Editor’s note: This is a special report prepared for the July issue of the Southern Arizona Home Builders Association publication. It expresses the personal opinions of various executives in the development industry and related businesses. They were granted anonymity since most have active business ventures in the City of Tucson. Based on past experiences, they were concerned there could be repercussions for speaking out publicly about city operations. Despite the anonymity, some will be recognizable to other players. We are publishing the article to show examples of the exasperation that has developed with the city.

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There’s a bandwagon slowly rolling through the streets of downtown Tucson. Depending on who’s on it and who’s watching, it’s either a Parade of Progress or a Funeral Procession.

Those who see progress see revitalization. They can’t wait for Rio Nuevo, a comprehensive, billion-dollar rebirth that promises new commercial development, housing, and renovation/razing of the Tucson Convention Center (TCC).

The colossal revival has been stirring for almost 10 years.

The funeral marchers say downtown died long ago. The city can’t care for the bare essentials, let alone a massive renaissance.

Take the TCC for example. There is no hot water in public restrooms. Freight access doors are blocked by newly installed planters. At "A" Mountain, the city publicly begged for someone else to repaint it after it was painted green as a St. Patrick’s Day prank. Blaming the budget, the city didn’t want to pay the $4,000 bill.

Two members of the Southern Arizona Home Builders Association (SAHBA) stepped up: Tofel Construction and Dunn-Edwards Paints.

Decades of indecision, upside-down priorities, bad policies, personal agendas, missed economic opportunities, and a deep-seated bureaucracy have knocked the city to its economic, social and political knees.

As one downtown business owner said: "The mayor and council have a legacy of a lack of leadership. It’s embarrassing."

Urban decay under way

Abandoned buildings. Street people. Disrepair. Depopulation. Graffiti, blight, crime. These are the signs of urban decay.

At the downtown public library, street people gather in the periodicals section on the third floor. During a recent morning walk-through, about 15 homeless people were there.

"They can no longer come in and use this place as a washroom; the police have to come in and clear them out," a security guard told us.

On the streets, buildings are abandoned. Along Congress Street, sidewalks and closed storefronts feature trash and bird droppings instead of merchandise and shoppers.

Going east on Broadway, at least 20 signs advertise business buildings that are either for sale or for lease between downtown and El Con Mall, itself a largely empty shell of commerce.

Economists says urban decay arises in cities that lack affordable new homes. Deteriorating neighborhoods become magnets for the poor, attracted by cheap housing. This low-income influx reinforces a downward spiral by driving up social service expenditures.

Per the U.S. Census Bureau, Tucson’s 2006 poverty rate was 15 percent.

The shortage of workforce housing has negative impacts. Essential workers — police, nurses, teachers — often cannot find affordable housing near their jobs. Their choice is to either commute or live in the less-desirable neighborhoods that are closer to their work.

When employees leave at the end of their shifts, it rips apart the city’s social fabric. These people take their valuable skills and civic involvement to other areas.

As the bandwagon rolls away from downtown, deferred repairs could become a liability. Streets suffer from meager maintenance. But the decision to de-prioritize public safety is a poor one.

For example, copper wiring along Kino Parkway has been stolen, turning streetlights dark. The city decided not to put the lights back into service. By neglecting needed repairs, it is taking the risk that a citizen might be injured and sue.

Graffiti and crime challenges flourish. West of Interstate 10, "some neighborhoods are on the edge of blight," said one builder. At Pueblo Gardens off Kino Parkway and 36th Street, public utility crews sometimes need police escorts.

"For after-hours work, we’ll call the police to meet us there to protect the safety of our employees," said a utility executive. "There are several downtown areas where it is tough to work after dark."

News reports tell us police can’t control the "tidal wave" of drug crimes. As was revealed during this year’s dispute between the police union and City Hall, the City Council’s goal of having 2.4 officers per 1,000 residents is still short.

Anti-business genesis

From a development perspective, a complex maze of reluctant leaders, ingrained employees and citizen resistance are the roots of the anti-business policies coming out of Tucson City Hall.

City leaders "have to direct staff to develop standards and the process for encouraging development," said a builder. Instead, the "entrenched bureaucracy" won’t allow progress to happen.

"Staffers have their own personal agenda, which I believe, is no growth," he added. "The result is anarchy."

A former member of the City Council spoke of the process. If an assignment conflicted with a staff member’s agenda, it was stonewalled. The official confronted employees and a typical response was: "I’ve been here almost 20 years, you’ll be gone in four and I’ll still be here."

There is no pressure to perform. And many employees are protected by a union.

"They can’t be fired, so many feel bullet-proof. They don’t have to answer to anybody," said a director of SAHBA.

The city’s anti-business movement "got legs" during the terms of Democratic mayors Tom Volgy (1987-91) and George Miller (1991-99). Both had won council seats in 1977.

