Part 5 of a 5 part series
As I stated in my initial chapter, my two stories span some 35 years. The first, about the seemingly impossible but successful library campaign, unfolded in the mid-1960s in western Pennsylvania. My second story, about Montana ranchers seeking to protect their environment and way of life, occurred in the early 1990s, some 35 years later. While these two stories are remarkably different in time, distance, and scope, I believe they share a common thread. The common thread is that a concept, an idea, or a vision, shared by neighbors can unite them in collective action, sometimes with surprising results.
Fast forward many years later and 1900 miles west of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, to an old country schoolhouse in the Boulder River Valley of Jefferson County, Montana, not far from the State capital Helena. I was under contract with the county to assist the planning commission in preparing a comprehensive countywide plan. I was conducting the first of three back-to-back evening meetings with residents of what was mostly a farm and ranch community. The purpose of the meetings was to listen to the concerns of residents living in various sectors of the county.
You measured the size of farms and ranches by land sections. Each land section equaled 640 acres, so the area's population density was low. When a crowd of several dozen families attended the first meeting, you knew that crowd represented more than 50% of the residents in that portion of the Valley. They arrived with their coffee urns, flatware, baskets of cakes and pies, and mounds of cookies. Typical of rural Montana, the meeting was not only about serious business but also a social gathering for entire families, including children. I came from rural Kansas, so this was familiar to me.
I set up my standard newsprint pad and felt-tip marker. I opened the conversation by flipping to the first page and printing at the top "What We Like…." I turned to the crowd. Silence. Finally, a voice from a few rows back said, "I can tell you what we don't like." I flipped to the paper's second page and wrote: "What We Don't Like." I turned back to the crowd and said, "And that is?" He responded, "We don't like outsiders coming in and telling us what to do," which I wrote word-for-word on the pad.
I heard a few chuckles, and when I looked, I saw a few embarrassed looks and eye-rolls. I smiled and said, "Any thoughts for either page?" I conducted scores of public meetings over a nearly 40-year career, many attended by hundreds of agitated and often well-lubricated folks. I was not easily intimidated. Any tension that might have existed in the room instantly disappeared when one of the young children piped up with, "I like my horse," which I carefully recorded on the Like page. Suddenly folks felt comfortable presenting their concerns and ideas in positive communication with each other and me.
One of the property owners asked me, "What are you going to do about those darn subviders?" I was momentarily at a loss by the term "subvider." Still, the stir in the room clearly indicated this was a hot-button issue. I suddenly realized my questioner was referring to the subdivision of land. With this understanding, I realized I had an opportunity to suggest a controversial "tool" that was available to them.
But first, a brief explanation of the problem is necessary. My questioner was referring to the unscrupulous practice of some real estate salespeople buying large land parcels, often distressed for various reasons, and subdividing them into 20-acre lots by metes and bounds description. Metes and bounds parcel descriptions are one way to avoid more costly engineered land surveys.
The salespeople used colorful magazine ads in national publications to attract interested buyers. They then used high-pressure tactics to force a sale of the land sight unseen and sold the properties with contract-for-deed sales agreements. A buyer enters into a contract to buy the property without a transfer of title. The buyer pays the seller in installments, typically monthly and over many years. The amount includes principal and interest. If the buyer "defaulted" (failed to meet contract payments), the contract would be declared null and void, and the seller would retain the property plus all payments made until the date of default.
This subdivision and sales process was never subject to review by any agency of government, nor were the parcels staked on the land. They could be on a steep mountain face or in the middle of a river since neither prospective purchasers nor public review agencies would ever have the opportunity to see the land until the contract was satisfied.
All of these practices were "legal," albeit unsavory. Moreover, no one, certainly not county officials, knew about the transactions until some buyers paid their contracts in full and received their titles. The new owners showed up at the courthouse to register their deeds. Although most buyers eventually grew wise to the scheme and defaulted on their contracts, the "subviders" resold the parcels to other unsuspecting buyers.
Scattered recorded parcels began showing up, and the new owners demanded that the county build access roads to their properties and schools for their children, all at taxpayers' expense. The assembled farmers and ranchers erupted in colorful descriptions of these problems. They had had their fill of these land deals and the state legislature's failure, on multiple occasions, to close the "20-acre metes and bounds" loophole in state law.
Recognizing the problem and its opportunity, I edged over to the exit door. "My answer to your question about what I'm going to do about the problem is, in a word, nothing because I don't have the authority to do anything. But I can tell you what you can do, but you have to let me get a head start when I say the "Z" word." I shouted "Zoning" as I hit the panic bar on the door.
There were a few groans of "Zoning????" but laughter at my door antics. Land-use zoning in Montana is seen by many as the government overreaching its authority, and many view it negatively, vehemently so.
I came back to my flip chart and talked about what I had in mind. I discussed that Montana had a provision in its body of law that permitted a group of property owners within an unincorporated area to petition their county commission to form an emergency zoning district and code serving their interests, with certain conditions. Zoning could protect the county and its citizens from indiscriminate property subdivision and guide orderly future growth and development.
I further stated that the County Attorney was the final authority on the specific provisions of the emergency zoning district. I thought that a minimum lot size of a quarter section (180 acres), a half section (320 acres), or even a whole section (640 acres) would work with the long-range plan's goals and objectives. Establishing significantly larger minimum-size parcels would choke land speculation. The suggestion stimulated much conversation and another round of cookies and cake.
The meeting the following evening covered the middle portion of the Valley. Even more folks, including many from the previous evening, showed up. I briefly focused on the question and answer period, but the first-night crowd soon prevailed on me to talk about the "Z" word. The third night, held in the lower section of the Valley, drew local folks and those from the two previous meetings. The "Z" word discussions mirrored those of the last evenings.
I attended the planning commission's regular Monday meeting a week or two later. The commission's agenda called for brief reports from members from the various sectors. The chairperson attended all three Boulder Valley meetings and invited the three Valley sector representatives to join him in presenting a short report. The commission members were intrigued by the report but astonished, as was I, by the subsequent action. The chair stated that following the three meetings, a group of owners in attendance had met to discuss the emergency zoning concept, prepared a petition, and submitted it to the County Commissioners. When asked how many had signed the petition, he replied, "57 owners of approximately 22,500 acres." And "they want Keith to be their land use planner." I was no longer an outsider!
Many positive actions transpired in the subsequent year. We completed the county's long-range plan, and the elected officials adopted it. The property owners retained my services to coordinate the preparation of the Boulder Valley Zoning District. The elected official adopted that too. Most of the district was zoned 1 residential unit per 640 acres. The Boulder Valley planning and zoning action soon became headline news in the Helena Independent Record newspaper. Predictably, a majority of the Montana legislature voted to end the land sales speculation in the next legislative session.
A concept, an idea, or a vision, shared by many people can unite them in collective action, sometimes with surprising results. With creative and skillful organization and using available tools, people can not only solve their shared problem but also achieve enduring results that enhance the lives of hundreds for generations.
A formula for success.
Learn the basics.
Grow through disappointment.
Work with the opposition.
Do your homework.
Stay in the solution.
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