Governing Magazine/November 2001 GLIMPSES ROBO-DUCKS SHOT DOWN What flirts these mortals be! Humans have tried for millennia to lure ducks closer to them for hunting purposes. But today's high-tech devices are making the task so easy that the state of Washington recently banned the use of electronic decoys. Archeological evidence shows that Native Americans used decoys that were quite effective at bringing prey closer, and there is still an active collectors' market seeking out the hand-carved wooden decoys that were part of many settlers' basic equipment. A few years ago, decoys took an evolutionary leap into electronics, with battery- operated models now marketed under such names as WonderDuck, Widdow Maker and Mojo Mallard. What makes these devices so enticing to the ducks is that they spin. Some are made to look like ducks, but others are just flat ovals that spin around, showing white on one side and black or brown on the other. Apparently, to a duck, the flashing images that result look like another duck coming in for a landing. Although these decoys tend to lose their effectiveness over time, and there is no evidence that the devices pose a long-term threat to duck populations, many hunters and others are concerned that the decoys wrecked the ethical concept of "fair chase." In August, the Washington Fish and Wildlife Commission imposed the first state ban on the devices. (Pennsylvania already had a wider ban in place against using electronics in hunting waterfowl.) The prohibition has generated some consternation from legislators who feel it unfairly robs hunters of a tool. "If you have the sophistication to be able to use a mechanical decoy," says Washington state Representative Jim Buck, "you're probably going to be good enough at duck hunting to get your limit whether you've got a decoy or you don't." --Alan Greenblatt SEPARATION OF POWERS North Carolina Governor Mike Easley, reporting on what he has learned about dealing with the state legislature during his first year in office: "It has been a lot like teaching a class, where you can only move as fast as the slowest student." HOLDING THE LINE ON FINES Fifty dollars went a long way in the era of the horse and buggy. But issuing a $50 fine in the 21st century, as a penalty for potentially dangerous municipal code infractions, doesn't seem like much of a deterrent. Yet, under a Tennessee constitutional provision set in 1796, that is the maximum amount the Metropolitan government of Nashville and Davidson County can impose as punishment, according to a ruling issued by the state Supreme Court in September. A higher amount could be imposed by a jury. The problem is, the courts handling municipal violations don't have the authority to impanel a jury. And so the $50 limit, which survived two constitutional revisions in the 19th century, stands. "The language in the Tennessee constitution is pretty clear," says Karl Dean, director of law for the Metro government. But he also notes, "A $50 limitation that may have made a world of sense in 1796 has not kept up with the level of inflation in 2001." According to the Consumer Price Index, $50 in 1800 would equate to $523 today. In fact, Tennessee municipalities had been issuing higher fines for decades, calling them penalties or civil debt, rather than fines or punishment as was prohibited by the constitution. But the recent Supreme Court ruling overturned a 1964 decision allowing such a semantic two-step. Since the ruling is so recent, municipalities are still sorting out what they can and cannot do, fine-wise. Some officials think it might be possible to make the case that penalties higher than $50 are "remedial" rather than punitive because they compensate the city for some loss or expense. --Ellen Perlman CATTLE BATTLE In a state known for rodeos and livestock, it's hard to imagine that a dispute would arise over one additional cow. But that's just what has happened in Texas since Fort Worth, fondly known as "Cowtown," unveiled its new logo. The controversy started when a resident telephoned City Hall to ask why Molly the Cow looked so much like the University of Texas' longtime mascot, Bevo the Longhorn. The caller alleged possible copyright infringements and noted that UT brings in significant revenue based on its prominent and popular steer. The university supporters' gripe was not so much with the shape of the image as the color. Occasionally, on official city letterheads and coffee mugs, Molly appeared a distinctive burnt-orange, just like Bevo. City Attorney David Yett says that Molly is meant to be brown, just as she has been for years on the front of the Livestock Exchange Building in the Fort Worth Stockyards. But sometimes, in the course of Molly's conversion into a digital image, she turns out orange. "What looks brown on the screen prints out orange on the laser printer," Yett says. In the end, Molly probably won't be put out to pasture. Lawyers for the city and university are in the process of working out an official compromise, whereby Molly can remain, as long as she stays brown. Quoting a fellow attorney, Yett sums up Fort Worth's response: "Down here in Texas, we do know the difference between a cow and a steer, and that's no bull." --Anya Sostek VOICES OF AMERICA Percentage of population five years and older that speak a language other than English at home California 39.5 New Mexico 35.5 Texas 32 New York 27.5 Hawaii 26.1 Arizona 25.8 New Jersey 25.7 Florida 22.1 Nevada 21.8 Rhode Island 19.6 Illinois 19.3 Massachusetts 18.6 Connecticut 17.8 Colorado 14.3 Washington 13.7 Maryland 12.7 Utah 11.8 Alaska 11.6 Virginia 10.9 Oregon 10.3 Idaho 9 Delaware 8.9 Georgia 8.8 Minnesota 8.7 Louisiana 8.4 Michigan 8.2 Pennsylvania 7.9 Wisconsin 7.7 Indiana 7.6 Maine 7.6 New Hampshire 7.5 North Carolina 7.5 Nebraska 7.3 Oklahoma 7.1 Kansas 6.2 Iowa 6 North Dakota 5.7 Wyoming 5.6 Ohio 5.5 Missouri 5.3 Vermont 5.2 South Carolina 5.1 Tennessee 4.9 Montana 4.8 South Dakota 4.8 Arkansas 3.8 Kentucky 3.5 Alabama 3.3 Mississippi 2.9 West Virginia 2.2 Source: U.S. Census Bureau SIGNS OF GENIUS Richard Sargent, a member of the city commission in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, complimenting state