Out of the blue, I recently shared with several closer acquaintances the fact that I attended a City Council meeting. The usual reply they shot back was, “Why?”
Not as in, “Oh, good for you, concerned locals should do this regularly, so what was your specific motivation toward good citizenship?” But rather, “Um … why?” Or, “Why in the WORLD would you do such a thing?” or, “Why torture yourself?”
This universal response came from everyday citizens, a few business leaders, and even a former city official. It was often accompanied by stunned perplexity, a wrinkled brow, and/or a mocking guffaw.
After attending one council meeting this spring, I stayed afterward to chat with the attendees, and one sitting council member asked why I had come. Was I planning to run for City Council? Oh, gosh, please don’t start that rumor!
That does seem to be a thing, by the way. This spring, both Ward 2 special election candidates started the habit of attending the meetings. Vera Elwood sat toward the back, taking notes fast, while Ken Rice would pop up to the public comment podium and talk fast.
I had historically heard second- and thirdhand how it’s tough to get approval from our municipal government to build a house or to use a house in the way one might reasonably see fit.
But attending a couple of City Council meetings gave yours truly a nearly front-row seat to the dramas of two real-life people trying to accomplish just that, and a hard time that process sure does seem to be.
One professional engineer was presenting on a new greenfield housing development on the northeast end of town. He told the council that, based on prior complaints from nearby neighbors about how new two-story homes could peek down on their existing houses, he relented and made his proposed dwellings one story and placed them on smaller lots. A nearby resident went up to the mic and said that now she didn’t like that these people’s patios would be so close to her back fence. Darned if ya do, darned if ya don’t.
After some discussion, the council approved these new houses to be built in this town. I followed the developer out the front door and thanked/congratulated him for putting up with all that. He grinned and shrugged, which I took as: “Yeah, it’s a thing.”
At another meeting, somebody bought a house near Stephens Lake Park and applied for the new short-term rental regime. The city planner went over the minutiae of the new owner’s suggested usage (via Airbnb, etc.), theorizing many, many ways it could possibly go wrong. As the council was overwhelmed by all these complexities, one member asked staff if the applicant actually met the requirements of the ordinance or not.
As discussion carried on, a fellow slinked toward the front rows — he turned out to be said new owner. Thank goodness he was able to successfully plead his personal case and commit to all the extra precautions required to avoid hosting a dreaded “party house.” And now he thought he’d gotten a license already, but then he learned of additional steps. On pins and needles, uncertain seemed his fate, until the council’s emotions blew favorable.
I followed that guy out the door right afterward, too, sharing my relief on his behalf, to which he replied, “It was a terrible experience.” This poor soul could never have imagined having to attend the town meeting to justify his humble business plan.
People keep moving to Columbia, but the supply of new residences is obviously artificially constrained more than it should be. Why must the council make housing providers run such a gauntlet, giving those who are trying to make a living and play by the rules such a hard time? You can witness this ongoing absurdity yourself at a City Council meeting.
Does this seem like the right interpretation?
Isn’t that one reason the council is trying to reduce the number of houses that get turned into full-time Airbnbs? (Just saying.)
