Fixing a Screwed up City
I live in a city that’s pretty screwed up. In many ways. But last month a cavalry rode into town with sabers drawn and bugle blaring, and our salvation may be at hand.
In land use planning there is no official category termed “screwed up city” but it fits.
I grew up – and returned to live and raise a family in – High Point, Furniture Capital of the World. High Point’s population doubles during each of the fall and spring International Home Furnishings Markets. As a wholesale trade show event, none of the furniture showrooms, which occupy a majority of the downtown space and close to 100% of the store fronts, is open to the public either during or between markets.
In other words, we have a downtown that is permanently closed to the citizens of the city.
On top of that we have little to no downtown public space, one way streets designed to move cars as quickly as possible from points A to B without an ability (or interest) to stop at points in between, a Main Street with an average actual speed between 45 and 51 mph depending upon time of day, and our hottest entertainment area in an outparcel-heavy district on Highway 68, three miles from downtown.
“Screwed up,” perhaps, is a polite understatement.
The cavalry that rode into town was a consulting group led by Andres Duany, who some have called the Father of Neo-urbanism. Duany’s team was organized by High Point “City Project” and paid for by private and public contributors who are desperate to see our city turn around before we have fallen irretrievably over the cliff.
Duany described High Point’s furniture market as “the most complete monoculture I’ve ever seen,” adding that all it is good for is “fame and tax base.” The town is designed and constructed to support a semi-annual economic event that, in itself, causes High Point to exist on statistical ledge, waiting against an unexpected event – any event – to topple it to the canyon floor below. “If the monoculture sneezes,” Duany noted, “there is no Plan B.”
In both standing-room-only public presentations, Duany expressed amazement at the obstacle created by the “market.” “When the market is gone, the entire downtown hibernates. . . . I’ve been to many places but never to a place where all the storefronts hibernate.”
In economic terms, Duany explained that the market is a “spike,” and spikes are terrible for commerce because businesses must continually “staff up and staff down.” High Point, he marveled, has the “Everest of spikes.”
Duany’s antidote is to create a mixed use town anchored by one “hot destination” district. Since the historic downtown is unavailable for that, he recommended another area several blocks north. “All it takes is two and a half blocks to create a famous destination,” citing examples of 2-3 block famous areas all of us had heard of.
High Point also must plant trees along that stretch and engage in “road dieting,” something he described as a non-negotiable aspect of the plan. Road dieting eliminates the hostile experience of speeding traffic, creates places for parking and landscaping, and nurtures a friendly, desirable place to visit.
Historical sidebar: High Point would have an even wider Main Street (it’s now four lanes plus center) were it not for my great-grandmother who, in a brazen act, moved the family business (Richardson’s Department Store) into the sidewalk space and much closer to the street, forcing all stores to move forward in order to compete. End sidebar.
Duany’s plan, presented in skeletal form after a week of charettes, included all sorts of other ideas, such as using “sea cans,” those containers used for overseas shipping, as cheap and quick ways to establish retail establishments.
If he was hostile to anything, it was the government, which he sees as an unnecessary obstacle driving up costs. “Why are all the kids these days becoming artists and filmmakers?” he asked. “It’s because those are the only things you can do without a governmental permit.”
Many other cities with fewer resources have been able to reverse urban divestiture and re-create a portion of their downtown that once was. However, no other city, to Duany’s knowledge or mine, has had to reboot their downtown without an available downtown. Stay tuned for developments!
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Boards of Adjustment and Chinese Pigs
Two interesting things happened today. The first is obviously related to land use and the second is . . . obviously related to land use.
First, this morning the N.C. Senate Commerce Committee unanimously approved a “PCS” (proposed committee substitute) for the Board of Adjustment bill that unanimously passed the House 119-0. The changes are stylistic only (plus a correction of one very embarrassing noun/verb agreement error).
This bill was conceived and drafted this year through the Land Use Section of the NC Bar Association. Drafting was done in an open and transparent manner, and many, many folks throughout the state can find their thumb print in words and phrases in the bill draft.
[More about this bill and how it restructures and modernizes boards of adjustment in North Carolina in that vague “if/when” future of bill passage.]
Second, Smithfield Foods, with 10,000 N.C. employees, announced today that it has agreed to be acquired by a Chinese company for $4.7 billion. This acquisition will be the subject of many commentaries and editorials, but I dare say this will be the only one tying it to land use.
