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Terrence Moore
Delray’s new city manager is already making strides—and staying focused
Eleven-year-old Terrence Moore had a problem.
His grandmother needed him to go to the grocery store. But in the food desert that was his neighborhood on the south side of Chicago, the store was a mile away. Worse, in between were rival gangs whose members, Moore recalls, “would strong-arm” kids with money.
So Moore learned to run—fast. “I could outrun the gangbangers,” he says. That accomplishment reinforced in Moore the idea that he could achieve a goal not shared by many other young people in that neighborhood. He wanted to be a city manager.
When he started work on Aug. 2, the 51-yearold Moore became Delray Beach’s ninth manager in eight years. What made him think that he could break that cycle?
First, Moore notes, the city commission vote to hire him was unanimous. The two factions—Mayor Shelly Petrolia and Commissioner Juli Casale, and commissioners Ryan Boylston and Adam Frankel— voted for him. So did the erratic swing vote, Commissioner Shirley Johnson.
“That makes a tremendous difference,” Moore says. The votes to hire Mark Lauzier, whom the commission fired in March 2019, and George Gretsas, whom the commission fired last November, had been split.
In addition, the city’s human resources department conducted the search. Previously, the city had outsourced the job to headhunting firms. Petrolia said the companies had “failed” Delray Beach. In fact, the city’s politics contributed to the firings of Lauzier and Gretsas, but the commission clearly felt more invested in the search that produced Moore.
Second, Moore pledged to make himself “accessible and responsible.” He bought a house in the city. Even before he started, Moore came to a meeting so he could introduce his sons, 19-year-old Parker and 15-year-old Grant.
During meetings with departments, Moore tried to shake hands with every employee. He began writing a weekly newsletter to the commission and posted it on the city’s website.
Finally, there’s that self-confidence that began to blossom 40 years ago on those runs to the grocery store.
Delray Beach is the fifth city across four states where Moore has been the manager. His previous stop was College Park, Ga., south of Atlanta. He spent seven years there—longer, Moore said, than any other manager—working only on one-year agreements. Moore thus approached the job in Delray Beach, the graveyard of managers, with “enthusiasm.”
Only a self-confident person could have started so dramatically. On Moore’s first day, he announced that all non-union employees would have to get a COVID-19 vaccine or submit to weekly testing. Moore did not blindside the commissioners. He briefed them in advance and encountered no resistance. The firefighters union later agreed to the protocols. “We are obligated,” Moore says, “to have a safe environment for employees and residents.”
There was no letup after that quick start, because the list of priorities is so long. Delray Beach’s trendy downtown vibe hides the city’s dangerously rickety public works system. Most problematic is the utilities department. Early in Moore’s tenure, Delray Beach was still negotiating with the Florida Department of Health over a proposed $1.8 million fine for water quality problems between 2007 and 2020. The department also wanted Delray Beach to state publicly that the city couldn’t vouch for the safety of its water over those 13 years. Most such issues with the department cover days or weeks, not years.
In hurricane-prone South Florida, Delray Beach still has no emergency operations center. City Hall is antiquated. Despite all the building activity, Delray Beach still lacks the technology to take permit applications online, something Boca Raton has offered since 2010. The bill to protect the city against sea level rise could be almost $400 million. For good measure, Petrolia, Casale and Johnson terminated the lease with Old School Square and left Moore to clean up the mess (see page 50) .
Moore believes that his skills “are aligned with the needs and opportunities.” He considers finance his strong point. He has overseen the sort of general obligation bond Delray Beach will need to issue for capital improvements. While Moore was manager in Sebastian, north of Vero Beach, and Las Cruces, N.M., each built a city hall.
“Our paramount focus,” Moore says, “is the water plant.” The hope is to open it in five years. He envisions working with the commission next year on that bond program. New software, Moore said, should allow online permitting in 2022.
Though Moore began work just five weeks before final budget hearings, he participated in the staff’s effort to close what had been a $10 million gap. After making cuts, the city used most of its American Rescue Plan money to balance the budget. The city may have to do the same next year.
Moore didn’t spare his own office. He decided not to fill the second assistant city manager position. “We need to be mindful of efficiency,” he says. He also eliminated the position of legislative affairs director.