"As no-growthers, they started to empower extremists and staff to follow their lead," the SAHBA director said. "The people they hired decades ago are killing today’s redevelopment efforts. Many have moved up into policy-making positions with their negative attitudes toward progress."

Regarding the conflicts of business versus neighborhoods, Volgy once said, "It’s hard for business groups to understand what the neighborhoods want, and vice versa. It’s very hard to put themselves in each other’s shoes."

Yet Volgy’s "Kumbaya" thesis never developed into a serious collaboration. The narrow-minded NIMBY (Not In My Back Yard), BANANA (Build Absolutely Nothing Anywhere Near Anything), and NOTE (Not Over There Either) protesters trumped progress.

As the city’s finance director told the council this spring, income from sales taxes will be flat in 2008 for the first time in 30 years because, "There’s no growth."

No political cover

City leaders lack the political grit to confront the no-growth crusaders. Proposed projects fade away despite the widespread benefits.

"A radical minority dictates city policy," says a SAHBA director. "There’s a handful of people who claim to represent neighborhoods but they really don’t. It’s always the same two or three people, who have become the city’s de facto planning department."

One way to restore balance is to give politicians political cover. Development dissenters should get 60 days to prove their claims about traffic, property values, and other concerns.

"Make neighborhoods do what developers are required to do. Pass a mandate that they prepare and pay for their own study," he said.

Bye-bye business, baseball, builders

Poor policies push away private enterprise.

Tucson’s anti-big-box ordinance has made it almost impossible to build a mega-retail store within the city limits. Unions fearing the competition from a giant Wal-Mart forced issue to become law.

The Tucson Metropolitan Chamber of Commerce said the regulation’s "anti-competitive measures" drive away much-needed jobs and goods for lower-income workers. As a result, the giant retailers skip to the outskirts, draining workforce jobs from inside the city. Labor demands fall for the blue-collar people who stay behind.

"Yes, we’ve benefitted," said a Marana official. "Businesses come our way because the ordinance scares them off."

In the entertainment business, the TCC is outdated. Issues include parking, traffic control, and panhandlers who harass patrons. Hence, booking agents opt for alternative venues at the casinos, the University of Arizona or resort hotels.

Major League Baseball’s spring training is in jeopardy with the Chicago White Sox planning to move to Glendale. If the Colorado Rockies stay in the region, they could move to Marana, vacating the city’s Hi Corbett Field. And the minor league Tucson Sidewinders are headed to Reno next year.

"Despite our hospitality, we don’t have national-quality facilities. We have nothing to sell," said a member of the Pima County Sports & Tourism Authority.

If Tucson Electric Park had gone downtown as was originally suggested, "private developers would have taken the initiative to revitalize everything around it," said a builder. "That inability to make a decision will forever haunt City Hall."

For builders, the City Council caves in too often to minor opposition. One developer offered this example:

Working with city staff, his company proposed what he called "a perfect infill project" on the eastside. The $4.5 million subdivision "was a compatible, quality project."

But while awaiting a final vote of the City Council, two neighbors told council members they didn’t want it and it was stopped.

"We had already invested $500,000 in it," he said. "That’s why I now refuse to do any business in the city."

The city "begs us to do public-private partnerships. But there is no public sector support when the final decision is made," added another builder. "They strangle us with red tape. They make us jump through hoops for a year, then kill a good project in one day."

Another builder views city offers to "possibly waive" infill fees as "bait and switch."

"They want to do it, but the factors in place, the staff, will not let it happen. There is desire to see infill but no desire to deal with the bureaucracy," he explained. "The problem is the process."

Public-private partnerships fizzle

Since the public sector cannot deliver two key items to the private sector, joint ventures often struggle. A former chairman of SAHBA spoke candidly:

"City officials have an incredible problem. They can’t get over the idea that a developer would come in as a partner and want to make a profit. They feel if the partnership is successful, they will be criticized for giving away too much."

Certainty is the second missing component. The city cannot ensure results, that a specific project it wants at a specific site will proceed in a timely manner. There are "too many false starts on fantasy," i.e., the UA’s Rainbow Bridge.

The selection process "is arbitrary, based on what might succeed," he said. "They study it, design it, then scrap it. So much has been spent on so little. The council needs to identify employees who are committed to achievable development, then set a framework in place to create an environment of some relative certainty."

For example, there are no statutory time limits on zoning requests. For permits, the tendency is to squeeze existing policies.

"Their goal is to amend and add requirements, not to approve projects. Nothing gets built because they just create more rules for staff to manage," he said.

Shared risk and control are two other disconnects. And last, developers have been burned by the city.

A case in point is an existing eastside subdivision. As an "implied" condition for approval, the developer "voluntarily" paid more than $30,000 for street improvements by his houses.

When his model homes were about to open, the city canceled the road project and kept his money. He considered suing, but faced legal fees and possible repercussions for his next development. Besides, he said, he was told that even after spending the money the city could "escape" a court case by issuing his refund just before going to trial.