Several times a year I represent companies who need a zoning change before they can acquire land for development. In many cases, my clients are companies from out-of-state or are in-state but from out-of-town. The larger the company the more the rezoning can feel to a neighbor as though it’s an invasion by an outside force.
And because humans are, by nature, territorial, change wrought by outsiders tends to be feared or interpreted negatively. Similarly, our collective fear of the economic and military power growing in the East is amorphous until a company with several N.C. outposts comes under its ownership and control.
The Chinese haven’t invaded us. They have bought us. But acquisition and invasion are but two sides of the same coin, and the unsettling feeling it generates is no different than the feeling neighbors have when a development company from Ohio decides to buy Mr. MacGregor’s farm next door to build one of its subdivisions.
Unless you live next door to a proposed development, growth in one part of town is little different than growth anywhere, just as the Smithfield pigs will no doubt find that corn paid for with American dollars taste just the same as corn paid for by Chinese yuan.
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A Culture of Local Government Corruption
This past Sunday’s New York Times had a fascinating article on the culture of corruption in Spain and other southern European countries – countries which for centuries allowed local mayors and magistrates to enrich themselves through graft and bribery.
Three short paragraphs were harsh:
Spain is by no means Europe’s most corrupt nation — Greece and Italy are considered more so. But the sheer volume of political corruption cases here is proving deeply embarrassing.
Judges here are now investigating about 1,000 officials ranging from small-town mayors . . . to former cabinet ministers. Even the country’s conservative prime minister, Mariano Rajoy, has turned up on a list of his party’s stalwarts who were supposedly taking payments under the table. . . .
There are so many scandals that some newspapers have taken to organizing all but the biggest developments in a quick-list format, rather than writing whole articles.
Why does this article fascinate me? Because in 28 years traveling to local governmental meetings and hearings in every section of our state, I have never – and I truly mean never – heard an elected official or staff person so much as quietly hint that money or favors could result in a different outcome. Nor have I heard any other land use attorney tell me that they’ve been approached about under-the-table payments.
Equally true is that I have never represented any owner or developer who has asked me how to grease the political skids through a form of payment or favor, nor have I ever been aware of a client who did so behind my back.
Yes, we occasionally read about corrupt acts, but those are the exceptions. So why are we so different from southern Europe? Why does our political culture function on the “up and up” rather than the down low.
I could give several answers that would reverberate with shallow-minded rhetoric about how America is a better country and we are a better people, but my own barf buttons would get pushed before I could hit the “publish” command that sends my words into the blogosphere.
Rather than trying to delve too deeply into why our local government culture eschews corruption, and rather than using my observation as an opportunity to engage in blather, I’ll just simply express gratitude.
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Too Much Information?
Perhaps I shouldn’t admit this, but I read the quoted article this past Sunday on my iPhone while sitting through a church service (which I occasionally do attend). And since I’m now tweeting, I sent it out into the world to all five of my followers before the final hymn. You can find me on Twitter by going to @terrelltom and become my sixth follower.
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Would you comment?
Among my blog readers are other land use attorneys and several elected officials, planners and other city and county staff. I would love to know – by your comments below – whether your experience mirrors my own or whether you have ever personally experienced the type of corruption in our local governments that, according to the NY Times, is prevalent in southern Europe.
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In Search of a Civil Government
Two nights ago I attended a public hearing in Asheboro where Randolph County considered approving a new landfill next to its old landfill. Granted, landfill hearings generate their share of emotion, but civility is civility and this hearing was in short supply.
[Fair disclosure: the county is my client]
According to the Courier Tribune article, “several of the supporters were heckled loudly.” It’s true. Landfill opponents loudly booed some who voiced landfill support and cheered on cue for comments against the proposal. One opponent shouted angrily and uncontrollably at the commissioners from a podium that was only a few feet away. Others spoke in tones of voice that were derisive, condescending and snide. At least one in six speakers came from out of county. [I only address here the manner of communication, not the substance of the comments or the substance of the decision.]
Our country was built and thrives on public discourse by the wheelbarrow load. Bull horns, shouting and name-calling have their place in our parks, political parades and public corners, and those methods of communicating are a valuable part of our tradition. But there are lines you don’t cross. Once you enter the governmental chambers, catcalls and boos are inappropriate and disrespectful of the offices our elected officials hold.
Does that make me conservative and old school? Probably. After all, I’m one of the few who still thinks you should dress respectfully when coming to speak at a public hearing, and that means tucking in your shirt, no T-shirts with beer company logos, and no flip flops.
