Barnyard stench

City auditor believes something stinks at Samuell Farm Parkand it's not just the cow manure

Beginning last summer, Samuell Farm Park--the city-run petting zoo and favorite field trip for local schoolkids sent to commune with nature--became a severe migraine for the Dallas Department of Park and Recreation. Piles of rotting trash revealed illegal dumping amid the wildlife. Buried beneath the land was even more garbage, an archaeological record of chronic nature rape 30 feet deep.

Even after the Dallas Observer reported on attempts to cover up animal abuse, pollution, and questionable accounting practices at the 340-acre farm ("Crying fowl," March 4), farm management and park department staff discounted much of the story, attributing it to an angry ex-employee and her posse of overzealous animal lovers. But the Observer has obtained a March 3 memo sent from City Auditor Bob Melton to park department director Paul Dyer, which confirms that problems at Samuell Farm run much deeper than the park board previously admitted.

The six-page document--copied to the mayor, the city manager, the city council, and the president of the park board--outlines a track record of waste, neglect, and criminal fraud. More revelations could follow as the investigation continues. This interim information, writes Melton, is simply to address issues that require "immediate attention."

The Samuell Farm memo is the first time the auditor's office has released an interim report regarding a city park under investigation. "This is not a conclusive report," says Dyer. "[The auditor] is still trying to validate some of it, and we're still trying to verify that information too."

The memo points out four major dumpsites on the property, along with several smaller ones. Found amid the wide expanse of trees, ponds, and wildflowers were lumber, plastic, engines, portable toilets, washing machines, fuel pump dispensers, fencing, 55-gallon drums, and "street spoils" such as concrete and petroleum-based asphalt. None of these belongs in North Mesquite Creek, where much of it was dumped.

Within the first two weeks of a cleanup attempt, the city removed 92 truckloads of material from the farm and sent it to the city's real landfill a few miles away in East Dallas. The auditor discovered other waste as well, including $9,300 worth of mold-covered, rotted hay. If ingested by the animals, writes Melton, citing the Samuell Farm staff manual, it could "cause abortion, colic, or death." Prior to 1991, when current farm manager Doug Melton (no relation to Bob Melton) took control, the farm grew its own hay and sold what its animals didn't consume for a small profit. But for most of this decade, the farm has elected instead to purchase it from a contractor for $155 per round bale.

"The Farm is not properly maintained," the report continues. A windmill, the farm's historic landmark, "deteriorated to a degree that it had to be removed by order of the United States Department of Agriculture because it had become a hazard to livestock."

Located outside Dallas city limits on a rural nook of city land wedged between Mesquite and Sunnyvale, Samuell Farm has never faced enforcement of building codes and city ordinances. "The Farm has allowed building projects to proceed with no plans, budgets, or city building inspections," says the memo.

One of the more beleaguered structures has been a maintenance barn, which the farm began building after failing its first-ever USDA inspection in December. In January, a leaky pipe that went unrepaired for three days--farm staff said it couldn't find the shut-off valve--severely damaged the foundation. According to the auditor, it will cost nearly $18,000 to repair. Completion of the maintenance barn has been put on hold.

Perhaps even more problematic is what the city found when it dug through Samuell Farm's books--what there is of them. The memo cited an absence of control ledgers, required by park department policy, to track incoming materials, equipment, feed, and cash. It also questioned the use of the farm's 800 number. Auditor Bob Melton found at least $400 worth of personal calls received on this publicly funded line. This problem was actually caught in October, and the city demanded reimbursement for the calls. Although farm manager Doug Melton partly repaid the city by sending a check for $59.08, the memo says, "From review of the January 1999 phone records, it appears that the 800 number is still being used for personal matters."

That's small change, however, compared to the questionable earnings of former farm employee Billy Pon, who allegedly defrauded $22,500 from the city. Pon, a friend of Doug Melton's, began working on the farm staff in 1995. His duties required him to work at the "Haunted Barn," a kid-friendly special event held each Halloween. But that didn't stop him and his company, the Skeleton Crew, from receiving several contracts to organize the event.

"He was double-dipping all right," says Jim Stewart, former president of the Samuell Farm advisory council. In 1993 and 1994, this group of volunteers did most of the work for the Haunted Barn. That second year, they raised $17,000 from the event. A couple of months later, when Stewart began asking what had happened to the money, he received a letter from farm manager Melton saying the city had disbanded the volunteer group. The park department, however, claims the group disbanded itself. Regardless, Samuell Farm is now the only city park without a citizen's advisory council. And dismissing the volunteers enabled Pon and his company to take over the event, which, beginning in 1995, was costing the city more to run than ever before.

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