Metro Pulse/Ear to the Ground

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Give or Take $50 Million

All of Worsham Watkins International's submissions to the Public Building Authority supporting its redevelopment plan describe it as a $370 million undertaking—$240 million in private investment plus $130 million in city funding for so-called infrastructure. When coupled with the $160 million the city is shelling out for its new convention center, that adds up to a $530 million total tab. But in that razzle-dazzle presentation at the Tennessee Theatre in late June, Ron Watkins heralded a grand total of $600 million, and he's stuck by that figure ever since. And the daily paper keeps talking about "$310 million" in private investment. So what accounts for the $70 million difference?

When asked, Watkins at first ascribes it to an extension of the redevelopment area to include the west side of Gay Street's bedraggled 400 block. But then he acknowledges that investment on that block probably won't exceed the $6 million budget for renovations on Market Square. There's an additional $20 million contemplated for a kiddie attraction at the north end of the World's Fair Park—waterslides, bumper cars, and so forth (but, of course, nothing like Pigeon Forge). And then, let's see, there's a need to make allowances for cost overruns. But WW has previously claimed that such contingencies are covered in the $36 million management fee it's seeking for overseeing the whole shebang.

All this from a guy who claims to be intimately familiar with plans for every square foot of the proposed redevelopment. But heck, $600 million sure sounds nice.

Put Meetings Where the Sun Doesn't Shine

The notice said, clearly enough, that the County Election Commission would meet at 3:30 p.m. Nov. 13 in the County Courthouse to "review...the voting machine processes from election night to clarify problems, solutions and preventive measures." Come Monday afternoon at the courthouse, however, the meeting morphed rapidly into a pumpkin. No meeting was held; it became a "diagnostics review," quoth Steve Roth of the election commission.

The phantom meeting was prompted by the fact that, in the wake of last week's election, a number of the county's voting cartridges were unreadable, at least at the outset. The snafu points back to the company that provided Knox County's election-day computer set-up, Danaher Controls, Inc. And it seems that when Danaher sales account manager Matthew Lilly saw members of the press eager to attend Monday's convening, he got flustered and disappeared into a hall to speak less publicly with commissioners.

The trim, suspendered Roth looked a little nervous, but he equivocated nicely. "We're not really having a meeting...," he backpedaled. He went on to assure us that the commission hadn't expected to deliberate, but gave notice of a meeting anyway "to be sure and comply with the Sunshine Law."

We now await, with bated breath, the results of the non-meeting when the Election Commission holds another non-session on Monday, Nov. 20 at the courthouse.

More Balls than Sense

Last Friday, Leopold Adler, the preservationist responsible for much of Savannah's renaissance—who appeared as a character in the blockbuster nonfiction novel Midnight In the Garden Of Good And Evil—was in town speaking to a large crowd in the KMA auditorium. He was offering a warning about developers' promises when he showed an unexpected slide of an especially ugly downtown Savannah IHOP. "We were told it would fit in," he said, and, turning away from his text, gestured in the general direction of the Sunsphere. "I bet you were told that globe out there would fit in, too," he said. The 77-year-old later added, in his genteel South Georgia drawl, "I love your city, and the river. I hope to come back with my wife, and I hope that ball is gone." Could it be he did not catch a glimpse of the giant basketball looming above the roofline of the Women's Basketball Hall of Fame just across the downtown?

Is It Too Late for a Recount?

The news media have reminded us of several weird tales from the annals of the electoral college lately, but when the News-Sentinel offered a list of them on Sunday, we were surprised that they skipped the peculiar campaign of the guy who's buried practically across the street from their office. Hugh Lawson White would once have been happy to see an electoral-college stalemate.

In 1836, the newly formed Whigs despaired of defeating President Andrew Jackson's heir apparent, Martin Van Buren, in a legitimate election. So they tried to scotch the Electoral College by running three candidates popular in three different regions: Daniel Webster, William Henry Harrison, and Knoxvillian White. By preventing Van Buren from earning a majority of the electoral votes, they thought, they could force the election into the House of Representatives where the Whig-dominated Congress could pick a president of their liking.

It might have been a more memorable tactic if it had worked. White came in third in the four-man race, with 10 percent of the popular vote, a figure Ralph Nader would have envied. He would have done better if so many of his supporters, including White propagandist Davy Crockett, hadn't just died at the Alamo. White carried only Georgia and (despite the president's vigorous campaign against him) Jackson's home state of Tennessee, for 26 electoral votes. White and his anybody-but-Van Buren cohorts polled almost 50 percent of the popular vote, and were able to chalk up 124 electoral votes. Van Buren won handily with 170.