By Jim Schutze
By Rachel Watts
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
By Anna Merlan
By Lee Escobedo
By Eric Nicholson
So by now you already know City Hall is a magic show, where all the tricks are based on misdirection. Misdirection is when they get you to focus on the pretty girl in a harem suit so you won't see the trap door.
We're about to get a good example. In this act the pretty girl in a harem suit will be Ted Benavides, Dallas city manager, who is about to disappear before our very eyes. The trap door--the thing they don't want us to watch--is a huge transit decision that can either turn downtown into a crapped-out Vaudeville house or turn the lights on like Broadway.
Benavides is gone. The only question is how soon. The mayor wants him gone now. But she's at her usual voting strength of a third of what it takes. That's going to have to be our new nickname for her, if we do T-shirts. "Laura (a third of what it takes) Miller."
A strong majority on the council feel loyalty toward Benavides but believe he does have to go sometime soon. They think The Dallas Morning News is out to get him in ways he and they can't survive. But they also know that the big things being pinned on him--especially the city's scary backlog of sewer, water and street repairs--are not his fault.
For his sake, they want him to go with dignity. For their own sakes, they want him to go in a way that won't allow the mayor to claim a scalp. He'll ring the cash register in November on his big pension anniversary date, and it'll be adios, amigos soon after that.
Both sides will act as if this is the most amazing and astounding spectacle ever brought to the American stage, performed here for the first time since its discovery on ancient stone tablets recently unearthed in the long-lost tomb of Nabobkadoozer. They will urge us to keep our eyes on the maiden at all times.
Please. That's no maiden. That's Ted Benavides. One city manager goes. Another one shows up. It's just a guy in a job.
Here's the thing to watch: the second DART train line through downtown. And just to save you some time, let me telegraph my punch line here a little: If it goes down Elm Street, preferably in a subway, the new rail line has the potential to create that wonder of wonders--life without automobiles! We could see an explosion of downtown population and commerce unlike anything this or any other Western inland metropolis has seen since the arrival of the railroads in the late 19th century.
That is not what the prestidigitators want to do. Forget all the costumes and the outlandish stage names. Forget "Laura Miller, mayor of Dallas, former tabloid terminatrix, scourge of the gentry." Think of her as "Laura, handmaiden to Robert," as in Robert Decherd, chairman and CEO of Belo Corp., owner of The Dallas Morning News.
Decherd wants a second rail alignment down Jackson Street on downtown's far south side, bringing the trains right through the southwest corner of downtown where Belo and the Decherd/Dealey clan hold most of their land.
If Decherd gets his way, downtown is dead. Within a few years the last brave restaurants will close their doors, and downtown will return to its normal status as a bus stop/urinal. You don't want to talk about urine? OK, let's talk about "what is a second rail alignment?" Excellent question.
DART and the city of Dallas have a contract with each other, called an interlocal agreement, requiring DART to build a second rail line through downtown when train traffic on the Pacific Avenue Mall through downtown reaches a certain level. Think about it. Car traffic has to stop for trains. If you get to the point where the trains whizzing up and down Pacific are so thick they form a virtual wall, then cars and trucks can never get through them to cross downtown.
And even if you put a second line down Elm Street, which is the next street over, it does more or less the same thing. Getting through the trains whizzing up and down Elm and then the trains whizzing up and down Pacific a block away would be like a nightmare video game, "Train Frogger."
"Hey, where's Mom?"
"Sorry, son, we won't be seeing Mom again. She drove...DOWNTOWN."
One solution--the bad one--is to move the second line four blocks south, across town to Decherdville, by bringing it down Jackson Street. Why is that bad? Oh, just this: If you want to switch from line to line, you'd have to walk four blocks through the 130-degree Fahrenheit and the going-to-the-toi-toi people.
Even if some kind of dumb buslet is provided to bump you back and forth from line to line, it's a bunch of waiting outdoors. People won't do it. There are algorithms for this: It's called "impedance" in transit talk. Bottlenecks. Create a certain magnitude of hassle, and people will not use the system. They certainly won't base a whole new lifestyle on it. Instead, the rail system will be relegated forever to brown-baggers on the way to work instead of cosmopolites out for dinner and a play.