Tucson Weekly: Look Who's A Nimby Now! (June 4

Look Who's A Nimby Now!

For Years E.S. 'Bud' Walker Never Met A Rezoning He Didn't Like.
By Chris Limberis
IT SEEMED ROUTINE, almost innocent in the rezoning boom times of the 1970s. So common it required little discussion. And provoked no dissension.
The Board of Supervisors changed an 11-acre patch of citrus grove into a scheme for 55 townhomes off North Oracle Road at Chula Vista.
On that July day in 1977, E.S. Bud Walker, a Democrat and the rezoning king and good-ole-boy, shirt-unbuttoned-to-the-stomach chairman of the Board of Supervisors, did not need to twist any arms. The only vocal opposition came from Keith Dolgaard, a scam artist who would be convicted in federal court 16 years later for a loan kickback scheme. So painless was the little rezoning that the Board's presumptive environmentalist, David Yetman, also Democrat, made the motion for the townhomes.
Currents But no shoehorn was brought out to squeeze in the 55 units of Fountain Grove. Today, the flat parcel has been partially scraped to accommodate overflow parking for the Casas Adobes Community Congregational Church to the south. Borders are thickly vegetated. A once-impressive house sits deteriorating on the property's northwestern edge.
The man whose family once lived in that home, Joe Cesare, is a former southside kid who has built more than a few projects, including restaurants and offices down Oracle Road, as well as the Viscount Suites Hotel on East Broadway Boulevard. Cesare was Bud Walker's political money man, even in 1984, when Walker's hope for a fourth term was dashed by political rogue Ed Moore, a man Dolgaard served as an accountant and campaign official.
Now, however, Cesare and Walker are getting reacquainted over Cesare's new plan for the 11 acres he owns with a Mexican partner.
Walker is shielded with his wife Jody in the quiet Chula Vista Estates west of Cesare's property. The man who spent 28 years in state and county elected office has been reborn a NIMBY, vowing to defeat a proposal that would replace all those potential townhomes with an office complex and a ManorCare facility for 56 Alzheimer's patients.
The new Bud Walker is slowed by a weak heart, but that hasn't stopped him from flipping $2,000 over to his former colleague, Ron Asta, the one-time Democratic supervisor and controlled-growth guru, to fight his fight.
Asta, bounced from the Board in 1976 by development queen Katie Dusenberry, is now a land-use and development consultant. He makes his living trying to get permission for speculators, investors and business owners to derive maximum profits from their land.
BUT THE INTRIGUING cast doesn't stop there. Seeking approval of the ManorCare plan are Margaret Kenski and her husband Henry Kenski, politically connected and astute professors and consultants who live west of the project. Hank Kenski is head of Republican U.S. Senator Jon Kyl's southern Arizona office.
Michael Racy, the affable and efficient lobbyist for Pima County, and his wife are neighbors of Walker's. They support Cesare's proposal with some modifications.
Citizen Samuel Winchester Morey, a self-appointed county watchdog, also supports the change from the packed-in townhomes, but he's pushing changes in traffic patterns as well as design to help the Casas Adobes Community Congregational Church, where he and his wife are among the 560 members.
Cesare's project lies within the boundaries of the yearning-to-be town of Casas Adobes. But with the town's status in legal limbo, Cesare's development plan rests with Pima County. The county Planning & Zoning Commission voted 6-0 last week to recommend the supervisors approve the plan in mid July.
Still, Cesare has kept the members of the Casas Adobes government-in-waiting apprised of his plans. And that hasn't helped him with DeNise Huxtable, a Casas Adobes councilwoman and essentially lifelong resident of the Chula Vista neighborhood.
She and Walker aren't alone. Protests against the new Cesare plan have reached the point of forcing a super-majority vote of the Board of Supervisors. Four of the five members will be needed for Cesare to override the 35 percent protest by number and 36 percent protest by land ownership. Democrat Raul Grijalva will vote no. Grijalva hates Cesare, although he gladly took all the money Cesare raised for him during his first supervisorial race in 1988. These days, however, Grijalva would vote against Cesare even if the Pope were a partner in the project.
Huxtable claims to have an "intrinsic interest'' in the development proposal because she's lived in the area so long. Mom and Dad still live next door, she boasts.
She wants the Alzheimer's facility, which she calls "very massive," next to the church. She also complains the patients would be "more like inmates" because of how the current plans are drawn.
Actually, it will probably be a good thing that the Alzheimer patients won't be able to see through the trees or around the corner to enjoy the white-trash view of Huxtable's backyard. Mommy and Daddy should make her clean out the cream-colored Ford on jacks and blocks, the ugly kitchen appliance and the Dunkin' Donuts display case.
Across the street, Racy and his wife appear to have poured a steady stream of money into their property. They love their views of Pusch Ridge and the Santa Catalinas. They also enjoy watching a Harris hawk, even if it perches on a big telephone pole.
Racy calls the former townhouse plan, which Cesare could implement tomorrow, an "abomination.''
"If I owned the property, I'd like to see a park," Racy announced at a recent P&Z meeting. "Alternatively, I'd like to see it split between a park and the office space. I stand ready to pay my share."
He got no takers. So Racy will focus on limiting the building heights and changing the traffic flow on Chula Vista and Oracle.
Margaret Kenski, whose house is farther to the west, says that since "infill is inevitable, we ought to support it when it's good...this is far less obtrusive.''
Meanwhile, Walker let Asta do the talking for him.
Drainage is a concern for Walker, as is the layout. At 27,000 square feet, the Alzheimer's facility is too big to be separated from the Casas Adobes Church, Asta says.
Walker, through Asta, also wanted Cesare to do studies to determine if the construction, including maximum heights of 29 feet to accommodate two bell towers, would infringe on views.
Cesare responds that the studies would prove nothing except that "you can't see through trees.''
Last year, Cesare proposed a hotel on 6.5 acres where the Alzheimer's center will go. To the south, five office buildings are planned with a combined area of 85,800 square feet.
Morey, the veteran activist who also has extensive real-estate experience (buying and selling), wants the office next to the church to be tapered away from the church at the east so that the church can be seen by those traveling south on Oracle.
"You sell the sizzle, not the steak,'' Morey says.
Morey wants Cesare to bury utility lines and he's adamant about traffic changes.
Chula Vista, under the Morey plan, would have a right-turn only onto Oracle and the Oracle median cut would be closed. Casas Adobes Road also would be right-turn only, and a new median cut on Oracle would be added between Chula Vista and Casas Adobes roads.
Given Grijalva's antipathy for Cesare, the proposal may have a difficult go before the Board of Supervisors. Mike Racy, in particular, will be key to holding the support of second-year Supervisor Sharon Bronson, a Democrat.
Cesare, who joked during the P&Z hearing that he was reserving a bed for himself at the medical facility, will be hoping to peel off protesters before supervisors take a vote. Protesters who live within 300 feet of the project may withdraw their formal objections until the close of the hearing.

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