The Randolph commissioners are dedicated public servants who work hard to do their job and they did nothing to deserve what they went through.
There are few lawyers who have been in as many different hearings in as many different places as I have, and my experience Monday night was not the norm.
Case in point. As I write this I have just returned from a town council meeting in the Town of Wentworth, the capital seat of Rockingham County, and the contrast between tonight and Monday night is stark. I’ve had the honor of serving as Wentworth’s attorney or supervising attorney for more than ten years, and I’ve previously described their meetings as reminding me of a scene in a Norman Rockwell painting.
In more than ten years I have never heard a member of the public speak in anything but civil tones. Some citizens come to council meetings just because they want to know what’s going on in their community. Council members are glad to see each other and have been known to hug in greeting. Votes do not follow partisan lines, and you never witness posturing for the media. Political humility is the norm.
Tonight the retiring town administrator gave her final “budget message” and took the opportunity to make some predictions for Wentworth’s future, including the prediction that “a restaurant” may soon come to Wentworth. “A restaurant.” I noted the singular description expressed with small town hope and gratitude.
Tonight was also special because Ms. Powell, one of the council members, just turned 90 and there was cake and punch to celebrate.
Here’s to more governmental meetings in the style of Wentworth. Here’s to the tradition of civil discourse we all should cherish.
And here’s to Ms. Powell serving at least until she’s 100.
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As a quarter-century veteran of land use battles in every corner of this state there’s little I haven’t heard. But this much I know. What people think is often not reflected in what they say at the public podium.
And being a veteran Southerner in my mid-fifties, I have decently honed skills in recognizing coded language, when people sanitize the thoughts and language freely expressed around the privacy and sanctity of the kitchen table in order to say-without-actually saying what they want a board to hear (and which boards – at one level or another – are good at hearing). Racial code words used to be prevalent in land use public hearings. More often than not it’s now fear that Hispanics are moving into “our” neighborhood.
After all, there are no limits to what we fear and what we think, but our uttered words and sentences wear the shackles of social and political propriety.
Recent litigation in Nash County offered excellent behind-the-scenes glimpses of what folks say in one context but describe differently when being deposed and under oath in what feels like a private conversation in a small room with an opposing lawyer. And now that the Court of Appeals has decided the case, I’d like to share with you what some of the plaintiffs said under oath.
In cases where standing is contested, courts have little choice but to accept at face value what citizens claim at public hearings. While I’ve written and spoken about this phenomenon for years, the Morgan v. Nash case recently decided by the Court of Appeals amply illustrates my point.
I do not quote plaintiffs to ridicule them. I do it because it is so rare that zoning case plaintiffs are deposed on matters related to standing and where their true feelings are plumbed.
In this case, the City of Wilson and 34 individual plaintiffs sued Nash County over a zoning decision that could enable a Mississippi company to build a chicken processing plant. Street level comments – reported to me by many – were heavily peppered with comments about the Hispanic workers the plant would attract to the area.
But when the same folks who say one thing on the street came to speak at public hearings, they suddenly became lifelong environmentalists concerned only about industrial impacts to water, air and soil.
In fact, two Nash County officials explained to me at the beginning of litigation that part of Wilson’s concern, as expressed by its mayor in a private meeting, was that Nash would get the tax base while Wilson would only get what he called the “social costs.” Under direct examination before a court reporter he denied that he said it.
What did plaintiffs say behind closed doors?
But what did the plaintiffs say behind closed doors? Following are some direct quotes from lawsuit depositions that illustrate my point. These depositions are public documents and available for anyone to read. All of the plaintiffs are white. Most of them live in a rural and somewhat upscale subdivision over two miles away. It was clear that many of them wanted to protect their end of the county as a segregated place where only “people like us” (my phrase) can live.
Notably, nowhere in my deposition outline did I plan to ask – or ask without invitation – any question related to racial, xenophobic or similar fears. The following comments were simply volunteered, but I did follow up what they initiated.
Let’s start with Faye Daniel who did not live in the distant subdivision but just under a mile away from the rezoning site. She made it clear that she thought “GI [zoning] is going to change the complexion of our community.” [Note: in fairness, the court reporter wrote “complex” but the comment was “complexion.”]
Faye Daniel
Daniel: But . . . these jobs are not going to be held very long by local people. It’s going to bring in illegal citizens probably . . . Unfortunately they’re going to end up being dependent upon Social Services. . . . And it’s just going to be a detriment to our community where we don’t have a higher quality . . .
