Fear and loathing in Jefferson

If you’ve grown up in Jefferson, you’ve heard it.

If you’re new to town, don’t worry — sooner or later, you’ll hear it, too.

“We could have had the Pella Window factory.”

“We were supposed to have Farner-Bocken.”

“Wal-Mart wanted to come to Jefferson.”

“Adventureland could have been built along Highway 30.”

“Pixar was supposed to move its animation studio from California to Jefferson.”

“The United Nations originally wanted to build its headquarters across from the fairgrounds.”

“The Super Friends wanted to put the Hall of Justice in Jefferson.”

“I’m not fat; I’m just big-boned.”

OK, to be fair, the first three statements are true — the rest I just made up.

But how true are they? I wish I knew, and if I ever get some free time, I may consider setting up a Greene County version of Snopes.com to prove or disprove our very own urban legends.

What I do know is that these statements are passed on from year to year as a way to excuse our community’s shortcomings.

Sure, Carroll ended up with Pella and Farner-Bocken — but we coulda had ’em first.

So, yeah, Boone and Carroll both got Wal-Marts — but unlike those two places, we actually care about our mom and pop businesses. (Never mind that retail in Carroll’s downtown, even with competition from Wal-Mart and Kmart, is far more robust than ours these days.)

The county’s overwhelming support for the Wild Rose Casino, it could be theorized, was a way to atone for all of our perceived missteps of the past.

Deep down, I think we felt that if we said no, there may not be anything to say no to again.

Coincidentally, the casino (or at least the gaming referendum that put everything in motion) was subject to a vote of the people.

All those other boneheaded decisions — whether real or not — were the doings of our leaders, both the elected ones and the influential ones born with just the right last names.

And you know what?

As I sat in Monday on a joint session of the Jefferson city council and the Greene County board of supervisors about a doomed new animal shelter and dog park, it dawned on me.

We say we’re progressive, but we’re not.

Jefferson could have had this and could have had that. And young people are leaving right under our noses, not because of anything we’re doing we tell ourselves, but because no one with a social life wants to live in rural Iowa.

So we mosey right along saying no to improved school facilities and no thanks to a private citizen’s offer to raise $1.2 million to build a modern new animal shelter with a dog park.

We’ll go along telling the young people among us that we heard their desire for a skate park — and then we turned around and gave them the cheapest, saddest place ever to skateboard.

And we’ll go right along telling visitors that we could have had Pella and a Wal-Mart and Google and PayPal and Facebook and the International Court of Justice and the Oakland Raiders football franchise.

I’m not even a pet owner — unless you count a son in second grade — but I was irritated Monday on their behalf when the council and supervisors balked at proceeding with Don Orris’ thoroughly researched shelter plan because of the annual cost to operate it.

Orris seemed confident that, all on his own, he could raise the $1.2 million needed to build the facility.

The man had even obtained a free chunk of land for it to be built on.

All he needed was for the city and county to step up and fund its annual operation.

The figures Orris floated — $77,734 annually from the city; $66,218 annually from the county — were always explained as “worst-case” scenarios.

Those figures included a full-time animal control officer for the entire county, and likely could have been lowered even further by bringing Greene County’s other towns to the table.

But the officials on hand could never overcome the sticker shock, despite the fact that they’re getting money they didn’t have two years ago from the casino.

The city of Jefferson alone is receiving about $150,000 annually from the casino.

Of that, according to City Clerk Diane Kennedy, the city is using some of it to wisely fund a new police officer. (An eighth officer was recently hired at a cost of approximately $60,000 in salary and benefits.)

The rest of the casino money goes into the general fund.

A new animal shelter would have generated some of its own income via increased adoption fees. The hard-working, volunteer ladies of PAWS would have reduced costs as well just by the giving of their time and supplies.

So what gives?

Is it possible that after all these years, and all those supposed setbacks, we still have leaders that can’t see the bigger picture?

One councilman at a previous joint session said he didn’t think an expanded new animal shelter was even necessary.

C’mon, hobos have swankier pads than the city’s current animal shelter.

This just isn’t the same society that relegated dogs to a life outdoors.

It used to be if you saw a stray dog, nobody batted an eye.

On farms, strays fared far worse.

Today, residents will catch the stray themselves or call police about it. It’s now about as alarming as seeing a toddler out walking alone in the street.

Cats have been elevated in status, too.

Can you imagine if someone in the 1950s had said, “I don’t have grandkids, but I have two grandcats”?

It would have been shameful for a parent.

The animal shelter and dog park in Orris’ plan could have been an able demonstration of how progressive we think we are.

Don’t think of it as just a new animal shelter, just as I challenge you not to view the upgrades desired by the school district as frivolous.

These are tools of economic development. (Tellingly, the land Orris secured for free for a shelter is owned by the Greene County Development Corp.)

A dog park would have been one of those amenities craved by a young and highly educated professional class.

The opening of the casino briefly did wonders for Jefferson’s psyche. For a time, the air was absolutely electric.

Anything, it seemed, was possible.

But when the streets didn’t instantly turn to gold, we went right back to what Jimmy Carter might call a crisis of confidence.

I personally never want to hear, “We could have had,” ever again.

Let’s start saying, “Yeah, we have that.”