No one read a treatise - excuse me - "report." No one hummed patriotic songs. No one giggled uncomfortably.

Instead, Mayor Claudia Anderson, four council members and the city attorney disappeared into a back room while restless residents waited.

When they emerged an hour later, Anderson kept a plastic smile on her face. One voter demanded her resignation. Another reported the unscientific results of her own phone survey, which found Anderson's popularity lagging. Council members kept their eyes down, suffering through the root canal.

Given their history, this burg's "leaders" showed admirable restraint a few weeks ago. It's a characteristic they seem to have lost in the past year.

I like to think money shut them up - specifically, the $150,000 the power struggle between Bluffdale's two branches of government has cost the city's 6,000 taxpayers so far.

Most of the time, Utah's third-class cities are sleepy, boring even. But inevitably, power goes to someone's head and a brush fire flares.

To recap as briefly as possible:

Anderson took the mayor's office like a funnel cloud in 2006. She fired City Administrative Services Director Brent Bluth last fall. City Council members changed Bluffdale law to strip the full-time mayor of much of her power and rehired Bluth. Anderson sued to block the council's ordinance. A judge delayed implementation of the council's action until residents can vote on the city's form of government in June.

Anderson refired Bluth and hired her campaign manager, former legislator David Hogue, to take his place. The council refused to recognize Hogue. Anderson sued again. The judge said Hogue had to pack his things. And Bluth's contract demanded a severance package.

Bluffdale is not special. We've watched these small-town grudge matches play out in tantrum fashion before.

American Fork had its turn when the mayor and council battled over Police Chief John Durrant. West Jordan's descent into governmental purgatory started with a battle between then-Mayor Donna Evans and city administrators over fiscal management and ended with $300,000 in severance and settlement payouts. Holladay, Taylorsville and Riverton had dustups.

Two other cities are fighting their own civil wars right now: Eagle Mountain's ninth mayor in 10 years wants to be part-time; some council members want him to work 40 hours a week. And Syracuse residents took up petitions to block the City Council from changing Mayor Fred Panucci's job title. In March, a judge backed the residents until voters can decide that city's form of government.

This could be excused as growing pains - an apparently toxic concoction of swelling populations and equally bloated political aspirations.

"When you're a growing community, you're evolving into what you want to become. There will be some tugging. And sometimes it can get a little bit overboard," says Utah League of Cities and Towns Director Ken Bullock. "But they grow out of it."

Politicians eventually tire of the fight and move on.

But recovery comes more slowly for residents embarrassed about the headlines or left holding the bag. In the end, taxpayers are the ones paying settlements to spurned former employees or covering the cost of special elections.

Utah lawmakers have set up a task force to review the state's forms of city government. The result, no doubt, will be an omnibus bill that tweaks state law but can't sweep away the underlying problem - unwelcome change mixed with prima donna personalities.

So it's up to small-town politicians - Mayor Anderson and Council members Craig Briggs, Jesse Kelley, Nancy Lord, Bill Maxwell and Martha Speed, this means you - to dig deep and grow up.

If you need help, think of your pocketbooks.

walsh@sltrib.com