But now that he's chairman of the board of commissioners in Ravalli County, where Hamilton is located, Thompson is learning that the one correct answer can be maddeningly elusive. That's true, in particular, when it comes to the county's three anti-obscenity laws, approved by voters in 1994. Five years after passage, a judge ruled that all three laws were unconstitutional because they were overly broad and posed a threat to First Amendment rights. Thompson, a devout Mormon, disagreed. He was especially angry about the judge's position that the county did not have the right to create an ordinance stricter than state statutes. That potentially put at risk other Ravalli ordinances covering everything from farming to billboard and cell-tower restrictions.
Thompson is pushing an appeal to the state Supreme Court, saying he owes it to the citizens who voted for the laws despite being warned at the time that they would be challenged. The county so far is out $70,000 in damage settlements and attorneys' fees. "I regret the fact that it's going to cost the taxpayers of Ravalli County a great deal more money," says Ruth Thorning, a party to the suit. "I think it's a colossal waste of time."
But the kicker is that the people angriest at Thompson are his very allies against the court decision. Local Christian activists are upset because he refuses to hire lawyers from national conservative organizations to use Ravalli as a test case. In Thompson's view, the county shouldn't be handing control of the matter over to outside interest groups to make him and his fellow-residents into guinea pigs. That stance has earned him catcalls at hearings--"I was vilified," Thompson says--and angry letters to newspapers, calling him a "traitor."
The county isn't exactly a hotbed of pornography, with just one video store renting out X-rated movies and a half-dozen stores where you can buy Playboy, if you're willing to ask for it by name. Ravalli has other problems, though. Just south of Missoula, along the jagged border with Idaho, it is the fastest-growing county in the state, having shot up 44 percent during the 1990s, to 36,000. Like the 58- year-old Thompson, who moved to the area nearly 25 years ago, these new people are drawn by the spectacular scenery of the Bitterroot Valley. And this is what the trouble in Ravalli is largely about.
Some of the newcomers are seriously rich people, including stockbroker Charles Schwab and sportscaster Brent Musberger, who have built part-time homes and introduced the concept of gated communities to an area that once had enormous ranches but no fences. All the growth has put the usual pressures on infrastructure, such as roads and fire service, without adding to the tax base in a significant way.
It also has led to tension between the wealthy and cosmopolitan new arrivals and the more conservative county residents who fear that their traditional values are being threatened. Not only are the county's voters determined to keep pornography out, many of them want to slow down the in-migration altogether. Last month, when the county agreed to pay $1.2 million for 106 acres surrounding the airport, to protect flight paths, citizens jammed into hearings to complain that the move would lead to an overall expansion, big jets disrupting Big Sky country, and still more newcomers.
Thompson says that isn't the plan. But that didn't cut off the criticism. And as had happened on the obscenity issue, Thompson discovered it was his own allies who were against him. "It's one thing that's frustrating about this job," he says. "I agreed with them, yet they never want to take you at your word."
