Austin’s velvety evergreen hills are now rough-hewn with the defoliated thickets of winter, but the
long and winding road through the middle of them — the Southwest Parkway —
remains as it has season after season.
Change, however, is afoot. The Travis Country neighborhood, chiseled from
those hills not far from MoPac and nestled apart from the parkway by a juniper
grove, will soon be adding additional homes. And further west towards the
parkway’s other end at Highway 71, Freeport-McMoRan is building an apartment
complex, attests a rainbow-colored sign shockingly vibrant against the dull,
wintered backdrop. Otherwise, the parkway remains an extended lookout point of
the Hill Country, a wide-open, six-lane road that is eerily empty much of the
time.
Freeport-McMoRan, which owns much of the land along this glorified luge
course, no doubt hopes to fill those six lanes with commuters in a subdivision
Field of Dreams scenario, whereby “if the city builds a huge parkway,
they will come.” But Councilmember Daryl Slusher, as part of an ambitious
three-pronged set of proposals to protect water quality in the Barton Springs
watershed, launched an intitiative last week to shut down half of the six-lane
Southwest Parkway. (Slusher’s other two intitiatives are to ask that AISD
trustees commit to banning construction of any new schools in the Barton
Springs zone, and to monitor water quality downstream of two developments: the
Barton Creek and Lost Creek neighborhoods.) Slusher’s first proposal, the
downsizing of the Southwest parkway, stems from his concern that the behemothic
highway could be the groundwork for massive urbanization above the nation’s
most sensitive aquifer. He hopes the lessened road capacity, from six to three
lanes, will decelerate development there. Slusher also proposes making one of
the lanes reversible during rush hour, so that commuters would actually have to
make do with just one less lane than they had before. Slusher’s plan, at its
foundation, represents the age-old battle between developers and the
environmental community. But as usual, those councilmembers who carry
Freeport’s wastewater — Ronney Reynolds, Eric Mitchell, and Mayor Bruce Todd
— are throwing up a facade, to give the appearance that they are fighting for
humble southwest Austin residents fearful of nightmarish traffic.
For years, the road has been a thorn in the side of enviros concerned about
protecting Barton Creek, and they would love to enshrine one side of it as a
monument to developer greed. The road is the financial brainchild of former Lt.
Gov. Ben Barnes (now a lobbyist, embroiled with his client GTECH in ongoing
controversy over alleged financial impropriety at the state lottery) and former
Gov. John Connally. Involved in myriad real estate schemes that went belly-up
with the building bust in the late 1980s, the two later declared bankruptcy,
and their boondoggles cost taxpayers millions upon millions of dollars.
The parkway is a seven-mile boondoggle. In 1984, the two developers persuaded
the Lege to allow the creation of those financially nimble but miserably
unsuccessful creatures called road districts. They got Travis County
Commissioners to create the Southwest Travis County Road District #1.
Seven residents in the district approved the issuance of $20 million in debt
and voila!, a grey carpet was rolled right to the front door of
thousands of acres of Barnes/Connally property, the proposed Barton Creek PUD,
and the Uplands property west of it. Naturally, the bond payments were
excessively high for the residents, and much of the financial burden was
transferred to Travis County, so we all got the honor of helping pay for this
concrete monster. Barnes and Connally lost their land in the bankruptcy, and
Freeport eventually bought it. Now, Freeport also owns the proposed Lantana
development, which abuts a good portion of the road’s southern side, more or
less across the parkway from the PUD.
As a journalist, Slusher left a paper trail of attacks against the road,
portraying it as a taxpayer-subsidized money pit for the rich and famous; some
of those old articles served as press releases at last week’s meeting, where he
hoped to pass a resolution asking the council to direct city staff to study his
proposal.
For Slusher, the road provides just one more example of how protecting the
environment also protects taxpayers. After the road’s construction, the city
became responsible for maintenance of the portion inside Austin, and it quickly
began caving, largely because of underground springs that apparently wanted the
land back. The city spends about $40,000 a year on maintenance, and the road’s
condition has at times been so rotten that the shoulders could be torn off like
french bread. The city once asked the state Highway Department to take
responsibility for it, but the response was a genuine “Are you crazy? It would
be too expensive to repair.” And more frightening — it didn’t meet even the
state’s environmental standards. It’s good to know the department has environmental standards, but the downside is, the city is saddled with its part
of the environmentally hazardous and economically disastrous road. Staff says
it would cost $2.2 million to bring it up to code in terms of safety.
