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Deja Vu all over
again
In their June 10-16, 1999
issue, The Tucson Weekly covered the referendum challenging the
approval of the WLB rezoning by the Pinal County Supervisors.
A snippet from this 1999
article sounds hauntingly familiar in light of the recent lawsuit filed
by the Landowner and Oracle resident Elain Helzer, alleging the Willow
Springs referendum was submitted 2 weeks late.
According to Pinal County
records, the citizen's didn't recieve the material for the Willow Springs
referendum until May 31, 2 weeks after they had filed an application for
a referendum petition to challenge the Willow Springs rezoning.
The snippet from the 1999
article follows (emphasis added):
. . . . "I don't think the people raising Cain
with this have even been up there (in Oracle) for very long," he [Pinal
County Supervisor Lionel Ruiz] says.
That notion raises the hackles of Michelle Taylor, another
petition-pusher who says many signatures came from folks inhabiting Oracle
longer than Ruiz has been in office. "The Board and the developers have
taken a condescending view of residents trying to have a voice in the democratic
process. All along, they've referred to us as 'those people,' when they
should be applauding people for wanting to get involved."
Taylor says such haughtiness has prevailed from the get-go,
as Pinal officials tried to squelch the petition through a variety of shenanigans.
Some could be dismissed as dumb mistakes for a government scrambling over
new turf. Others seem deliberately designed to protect a good-old-boy political
culture.
When
she first tried to get petition forms on April 26, Taylor says she was
told they wouldn't be available until May 12. That would have left less
than two weeks to collect the 3,000 signatures needed. When she persisted
by motoring up to Florence, she says County Manager Stanley Griffis took
a snotty tone, telling her she couldn't even file for a referendum at all.
But cooler heads--and the law--prevailed: within 90 minutes she had a green
light from the county attorney.
The July, 1999 story follows. |
Pinal County Residents Deliver Petitions Demanding
Public Vote On Controversial Rezoning.
By Tim Vanderpool
PINAL COUNTY'S drowsy politicos were roused
by the cold splash of rebellion last month, when some 8,000 proper citizens
decided to raise a little fuss.
That's the number of names gathered in less than a month by opponents
of a massive development scheme in Oracle. Developers hoping to turn the
laconic hamlet of 4,500 into a strapping stucco suburb were likewise startled
by the powerful petition drive. Now their dream of planting 4,000 homes
across 3,000 acres of desert will probably land on the November 2000 ballot
for a county-wide vote.
If so, it will be the first referendum in the mostly rural county's
history.
But the issue spreads way beyond Oracle, apparently striking a chord among
far-flung residents in a jurisdiction stretching north from Catalina to
Apache Junction, and west to Casa Grande. "The people in Casa Grande, Florence,
Apache Junction, they all feel deluged," says petition organizer Darrell
Klesch. "Populations in those areas have doubled in 10 years. The point
is this: don't people in every one of those towns have the right to say
what kind of place they want to live in?"
Klesch says the three-member Pinal County Board of Supervisors was also
shocked by the petition, which contained more than twice the number of
names required for a referendum.
On April 21, the Board had voted to approve the Rancho Coronado plan
for Oracle, in a steamy Florence hearing room packed with cranky opponents.
Today, Supervisor Lionel Ruiz, whose district encompasses Oracle, admits
that his vote probably wasn't a wise political move. "But my job is to
look out for the best interests of the county," he says.
He calls the plan an economic necessity, given a moribund copper market
that's dropped the San Manuel mine near Oracle into the doldrums. Ruiz
also touts Rancho Coronado as an alternative to wildcat growth.
Considering the development's opponents, "I don't think the people raising
Cain with this have even been up there (in Oracle) for very long," he says.
That notion raises the hackles of Michelle Taylor, another petition-pusher
who says many signatures came from folks inhabiting Oracle longer than
Ruiz has been in office. "The Board and the developers have taken a condescending
view of residents trying to have a voice in the democratic process. All
along, they've referred to us as 'those people,' when they should be applauding
people for wanting to get involved."
Taylor says such haughtiness has prevailed from the get-go, as Pinal
officials tried to squelch the petition through a variety of shenanigans.
Some could be dismissed as dumb mistakes for a government scrambling over
new turf. Others seem deliberately designed to protect a good-old-boy political
culture.
When she first tried to get petition forms on April 26, Taylor says
she was told they wouldn't be available until May 12. That would have left
less than two weeks to collect the 3,000 signatures needed. When she persisted
by motoring up to Florence, she says County Manager Stanley Griffis took
a snotty tone, telling her she couldn't even file for a referendum at all.
But cooler heads--and the law--prevailed: within 90 minutes she had a green
light from the county attorney.
It was an auspicious beginning for what became an incredibly successful
campaign.
All of which hardly sat well with the big enchiladas behind Rancho Coronado,
who probably expected a smooth ride. But at least a few bumps in the road
were of their own making. Despite protestations that "we bent over backwards
to work with those people," Coronado point man Charles Hulsey, a consultant
with Tucson's WLB engineering firm, didn't exactly endear himself to Oracle
residents with an earlier presentation before Pinal's Planning and Zoning
Commission.
"He started showing slides of what happens when you don't have master-planned
communities," Taylor says. "They were pictures of slopes and people's homes
in Oracle. He didn't come right out and say it, but he obviously considered
them just to be examples of white trash. Of course people were absolutely
outraged."
For his part, Hulsey is a little perturbed at what he considers a double-cross
by the Oracle contingent. The tiff goes back to the developer's decision
to pull two areas of the original three-pronged plan from consideration
prior to the supervisors' April 21 vote. He calls it a compromise initially
applauded by residents--and later ignored like an unwanted stepchild.
Others call it a cynical move that only deserved the boot.
Still, Hulsey says backwards-thinking residents of Oracle will emerge
the real losers. "They seem to think they're saving their town," he says.
"Now we'll probably proceed with subdividing Area 2 under the zoning that
already exists. There are about 800 acres in that second piece, and I think
I'll get 500 to 550 homesites."
But what won't happen is the important part, Hulsey says bitterly,
contrasting the current zoning with tighter requirements under the master
plan Coronado hoped for.
"Will we have restrictions on what we can grade? No. We can grade anything
we want to. Is there a restriction on salvaging the native plants and reusing
them? No, we don't have to do that. Is there any donation of land for schools?
No, no requirement to do that."
Meanwhile, any pretense of conciliation is achingly absent. Hulsey says
he was even physically accosted in early June, while giving a presentation
in Oro Valley on an unrelated topic. "A group came down from Oracle, obviously
to disrupt the meeting. And one little lady decided to knock me into a
wall. Twenty-five years in this business, and this is the first time somebody
has done something like that."
While she doesn't condone such mayhem, Taylor says Hulsey's own pissy
arrogance--and that of Pinal County muckety-mucks--has prompted the current,
dismal relations. "Basically, what he's saying is, 'I have no respect for
the democratic process, and I don't really give a shit what "You People"
think. I'm going to come out on top.' "
But in formerly peaceful Pinal County, at least 8,000 folks figure otherwise.
And the ink from their pens is still damp.
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