senators on the efforts they had put into drawing up a new district map: "There is no way a plan could be devised that was this unfair without a lot of hard work." A HOLLYWOOD ENDING A fictional tornado ripped through Ames, Iowa, in the 1996 movie "Twister," but the damage that was done was contained to the world of special effects within the film. Now Littleport, another Iowa town that really was destroyed by a natural disaster, is going to have the starring role in a television program about special effects in movies. Two years ago, the town was devastated when the Volga River overran its banks and flooded the area with 10 feet of water. The town used to have almost 90 people, but only about two dozen still live in Littleport today. The rest were bought out by the state or federal government after their homes were deemed unsafe. Instead of paying to demolish their flood-ravaged infrastructure, the community offered to let Hollywood take advantage of the razing of the town for cinematic effect. "It was pretty creative of those folks to think that up," says Wendol Jarvis, who promoted the project for the Iowa Film Office, "Structures had to be destroyed anyway, so they figured they'd see if Hollywood wanted to do it." Hollywood's interest may be the silver lining in the loss of Littleport. In lieu of the roughly $150,000 that demolition would have cost, the community will receive a fee from the production company, and the company will also be responsible for cleaning up after it has destroyed the town. The town is considering using the money it makes to put a campground on the site. --Melissa Conradi DEAD-END REVOLT Cul-de-sacs have fallen out of favor with many urban planners. Too much traffic. Too many delays for fire trucks and other emergency vehicles. Too little sense of community. After more than a decade of unfettered subdivision development, communities were eager to address some of the problems associated with burgeoning suburbs. The time was the early 1960s. The solution was the cul-de-sac. The cul-de-sac began modestly--as a means of extending streets onto properties that couldn't support an urban grid, such as narrow canyons or winding creeks. In the '60s, however, real estate developers transformed the cul-de-sac into the centerpiece of a new suburban lifestyle. Cul-de-sac subdivisions were deemed safer for children because traffic from outsiders was almost nonexistent. Consumers snapped them up and close-ended roads soon marched across the suburban landscape. "Just aesthetically, people like them," says Dominic Chavez, government relations liaison at the Real Estate Council in Austin, Texas. "Those are the first lots that sell in a subdivision." While their popularity among homebuyers remains undiminished, cul-de- sacs are under attack. Critics blame "the lollipop-shaped, dead-end roads" for producing enfeebled "cul-de-sac kids," bored teenagers who turn toward delinquency, isolated "soccer moms" and stranded senior citizens. More concretely, they point out that cul-de-sac subdivisions are disgorging new streams of traffic onto already overloaded arterial roads, creating massive traffic congestion and forcing local and state governments to spend millions on road construction. Urban planners have taken note. Increasingly, they're taking action. A handful of municipalities have come out against the cul-de-sac in recent years. Nowhere is the anti-cul-de-sac animus stronger than in the Pacific Northwest. Olympia, Washington, became one of the first cities in the region to limit its use. "The preferred method prior to 1992 was cul-de-sacs built on subdivision layouts," says Todd Stamm, Olympia's senior city planner. "We actively discouraged through streets." The result, however, was growing traffic delays and pressure to widen area roads. So Olympia changed course. New public works standards adopted in 1995 allowed for cul-de-sacs only "as a result of topographic constraints, wetlands, water bodies, and body shapes." Now, according to Stamm, "we still see occasional developers who go looking for those properties. But it's not the norm to build them where there's undeveloped flat property out there that can be stubbed out." In 1997, Austin Planning Commission member Dave Sullivan proposed banning cul-de-sacs in new developments. Local real estate developers were not amused. They protested that banning cul-de-sacs would deprive consumers of properties they liked and exacerbate Austin's affordable- housing crisis by increasing the costs of building new houses. Sullivan backed away from a ban and moved instead toward a compromise plan that will increase walkability. Indeed, rather than calling for a complete ban, most cul-de-sac critics are pushing development plans that call for sidewalks, shorter blocks, smaller lots and pedestrian walkways between neighborhoods. Such requirements aim to create a more "porous" grid for traffic and more walkable neighborhoods. The new goal is "connectivity." In June, Baltimore County adopted a new set of "performance standards" for residential cul-de-sacs. The standards call for using cul-de-sacs "if it is demonstrated that a street connection is not feasible due to site conditions such as severe grade transitions or sensitive natural features." If cul-de-sacs are used, the standards say, "they should connect a balance of street elements." "The key word is balance," says Pat Keller, Baltimore County's planning director. "That's all we're really talking about." Cul-de- sacs "are still premium, good lots. There is a value there. But what happens when you have a hundred percent cul-de-sacs is that people can't get anywhere. The roads are totally clogged." Are suburbanites really ready to give up their cul-de-sacs for connectivity and more walkable neighborhoods? Austin's Dave Sullivan is hopeful. "Even people who never walk," he points out, "a lot of them jog." --John Buntin ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Copyright 2001, Congressional Quarterly, Inc. Reproduction in any form without the written permission of the publisher is prohibited. Governing, City & State and Governing.com are registered trademarks of Congressional Quarterly, Inc. http://governing.com