Terrell: What I hear you say is that a large part of your opposition is to the type of people?
Daniel: Yes, that is it, and these people are brought in to do this work. Many of them are Hispanic people . . .
Terrell: Would they lead to some of the – any crime increase?
Daniel: Oh yes. Knightdale was loaded with crime.
Terrell: From Hispanics?
Daniel: Uh-huh. Oh, yes. I was protected by a gang.
Terrell: When you taught? [She had been a teacher in Knightdale]
Daniel: Yes . . .
Terrell: And would you also be worried that they would be looking for places to live in the community?
Daniel: Yes.
Daniel Cantu
Daniel Cantu lived 2.187 miles from the zoning site. As the lawyer asking him questions, I admit that he pushed one of my very pushable buttons when he proclaimed that he moved into this rural agricultural area expecting not to hear farm tractors and smell the odor of farm animals.
He opined that the rezoning will bring the “traffic of crime” and “trailer parks and those type (sic) of people that are going to be the bulk of the low paying jobs there.”
Cantu: Well. This side of the county where we live (emphasis added)
Terrell: What do you mean . . . people with higher income?
Cantu: Yes . . . People who are going to work here are going to probably want to live close to it . . . which is around where these nice neighborhoods are and where we live.”
John Leposa
John Leposa lived exactly 2 miles away from the site. He was fearful that “different demographics” (his term) making up what he anticipated would be Sanderson’s work force would bring crime to his neighborhood.
Kathy Williamson
Ms. Williamson lived 2.08 miles away. She works at Wilson Community College but also has a real estate broker’s license and was keenly aware of the legal prohibitions against describing a neighborhood as “changing” (i.e. integrating) or mentioning racial or ethnic groups. In the dialogue that follows, the topic is raised by Wilson’s attorney, T.C. Morphis. The underlying issue, of course, was whether plaintiffs in Ms. Williamson’s neighborhood had standing. I believe T.C. was unprepared for her answers.
Morphis: You said you still have a valid real estate broker’s license, is that right?
Williamson: I do.
. . .
Morphis: Now, is it important when you’re trying to sell property to know about property values?
Williamson: Absolutely.
. . .
Morphis: What influences property values?
Williamson: Things we’re not allowed really to talk about. Good neighborhoods – you can’t really say that to a client.
. . . . .
Terrell: What makes a neighborhood good or bad?
Williamson: Things like traffic, and . . . [very long pause]
Terrell: When you say “those things you can’t talk about,” what are those things?
Williamson: I’m not even going to go there. Let’s not even . . .
Terrell: Are you talking about black people and Hispanic people?
Williamson: We don’t talk about stuff like that.
Terrell: So you don’t talk about black people or Hispanic people?
Williamson: No.
. . .
Terrell: Is income level one of them?
Williamson: Income level?
Terrell: Uh-huh
Williamson: No.
Terrell: Then what else? You had a plural list. [a long pause that reached perhaps two minutes followed this question while I sat and waited]
Williamson: Rednecks. That’s all I’ve got to say.
Were plaintiffs truly concerned about the environment?
To bolster my point that plaintiffs’ claims of environmental damage from Sanderson’s plant were chicken poop at best, following are some selected testimonies from plaintiffs’ depositions. No plaintiff could do anything more than repeat a general theory they had overheard that a chicken processing plant (or other industrial use) would have a negative environmental impact.
Kevin Bright
Kevin Bright lived 2.864 miles from the rezoning site, the farthest of any plaintiff. He lives on the banks of the Tar River and regularly fertilizes his yard.
Terrell: So you don’t want GI zoning close to where you live?
Bright: I don’t want it because it’s in the protected watershed, and in proximity to our water supply, our drinking water supply in the reservoir.
. . .
Terrell: But you don’t drink the water. Your water . . . comes from a well.
Bright: Well, it comes from the well. It comes out of the ground.
Terrell: So you’re telling me that 2.864 miles away is a potential for some type of a groundwater contamination occurring [that affects you].?
Bright: Sure. Sure.
Terrell: Based on what?
Bright: Based on proximity to the river.
Terrell: But you don’t drink from the river.
Bright: Well, I don’t know that for certain. But I’m saying that the contamination of the water supply is very likely.
. . .
Terrell: Your well water is separate from the surface water, is it not?
Bright: I don’t know.