Boylston says of Moore, “Everything I’ve seen is all positive. He dived right in, but he’s very empowering.” When he meets with Moore on a particular issue, Boylston adds, the manager will tell a department head to “run with it. Don’t get back to me until it’s near the end.”
During commission meetings, discussion can go sideways because of misinformation, often from Delray Beach’s acerbic social media networks. When that happens, Moore injects himself smoothly, by saying, “If I may. . .” He has not let department heads get hung out to dry.
Delray Beach’s recent history likely kept some people from applying. Moore looks past that history. “I am extremely excited and grateful to be here.”
You can’t talk about Terrence Moore without talking about where he came from. He’s driven. That drive started early. It had to.
Moore’s mother was 15 when he was born. He had no father. There were no white children in his school.
But teachers in first and second grade “complimented my intellectual ability. That was all it took. I was able to stay out of trouble despite the propensity for trouble. I recognized that I wanted to do well.”
Though the streets beckoned, Moore preferred the Chicago Public Library and the Math Equations team. He ran track in high school and at the University of Illinois, from which he graduated in three years. “It was a lonely existence in many respects.”
Every Sunday, Moore trains—alone—for the 400-meter dash at Florida Atlantic University. He’s still running. Those trips to the grocery store are long gone, but the memories remain.
“That’s an effort and a focus that never goes away,” Moore said. “And I’m still that guy.”
Eric Dernick
One local boy makes good by growing a business—and giving back
Eric Dernick followed the perfect wave like everyone else that is crazy for surfing, but in his case, it landed him right back where he started—Delray Beach—with two thriving businesses and a penchant for giving back. Dernick is a local all right, a Boca High and FAU graduate who started surfing when he was 9 years old in the wake of his parents’ divorce.
“My oldest brother got into it, and my parents unfortunately split up, but they wanted to find us an outlet, something that would help us through the transition. And then my middle brother picked it up and then I ended up surfing,” he says. “And then around 13 years old, I started competing and got sponsored by the brand Oakley.”
He competed on the east coast and in California, including the National Scholastic Surfing Association championships, racking
up trophies, even traveling to Hawaii’s North Shore and places like Costa Rica and Nicaragua to surf. For him, surfing was a way to “clear his mind” and keep things simple. He says he was 18 when he “transitioned to what I actually wanted to do.”
And that was starting a Delray surf school, which is called Waves Surf Academy and started in 2013, its first contract with the City of Delray Beach.
“I found that to be a professional surfer is a great thing, but in terms of structure and the industry I wanted something that had more stability. I came from a middle-class home, I grew up with two brothers, and we shared a room in a two-bedroom apartment. I wanted to create something I could have passion for, something that I could give back to the kids and something I could also have a future with in terms of a business.”
Waves was the first surf camp to contract with the city and lasted six years, until it moved its programs over to Delray Breakers on the Ocean. In 2017, Dernick branched out into “hospitality management” (with ongoing encouragement from the local Walsh family, which owns Ocean Properties), which included handling poolside and beach amenities like chairs and umbrellas, even supplying lifeguards— or “aquatic risk management”—to his roster of services. Today, he has 35 employees, and runs Waves Surf Academy (the surf camps and other water sports) and Waves Management (pool, beach, food and beverage, water sports and child care, etc.) His clients include many country clubs and resorts, including the Delray Beach Club, Hillsboro Beach Club, Opal Grand and Delray Dunes.
One of Dernick’s proudest accomplishments is his longtime outreach work with kids who might not otherwise he exposed to water sports or summer camps; he works with Bound For College, Joe DiMaggio
Children’s Foundation, Jack & Jill Foundation and Place of Hope.
“That’s why I started the surf schools, because I know for certain that for kids—either going through a hard time or just a regular time in their lives—surfing brings an outlet to them. … We just give them a week at camp so they can just be themselves and try something new. It increases their self-esteem, increases their self-awareness, and teaches them about the ocean. That’s a huge thing for me as well.”
In fact, he says he gets as much as he gives.
“What I love about my business is knowing that I’m giving something back. We are able to create a structure and teach them about respect not only with their peers and about themselves but taking care of the beach, taking care of the ocean, the earth—those things are intertwined. I have a business that is sustainable and doing well, but at the same time I know that it’s not just a business; it’s making a difference.”
Joe Mullings
