintessential diplomat/peacemaker, and O’Leary, incurably brash and outspoken.

Let there be no doubt the spotlight was trained exclusively on the Farewell Boys.

Mr. Weissman’s well-known sly sense of humor took most of the night off as he classily waved goodbye.

Surrounded by family and a bulging cast of present and past dignitaries, the ever gracious Mr. Weissman bowed to the “indispensable” denizens of City Hall.

“The Council is important, but we wouldn’t be anything without you who work here,” he said. “You are the ones who bring the quality of life to this community.”

Brief and oozing panache.

Raw truth-telling is Mr. O’Leary’s declared specialty.

With his Irish brogue filling the room like an atomic balloon that just has been blown up by Superman, Mr. O’Leary stepped forward.

Who Are the Real Honorees?

“I was sort of confused as to what this party was for,” he said.

“I didn’t know if it was for the newly elected, to celebrate their success. Or was it for them to commiserate and say to them ‘Hey, hey. Run again next time.’

“Or to say goodbye to us. I wasn’t very sure.”

Turning poignant, the bachelor said that he was asked to send out invitations to friends and family.

“Shelly (Wolfberg from City Manager John Nachbar’s office) will tell you how many were on my guest list.”

Looking forlornly across the way to Ms. Wolfberg, Mr. O’Leary answered his own question, sadly:

“Zero.”

An uneasy laugh from the crowd followed.

Truth, as usual, spilled all over the foot-filled floor as the candid Mr. O’Leary turned the bucket upside down.

“I know for a fact that…because, I mean, I have spoken that this is a difficult moment.

“However difficult it is for me, I know it has to be multiples of that… The way I have handled that has been to go to as many departments as I could (inside City Hall) to just tell (city) staff how much they meant to us, making our job easier.”

A dampness was detected on Mr. O’Leary’s face.

What Is the Goal?

“Andy and I (as Council members) are the ones who make the decisions. But as Sol aptly stated, they (staff) are the ones who have to make it happen. If it works well, we get the credit. It doesn’t seem fair, but that was the message I was sharing from both of us today.”

Then came term limits, the red-meat piece of the mayor’s heartfelt goodbye.

“The difficult part for Andy and me is studying – me for eight years, Andy for 32 – the subject of How Does a City Run? You get to get all this information in your head. You get to have more knowledge than you ever imagined you would have.

“Then at the end of your degree course – mine, eight years, his 32 years – they tell you, ‘Okay, you know all of that information you have now logged in your head, that has been so important, 32 years, eight years – you don’t need it anymore.”

Shaky titters rose from the crowd.

“Oh, and there is no diploma, no certificate, degree or anything. It’s just ‘Thanks for coming. In fact, we are going to replace you with guys who know nothing about how it runs.’”

A prolonged roar went up.

“Of course I jest,” Mr. O’Leary tacked on to his account, the only four words of his off-the- cuff remarks that were fictionalized.

Mehaul O’Leary and a microphone – now there is a match made in a promoter’s dream, entertainment heaven. He did not disappoint in his final at-bat.