Terrell: Do you have any idea what all that nitrogen that you put on your grass is doing to the river?
Bright: I have no idea.
Sandra Bright
Terrell: Why shouldn’t this 150 acres be [rezoned] exactly like your subdivision’s been [rezoned]?
S. Bright: This is a protected watershed.
Terrell: Yours is not? You’re on the water . . . Why am I not figuring this one out?
S. Bright: Ask the question again?
George DeSanto
Some plaintiffs complained about noise pollution from an industry that would be located over 2 miles away. One of them was George DeSanto who had recently moved to Nash County from New Jersey.
Why? Mr. DeSanto stated, in all seriousness and oblivious to the irony, that he moved to Nash County because he wanted a quiet place to ride his [loud] motorcycle.
Joe Lybrand
In addition to environmental concerns from any industry moving into the southern part of the county, Mr. Lybrand wanted to keep out farms!
Terrell: Does it bother you that there are farmlands all around you?
Lybrand: No.
Terrell: You’re not worried if a dairy farm came in?
Lybrand: Yes, that would worry me.
Mr. Lybrand wasn’t the only one who moved into a rural area but didn’t want to be near farms. Plaintiff Gail Sullivan stated that she would attend a public hearing to protest a planned horse or cattle farm because of the odor and flies.
Was the Rezoned Tract in Their Neighborhood?
Standing to be a plaintiff is a fact specific inquiry, and one of the questions I put to most plaintiffs was whether they knew any of the individuals who lived on property adjoining the rezoning site. Not a single plaintiff (of approximately 25) who lived in the distant subdivision knew any of their “neighbors” over two miles away. Following is a typical exchange where I asked one of the plaintiffs (in this case, Joe Lybrand) why he considered the rezoning site over two miles away to be his neighborhood:
Terrell: You don’t know Roger Parker, do you?
Lybrand: No
Terrell: You don’t know Ada Morgan, do you?
Lybrand: No.
Terrell: You don’t know Judith or David Scull, do you?
Lybrand: No
Terrell: You don’t know Cecil or Bertine Williams, do you?
Lybrand: No
Terrell: You don’t even know Faye Daniel?
Lybrand: No, and I get Faye doesn’t know me, either.
Terrell: And you don’t know Jean Bissette, do you?
Lybrand: No.
Terrell: In fact, you don’t know anybody who lives up on Tar River Church Road, do you?
Lybrand: I have a co-worker who has a father who lives on that road.
Terrell: But you don’t know him.
Lybrand: No
Terrell: The fact is, you don’t even consider the area where Tar River Church Road comes into 97 to be your community, do you?
Lybrand: Sure I do.
Terrell: You don’t know anybody who lives up there.
Lybrand: So?
Conclusion
To be clear, I don’t suggest that all land use opponents hide behind the environment when their real concern is one that cannot be stated publicly. I do suggest, however, that such disingenuous statements are common, and board members should listen carefully to what is said and not said.
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A New Year’s Remembrance of Things Past
Three years ago this morning I poured the first cup of coffee of 2010, closed the door to my study, and wrote a melancholy reflection of the economic devastation we had witnessed the preceding year. One year ago I republished the original post (Ringing in the New Year with Appropriate Punctuation) with a follow-up reflection titled The Sound of Chirping Birds.
We’re coming back. In this morning’s paper I read that a national homebuilder (Pulte Homes) is the S&P’s largest “gainer” for 2012, increasing its stock value 187%. Rounding out the top five stocks for the year is Bank of America, both a cause and symbol of the economic collapse in late 2008.
While I never know who my readers are, WordPress tells me each day which of my past posts have hits. For reasons unknown, these two posts continue to be found and read.
So . . . to start the New Year that we call Twenty Thirteen, I’ll republish both posts below.
The Sound of Chirping Birds
On a few occasions I’ve used this blog to comment on the economy that undergirds land development and growth. Two years ago, I woke up on New Year’s Day and, reflecting on the economic carnage we all had witnessed during 2009, wrote a post that captured what it felt like to have been in a profession that was bloodied and bruised by an army we never saw coming over the hill. After all, those of us with clients in the land development business seemed to carry more body bags than other industries did.
I ended that post on a note of mild optimism with these words:
“So today, January 1, step with me into 2010. If you come through the door with me the brass section won’t play and the champagne won’t flow, but I can promise that the sun will come up, and if we wait awhile we’ll soon hear chirping birds.”
