Maybe we should reduce the term limit to one
by Matt Edens
I doubt it's much of a surprise, but I supported the Demolition by Neglect ordinance passed by City Council last week as an emergency measure. Yet there was a certain irony in the way the ordinance was passed—a late-in-the-game Hail Mary as the final seconds of hizzoner's final City Council meeting ticked away. The reason was buried in a point that supporters of the ordinance made in deflecting accusations that it was simply a means to punish Cherokee Country Club in their ongoing battle over the J. Allen Smith House on Lyons View Pike. Demolition by Neglect legislation, they explained, was first proposed in the 1987 Cultural Resources Plan prepared by MPC and adopted by both City Council and County Commission.
First proposed in 1987—finally passed in 2003. Interesting how those dates frame a certain mayor's term of office?
Personally I've always been a bit mystified by Ashe's sudden emergence as the tireless champion of historic preservation. After all, he is the same mayor who, during his 1999 campaign, cited the literally hundreds of vacant and abandoned houses demolished by Codes Enforcement as one of the proudest accomplishments of his tenure (somewhere out there is an irate letter to the editor I wrote on account of that comment). Few were mansions, and most were in parts of town many members of Cherokee Country Club would only venture into with their car doors locked—if at all. But private owners also tore down mansions of the Smith House's caliber on Mayor Ashe's watch: the Bonnyman house (the former Teen Board) on Kingston Pike and Belcaro on Black Oak Ridge. Same goes for the old Mann Mortuary on Church Street downtown, originally the town house of one J. Allen Smith.
And then there's the question of whether—if the city had passed the Demolition by Neglect ordinance way back in '87—its provisions might have been turned against the city itself. Once again there was a clue to be found in last Tuesday's meeting. During a long self-congratulatory list of his achievements, Ashe mentioned the recently completed McCallie Park in 4th and Gill, which no doubt drew a chuckle from 4th and Gill resident and City Councilman Rob Frost (drive by this "accomplishment" at the corner of Gratz and Gill and you'll see why—paybacks are a bitch). But there's more to it than that. The new park occupies the site of the old McCallie School—built in 1907 and closed before the city-county school consolidation. Vacant and abandoned, the old school was still city property when the roof collapsed during the blizzard of '93, when it caught fire not long afterwards, and when it was subsequently torn down. And McCallie wasn't the only historic remnant of the old city school system lost during Ashe's tenure. McCampbell on Emoriland Boulevard, Beardsley in Mechanicsville and old Austin High and Park-Lowry in East Knoxville were likewise demolished—either by the city or the owner the city transferred the property to with full knowledge of the planned demolition.
Downtown saw similar indifference until hizzoner's last term. In last week's retrospective cover story, Joe Sullivan rightfully commended Ashe for the recent use of tax abatement to spur loft renovation projects such as the Sterchi and Emporium buildings. What he tactfully didn't mention was that abatement, like the Demolition by Neglect ordinance, was proposed much earlier in Ashe's tenure—in 1994—but failed to capture the mayor's mercurial attention.
A broader, but more significant missed opportunity was the failure—again until quite recently—to recognize the emerging alternative lifestyle trends of the 1990's that numerous other cities, including Asheville and Chattanooga, tapped into to fuel downtown revival. It's a trend that during Ashe's first term surfaced spontaneously here in the Old City, only to subsequently languish, in part due to a lack of nurturing by the city. Likewise, the revived inner-city neighborhoods such as Old North or 4th and Gill, where, surprisingly, Ashe kicked off his '87 campaign. Their current strength has much more to do with the determination of their residents than the city's support. Somewhere, in an alternate universe, there's a shockingly successful Knoxville whose much-beloved, pear-shaped chief executive (sporting a goatee, naturally) had the foresight to back a winner when he saw it (oh, and since his enamored constituents overwhelmingly voted down term limits, he's embarking on an unprecedented fifth term in office too).
Don't believe me? Consider the remarkable strides made these past four years: the aforementioned loft renovations downtown; the renovation of Market Square; the hands-down success of Sundown in the City; protective zoning for the battered remains of Fort Sanders; and a growing amount of interest by the mainstream business and development community in downtown's success (which, other than a pretty nifty park, is the primary benefit I see so far from $160 million in convention center debt).
Amazing what a sense that you're lacking in the legacy department can accomplish. Which leaves me thinking one thing—if you'll allow me to paraphrase Flannery O'Connor: He'd have been a good mayor, if only every term had been his last.
December 18, 2003 * Vol. 13, No. 51
© 2003 Metro Pulse
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