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History, lifestyles, and vistas are threatened

January 27, 2008 12:16 am

RICHMOND--Imagine the dilemma you face if you live in Orange, Berryville, The Plains, or any of the dozens of hamlets and small towns in Virginia's northern piedmont. You reside in one of the most beautiful places in the United States: one of the few spots that can compete with, say, the Cotswolds in England or Tuscany in Italy for the beauty of its natural and manmade landscapes. You love your way of life, but it's threatened by sprawl emanating from the Washington metropolitan area. In today's society, you have one of two choices.

The easiest way--the way chosen by most communities threatened by growth--is to pass zoning ordinances, enact restrictive comprehensive plans, and file lawsuits against any developer who slips through the net. In sum, you trample property rights into the red clay.

Or you can try what people in the northern piedmont have done. You create an organization like the Journey Through Hallowed Ground Partnership, dedicated to preserving the integrity of its communities while honoring the tenets of private property and free enterprise.

JTHG involves a swath of territory running along U.S. 15 from Monticello to the Gettysburg battlefield, and is a grass-roots movement that encompasses local governments, Main Street communities, vineyard owners, equestrians, organic farmers, shopkeepers, restaurateurs, B&B propri-etors, and caretakers of historical sites as famous as James Madison's Montpelier and as obscure as the Goose Creek Bridge on a Civil War-era turnpike.

Led by Cate Magennis Wyatt, secretary of commerce during the Wilder administration, JTHG has set an audacious goal: to stimulate economic activity that is consistent with the region's existing way of life. If property values rise sufficiently, Wyatt reasons, farmers and landowners won't feel pressured to sell out to real-estate developers.

JTHG has three parts: heritage tourism, sustainable agriculture, and small, historic downtowns. Heritage tourism forms the basis of a region steeped in history: Civil War battlefields, presidential homes, historic buildings and homes, and African-American heritage. Working farms and estates support postcard-perfect farmlands as well as attractions ranging from vineyard tours to steeple chases.

small tradeoff

There is one other aspect to the grand plan: Wyatt wants to set up an investment trust to acquire land and manage or develop it in a socially responsible manner. The idea would be to raise tens of millions of dollars from investors looking for a profit but willing to accept less-than-market returns on projects that would protect the region's special character. The partnership board has set more immediate priorities: winning National Scenic Highway status for U.S. 15 and persuading Congress to designate the region as a National Heritage Area.

Remarkably, Wyatt has run into a buzz saw of opposition, not from residents of JTHG communities but from conservative groups lodged in the ideological hothouse of the Washington area. A number of groups have expressed the view that the National Heritage Area designation is a Trojan horse, an insidious maneuver to introduce land-use controls to the region.

Citing alleged abuses of NHAs in other parts of the country, critics contend that JTHG plans such a fate for the rolling hills of Virginia, Maryland, and Pennsylvania. Remarkably, these critics offer no tangible evidence whatsoever that JTHG harbors such intentions.

When I attended a JTHG brainstorming session last summer as a journalistic observer, I heard no one calling for land-use controls. The impulse of the workshop was how to build more prosperous, livable, and sustainable communities--in essence, how to create wealth without transforming the character of the region.

property rights

Perhaps the true test of how Cate Wyatt would approach preserving Virginia's piedmont is how she dealt with it in her own backyard. Wyatt lives in a charming hamlet, Waterford, which was founded by Quakers in the 18th century. Several years ago, a developer purchased a farm adjoining the historic village and proposed converting it into a subdivision. Residents, many of whose backyards look upon open fields and farmland, were distressed by the prospect that they soon would be gazing upon a cluster of McMansions.

The easiest course of action would have been to halt development through endless lawsuits. But the Waterford residents formed a foundation to buy the land from the developer. Wyatt was instrumental in raising the money. Now, that's respect for property rights.

A National Heritage Area designation for JTHG would usurp no one's property rights. If the jurisdictions along U.S. 15 want to restrict development, they don't need the cover of an NHA. They have tools at their command already: zoning laws, subdivision ordinances, and comprehensive plans. Yet, despite the hysterical accusations, JTHG has conspicuously not engaged in any effort to shape local land use.

All across America, small-town communities find themselves threatened by out-of-control development driven by land-use controls in major metropolitan areas. These restrictions, far more intrusive than anything concocted by an NHA, force developers to leapfrog over no-growth jurisdictions into areas like the JTHG where growth is not only unwelcome but entirely unsuitable.

Strangely, the zealous defenders of property rights have little to say about those abuses. It would be a cruel irony if the misguided attack on National Heritage Areas and the Journey Through Hallowed Ground torpedoed one of the country's most promising experiments in free-market conservation.