Little did I know how long the night would last. But I’m listening closely, and I think I hear the distant sound of birds chirping, although they aren’t yet here. I’m looking hard and seeing hints of a sun about to rise.
Economists can debate numbers on graphs, but I look at newspaper headlines, the upticks in numbers of filings for rezonings, new client activity, and smiles on realtors’ faces. I notice local giving to nonprofits and gauge activities of new companies in town.
You can talk about the Euro and GNP and the Dow Jones all you want, but I believe the sun is starting to rise.
To read my January 1, 2010 post in the original, click here. To read it without the extra click, read below:
Ringing in the New Year with Appropriate Punctuation
Happy New Year.
I’m sure that’s the first time I’ve written that phrase without the usual and somewhat clichéd exclamation point. New Year’s Eve celebrations have a sense of falsity about them anyway. Mildly fake revelry. A feeling that we’re required to stay awake two hours past normal bedtime although we’re really not sure why.
Today I just want to ease open the door to 2010, pause quietly as I glance back at the worst economic year of my lifetime, and step unnoticed into the New Year.
That quick, backward glance is not pretty. It provides no reason to linger unless you’re the driver who rubbernecks at highway carnage.
This year we were reminded that a capitalist economy has contractions, but the tidal ebb was different this time because the root causes did not seem to be part of the natural order of things. There was a feeling that those who controlled our banks and investment houses – folks who should have been on “our” team – betrayed us and became economic terrorists.
The aftermath left us bewildered and angry. Bank failures. Layoffs. Personal and corporate bankruptcies. Depleted retirement funds and crippled university endowments.
Civil discourse was rare as the pundit class, followed by legions of letter-to-the-editor writers, flooded the streets. Republicans blamed Clinton and developed apoplexy at the Democratic spending spree that was supposed to right our ship. Democrats viciously accused the Republicans who controlled all three branches of government for most of the preceding eight years.
If there ever was a year when the center did not hold, when the falcon broke from his master’s perch and W.B. Yeats’ beast slouched towards Bethlehem to be born, this was that year.
We scoff at folks who make victimhood their walking screen saver, yet “victim” seems to be an appropriate adjective to capture the flavor of a year when millions of people who didn’t deserve what happened to them had to suffer through a crisis that thousands of Wharton grads and Harvard MBAs did not foresee, and, to a great extent, caused.
Last night we shared New Year’s Eve with several friends, including one of the nicest guys I know who was informed in early December that his large law firm was downsizing again. His last day in the office was yesterday, but his mortgage and college tuition payments still come due. In my perfect world, brains, kindness, honest dealings and a great work ethic should not be rewarded with a pink slip.
The recession that we label “2009” really started in 2008 and will continue into 2010. The date change makes a difference only to the extent that the economy is driven by the human psyche. Our social myth – and a myth with great power – is that January 1 is more than just another day. It’s a day we set aside for hope. It’s an opportunity for a new start. It’s that one moment on the calendar when we feel that our willpower can control our destiny.
So today, January 1, step with me into 2010. If you come through the door with me the brass section won’t play and the champagne won’t flow, but I can promise that the sun will come up, and if we wait awhile we’ll soon hear chirping birds.
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Members of the land use bar and city/county planning communities have anxiously awaited the N.C. Supreme Court’s review of Hest Technologies v. State of North Carolina involving what is popularly called video poker or video sweepstakes. The case was appealed from the Court of Appeals, which found such displays to be protected speech.
Full and complete disclosure: My law firm has represented and did represent Hest Technologies in this case, although I personally was not involved. Nor am I my law firm’s spokesman on this matter. Therefore, I’ll only provide a couple of comments that have nothing to do with the Court’s reasoning.
If you’ve followed this in the press, video sweepstakes have been targeted for different reasons by citizens who lean both left and right of center. Those who lean right on social issues (as opposed to rightward on property rights issues) perceive it to be gambling. Those who lean left see it as an undesirable use which should not be allowed in certain communities or neighborhoods. To them, it is a zoning and land use issue, and they look to government to ban or limit their allowed locations.
The statute that was challenged, however, was not a land use statute but a statute which made video sweepstakes a criminal offense.
The case was authored by Justice Robin Hudson who, by most folks’ assessment, does not lean to the political right. And whether you lean left or right, most court observers will tell you she’s one of the smartest lawyers to don a judge’s robe in the past few decades. The case is worth reading if only to see how she opened the opinion to set the stage for the Court’s decision.
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