"We were looking at this," Carter says, "and Hunt would say this would really be bad for him. It knocks out his high-rises that he wants to build. And I said, 'well, there is another thing.'"
Carter told Hunt about a vision he had. To build an arena that was as majestic as the new Ballpark in Arlington--with an enormous circular entryway off Reunion Boulevard, across from the Hyatt, filled with fountains and lush landscaping and Texas flags. The arena would rise on the other side of the Jefferson Boulevard viaduct, but it would attach onto the Houston Street viaduct, which would be transformed into a magnificent, grand entryway to the new arena--with stunning porticos that shimmer in the sun, and "humongous" towers that reach high into the sky, and restaurants and shops on the first level of the parking garage.
"This goddamn Ballpark in Arlington causes me pain," Carter told me, after drawing his vision out on paper for me--just as he had for Hunt. "I'm a fan, but I'm not an authority on ballparks. But the people who are authorities say this one fits in with the legendary ones. And I want one for myself."
Carter told Hunt he would throw his considerable weight behind the "Lot E" site--a tract the billionaire presumably had thought the city, because of the convention center conflict, would never consider.
When Carter left his meeting with Hunt that day, he called John Ware.
The owner of the Dallas Mavericks told the city manager that he and Ray Hunt wanted the city to switch the site it had selected, after months of study, for the new arena.
Which didn't faze Ware a bit.
"John Ware," says Donald Carter, "has been open 100 percent."
After arriving at work on November 11, Louise Elam began putting the finishing touches on her letter to councilman Stimson, explaining all the reasons why the new arena could not be built on Ray Hunt's "Lot E," adjacent to the convention center.
Hours later, she and her boss were told instead to ask the city's consultants to quickly begin providing justification for switching the arena to that site. And to tell the consultants that they might not get paid.
Elam--already burned once in a strikingly similar situation--had apparently had enough. That day, records show, she wrote a letter to her boss, interim public works director Jill Jordan, asking to have nothing further to do with the new arena. Elam cited her other work obligations in her request.
Jordan backed her request in a letter to the city manager's office. On December 6, the word came back: she would not be reassigned.
Donald Carter continues to negotiate with the city for the construction of a new arena. Though he has offered to contribute $65 million, he insists on the demolition of 15-year-old Reunion Arena (an unpopular idea with councilmembers and citizens) and the construction of a new multimillion-dollar city parking garage (also unpopular, because the city's existing arena garage loses millions).
Carter continues to publicly flaunt the option of moving his team to a new arena in Lewisville, though he insists he would like to reach a deal with John Ware when the city manager returns to work in mid-January.
Carter says he prefers to build a new arena in Dallas, and that the project needs the Dallas Stars as a second tenant. He also says he doesn't want a partner in the new arena and expects "someone with money" to buy the hockey team from troubled owner Norm Green--the man who started the new-arena drive in the first place. It is a combination of observations sure to fuel speculation that Carter will buy the team himself.
Hunt spokesman Jim Oberwetter says his boss believes any new arena should be downtown, but that "the city should be the one who decides where it should go."
City councilwoman Donna Blumer, meanwhile, says she has gotten the message about the arena from her angry constituents.
But as she explained her feelings to them in November at the Walnut Hill Recreation Center, she confessed that many councilmembers lack the courage to buck the city bureaucracy, and to stand up to business leaders like Ray Hunt.
"I can tell you letters and faxes make a big difference," Blumer advised the group. "Fax. Write. And don't stop. We really need it. We need the backbone...So give us backbone."
Later, when the meeting was over, Blumer walked toward the front doors of the recreation center, shaking her head. "You know what really surprised me?" she said. "When they said that they felt like no one was in charge. That really hit me."
Blumer knew why they felt like that--because all too often, she felt like that, too. What was unnerving about it was that she was supposed to be able to change that. She had run for office to change that.
"But if we do make enough noise--and enough stink--about this, something can happen," Blumer said, standing outside the center, watching the last of her frustrated constituents drive away. "I really believe that.
