By Jim Schutze
By Rachel Watts
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
By Anna Merlan
By Lee Escobedo
How many people in those beautiful houses on deep lots along Forest Hills Boulevard near White Rock Lake want to see a Blockbuster Video store on their street? Who knows, maybe a tanning salon. Or a couple nice big apartment blocks.
Because it could happen. Believe it. There's a political freight train running through City Hall right now called the "comprehensive plan" for Dallas. We're one of the few large cities in America that doesn't have one.
But who wants this one? One of the things it calls for is retail and apartment re-development of a swath a quarter-mile deep along Garland Road where it runs by the spillway. That would take in Forest Hills Boulevard.
And how do you feel about just bending over backward to load the city up with more and more apartments? That's the major thrust of the so-called comprehensive plan.
This plan is all concept, like lecture notes from Planning 101. It looks like something you could plop down on Seattle. In fact, I just came back from a wedding there: It looks sort of like Seattle. But it does not look like anything that grew organically out of what is on the ground now in Dallas, Texas. It's more like a textbook overlay imposed on a map of the city.
But stop me. Let me tell you what they are going to tell you about me. I have been going to the hearings, and I know how this goes. The people pushing this plan will say about me:
"That guy at the Dallas Observer is a total nutcase! The comprehensive plan doesn't call for any of that stuff he says it calls for! It's all about preserving stable neighborhoods and fostering healthy change where change is good. That man needs to get his medications back in balance."
OK, true: It does not call for a Blockbuster Video store on Forest Hills Boulevard or dry cleaners every quarter-mile through Preston Hollow. We're not talking about anyone deliberately setting about to wreak havoc. We are talking about people facilitating havoc by opening the door to a host of unintended consequences.
Michael Jung is a zoning attorney who, along with former city council member Larry Duncan, was a lead warrior 20 years ago in the whole creation of a neighborhood movement in Dallas and in the massive rezoning of the city to defend stable neighborhoods. He's got the scars.
First, Jung and others like him think people who already live and own property in a neighborhood should get first dibs on what happens there. In other words, people far away from them--bureaucrats, planners, land speculators, necromancers--should not be able to wave their Harry Potter wands at a single-family residential neighborhood and say, "Poof! I dub thee apartments and retail!"
Second, Jung knows how hard you have to work to find out what the businesses and homeowners in an area want. "Take Lakewood Shopping Center," he said. "A long time ago, 15-plus years ago, they did a land use plan for Lakewood Shopping Center.
"It took probably six months. They invited people from all the nearby neighborhoods, and they invited the businesses. We all sat around at tables and worked out what our shared vision of Lakewood Shopping Center was going to be and eventually came to a reasonable degree of compromise. And a planned development district was put in place that today governs Lakewood Shopping Center."
Jung says the comprehensive plan about to come to the city council is not based on this same kind of arduous consensus-building. But it includes a map of major changes for neighborhoods and areas all over the city, apparently reflecting the wishes of city staff and the city's consultant, Fregonese Calthorpe Associates of Portland, Oregon.
"The way the Lakewood Shopping Center-type places got whatever designation they got on that map was that somebody at City Hall or in Portland, Oregon, I don't know which, just slapped it on there."
At the hearings I have attended and in the documents I have read, city staff and the consultant insist that there is no map. They say the thing Jung calls a map is only a "vision illustration," and they insist it is not a binding zoning document.
But Jung has been around the block a few times and knows how this stuff plays out in the real world. He gives the example again of Lakewood Shopping Center: Imagine there was no planned development district in place, and 15 years from now everybody who's at City Hall now is dead, retired or in Washington working for President Miller. So imagine people in the Lakewood area decide they want a plan.
Jung says no matter what anybody calls the map now--vision illustration, ink blot, bubblegum joke--developers will use it as a statement of city policy in the future.
"So we convene one of these six-month processes," Jung says. "Whoever it is that likes what the guy from Portland, Oregon, painted onto Lakewood Shopping Center 15 years ago will hold that up and say, 'Game, set and match. The official policy of the city of Dallas is that I should get what I want for Lakewood Shopping Center.'"