Annino has spent the last year putting a face on the improvement district: his face. He's president of the nonprofit Deep Ellum Association, which favors the special taxing district. If the district wins city council approval, property owners within its boundaries will pay an additional $100,000 in taxes annually over the next seven years to upgrade maintenance, security, marketing, and landscaping.
But as Annino has found, winning political support from the varied collection of businesspeople in the neighborhood is a hard sell. The Deep Ellum Association first tried to create the PID last year, hiring a consultant and mailing out petitions to each business owner.
None of the petitions was returned.
"The rules are that we have to get enough owners to sign to represent 50 percent of the value and 50 percent of the area," says Annino, a former tennis pro who sells commercial real estate in Deep Ellum with the Delphi Group. "We got the legwork done, and it moved down the line, but it couldn't get over the hump."
Temporarily thwarted by the apathy that might be expected from the kind of iconoclasts that gravitate to an area like Deep Ellum, Annino says he spent this year doing what he's good at: a quiet kind of face-to-face negotiation and gentle arm-twisting for a cause he believes in.
"A fairly small investment now will eventually pay off for everybody," he says, summing up his pitch to the neighborhood. "And the city's not going to help us if we can't get this passed."
Annino visited every property owner on the city's tax rolls within the district to encourage them to sign. He persuaded the major owners to sign on first then used peer pressure to get the balance he needed for the proposal to reach City Hall. He even changed the map of the proposed district -- now a strangely whale-shaped outline of a neighborhood bounded by the Texas & Pacific Railroad on the north, Taylor Street on the south, Exposition on the east and Pacific and Central Expressway on the west -- when industrial property owners on Canton wouldn't play. He cajoled, then he compromised, and now he'll speak on behalf of the project next week at City Hall. He hopes the people who still oppose the PID won't bother to show up. He hopes he can still show his face around the neighborhood after it's all over.
Apathy and skepticism may have plagued the improvement district proposal at first, but real opposition in Dallas' "alternative" neighborhood followed.
"It's always the money," Annino says. To pay for the district, property owners would be taxed an extra 12 cents per $100 in property value, and Annino computes the hit for a $1 million property at "only" $1,200 annually. But as unhappy as opponents were about paying more taxes, he says, they had other gripes that characterized something more intensely unique to the area that Annino calls the soul of Dallas. That was the Deep Ellum mentality -- an in-your-face inner being that encourages independence and discourages conformity. PID opponents in the neighborhood didn't want to fork over any more money for taxes, and they didn't want to work together, and they didn't want to turn Deep Ellum into Sundance Square, Fort Worth's squeaky-clean, family-friendly antithesis of Deep Ellum.
"It'll never be Sundance Square," Annino says. "For one thing, they put $10 million into Sundance Square, and the PID won't generate even $1 million over seven years."
Still, Annino and the Deep Ellum Association want curbside, directional kiosks for tourists, and they want to get rid of graffiti, stickers on streets signs, and the nails and old club fliers that cover utility poles. He supports a neighborhood cleanup that could bring more traffic to the arts and entertainment district that's hopping by night, deserted by day. He wants the growing number of people who live in Deep Ellum to feel safe. And he wants to put the neighborhood's best foot forward to new developers.
He wants to do all that yet preserve the bohemian soul of the city. He thinks the Deep Ellum Association can do it with an extra hundred thousand each year, plus the leverage the neighborhood will have with the city once it proves it can get organized, stay on task, and get something accomplished. "Let me tell you what it really means," Annino says. "For the first time, we'll be able to go over to the city and do deals and share costs. Every time I went to the city and asked for money before, they'd say we've got other places that need money, and you're just one guy. They're telling me you're one neighborhood and we've got all these neighborhoods that need a lot more than you do."