Presumably, closing one side would reduce about half of those costs. On the
other hand, Public Works director Peter Rieck says closure would come with a
$900,000 fee, to repaint lines, modify medians, and add environmental
barricades. Closing it, versus keeping it open, looks to be a wash.
The Freeport minions on the council say they are concerned about causing
snarled traffic for southwest Austin residents. Councilmember Mitchell, who
lives in Oak Hill, is one of those residents. He calls Slusher’s plan “a joke.”
When Slusher asked for a traffic count of the parkway, Public Works Director
Peter Rieck informed him that one hadn’t been done since 1991. But Slusher,
while enjoying the Austin American-Statesman the next day, read that a
traffic count had been done “earlier in the week.” According to the local
daily, in a 24-hour period, 12,400 cars used the road. Rieck says the traffic
count had been done the very day he talked with Slusher, but he hadn’t been
informed about it. Whether the public works gang rushed out and did the count
for editor Rich Oppel has yet to be determined. Slusher is also seeking info on
how the count was done; he thinks it too high. But even at that figure, it’s a
ridiculously light load for a six-lane highway.
However Mitchell says Oak Hillions like himself don’t need a traffic count to
know the parkway should be kept entirely open. The road, he says, is plenty
crowded. Mitchell’s attempts to defeat the freshman councilmember’s proposal
for a staff study were unsuccessful. Mitchell and the other two-thirds of the
Freeport Three did manage to persuade the council to agree to hold the required
public hearing at Covington Middle School in Oak Hill for February 6. The trio
wanted the hearing there instead of at council chambers so road-hungry
residents would outnumber springs-loving enviros. But the funny thing is, few
from Oak Hill use the parkway. The neighborhood is south of 290 (see map).
Unless Oak Hill residents take the scenic route to work, the Southwest Parkway
is only useful as a shortcut to the Hill Country. Presumably, the parkway could
relieve congestion from 290 when the Hill Country is developed further west,
but that’s the reason 290 is now being expanded to 12 lanes.
Could the real concern from the developer-minority be related to the fact that
they have received more than $75,000 from contributors connected to
Freeport’s PUD during their council careers? That could also help explain why
the mayor’s aide, Trey Salinas, allegedly sent out a firestorm of faxes
beseeching Southwest Austin residents to speak out at last week’s council
meeting. Only a handful showed up, but that didn’t stop the enviros from
raising the fax frenzy allegations. After one Travis Country resident openly
acknowledged that, yes, he had been notified by fax, the mayor looked down on
the tree-huggers from the dais: “Those faxes ya’ll referred to…” Then he put
his arms behind his head, leaned back in his chair, and smiled. “If you don’t
like it, tough.” Similar road campaign efforts that benefit Freeport can be
expected for the upcoming public hearing; the mayor knows that enviros would go
to the ends of the earth to protect the aquifer, and the battle should be hard
fought.
As for the previous week’s marquee features, the key theme was delay, delay,
delay. Thus, Santa Claus did not deliver the proposed $21 million Christmas
gift to six of Austin’s corporate stars (IBM, Motorola, AMD, Texas Instruments,
Applied Materials, and Seton Hospital). The first four high-tech companies on
this list of our city’s highest energy users want cheaper electric bills, and
the Electric Utility Department, in a vulnerable, finger-biting state because
imminent deregulation of the industry threatens its monopoly, did everything
but sign the check. A majority of the council, however, wasn’t so sure. With
Jackie Goodman as flag-bearer, the council put a “do-not-open” tag on the
proposal until a cost-of-service study is done.
Also delayed were Reynolds’ Rules of Order. He says his proposal would bring
civility and public engagement to the council. Gadflies say they would make it
more difficult to speak out. The proposal will be off the desk at least until
mid-January.
Staff’s proposal to provide water and wastewater service to the Davenport
Ranch Municipal Utility District was also pulled. Enviros oppose the deal
because it would send a sewage pipeline across the Colorado River via the Loop
360 bridge. They got a break when the MUD backed out after the city wanted
annexation as part of the deal. Negotiations continue… 
This article appears in December 27 • 1996 and December 27 • 1996 (Cover).