water mains – Looking askance

Fate can teach us fiscal sustainability

(Reading time: 5 minutes)

In a somewhat puzzling change of venue, Staunton’s city council will be meeting Wednesday evening to discuss the Comprehensive Plan update not at city hall—where its chambers have more room, better seating and the proceedings can be readily videotaped—but in the second-floor meeting room of the Staunton Public Library. The ostensible reason for this choice is to bring the discussion into more of a community setting, which doesn’t speak well of the council’s perspective on its own digs. But given that the community is invited to watch but not speak at this last public airing of the update before a council vote later in the month, you do have to wonder about the logic of it all.

But let me not quibble. With the deadline for public input now past, it will be interesting to see just which of the plan’s shortcomings will be addressed and how, and whether they will be deemed sufficient to send the whole exercise back to the Comprehensive Plan Commission for revisions. That seems unlikely, even though some of the update’s omissions are rather glaring, as I recently documented. That’s not how these meetings usually work. But one of those omissions—any acknowledgment of the city’s huge unfunded liability to replace a leaky and brittle century-old water delivery system—when viewed in the context of the McIntosh Village development, which recently received qualified approval, underscores an even more fundamental hole at the center of the plan: its failure to address issues of fiscal accountability. And that all by itself should compel a do-over.

Just as the “comprehensive” plan conveniently ignores major capital improvement expenses that will become unavoidable over the next 20 years, so the McIntosh Village application was processed without any true understanding of what it ultimately will cost the city. Unlike infill development, which is how the comprehensive plan assumes the city will add most new housing over the next couple of decades, and which benefits from existing city infrastructure, McIntosh Village will add 267 new homes over a five-year period. That’s 267 homes that will have to be serviced by thousands of feet of new roads, new curbs, new water lines, new sewer lines and new storm water management systems. Once in place, all that new infrastructure will become the city’s responsibility in perpetuity to maintain, upgrade as needed and eventually replace.

How much will that cost? No clue. But as with the ignored water mains that supply Staunton with its water, this is the kind of predictable but significant expense that the Comprehensive Plan doesn’t recognize—not just at McIntosh Village, but in numerous other parts of the city where such development can be reasonably expected, such as the large open tracts zoned for low-density residential housing along Springhill Road. There simply is no city policy that requires a staff assessment of what financial obligations Staunton is accepting when it approves a new development.

A housing development isn’t only a financial burden, of course. Improved property adds to the real estate tax base, the residents who fill its homes presumably spend money in local businesses and thereby pay city sales tax, and so on. But just as any well-run business won’t undertake a significant expansion without preparing a spreadsheet that balances expected costs against anticipated revenues, a city shouldn’t willy-nilly take on 40- or 50-year obligations without a clear-eyed understanding of what that means for city residents.

This isn’t a revolutionary idea, although admittedly it remains somewhat rare among municipalities. But consider the example of a city northeast of Dallas, Texas, with a population of roughly 23,000, or just a bit smaller than Staunton. Fate—yes, that’s the name of the city—adopted its first comprehensive plan in 2015, then updated it five years later. It’s worth a look, if only to dispel any notion that the Lone Star State is completely allergic to any kind of land use planning. Apparently, that’s true for only some parts of the state.

As Fate would have it (sorry, couldn’t resist), any proposed developments within the city have to provide answers to four basic questions:

What infrastructure costs will be created?
What long-term maintenance obligations will result?
What tax revenue will be generated?
Does the math work over the long-term?

Or as the city explains at more length, its comprehensive plan includes a “fiscal sustainability” policy, which “means that over a long-term period the City of Fate will be able to cover its cost obligations and provide high service quality for its residents without major increases in property tax rates, high levels of debt through bond issuances, or degradation of city facilities due to lack of maintenance staff or resources. To maintain fiscal sustainability it is therefore critical that we evaluate new development proposals not only against our adopted development regulations and construction standards but also in relation to the fiscal productivity of the project” [emphasis added].

There’s a whole lot more explanation in Fate’s comprehensive plan for anyone who wants to get into the weeds, including a definition of fiscal productivity and a sample of the spreadsheet the city uses in its evaluation, but the bottom line is simply this: “These contributions and costs are compared to one another to ultimately determine if a project is going to contribute to the long-term fiscal sustainability of the city, or whether it will serve as a financial drain on our city’s taxpayers.” The remarkable thing about that statement is that it comes from a city marked by explosive growth, with a population that is expanding almost 8% annually—precisely the kind of city most susceptible to the municipal version of a Ponzi scheme, in which current residents get the benefit of a sudden infusion into the tax base while the cost of paying for its long-term obligations are kicked down the road.

We’re seeing now how that works out long-term, and it’s not pretty. But that doesn’t mean that we can’t adjust course for the benefit of future Stauntonians by having a comprehensive plan that adds fiscal sustainability to inclusivity, harmony, and all of the other aspirational values it embraces.

Follow the colored-dot road . . .

(Reading time: 17 minutes)

A draft of Staunton’s revised and updated Comprehensive Plan is out for review, following 18 months of data collection, meetings and pulse-taking—including hundreds of colored dots on a wall of easels—and presumably is heading for rapid city council adoption in early June. Public comments are being received until May 26. We should hope there are many.

As plans go, this latest iteration is an improvement over the original, which was adopted July 11, 2019—before Covid and before the post-pandemic explosion in real estate prices, an affordable housing crisis, devastating downtown floods and numerous other shifts in the firmament. That initial “plan” was far more descriptive than prescriptive, more a gazeteer than a road map suitable for navigating two decades. Its conservative approach meant the original plan avoided being derailed by the Covid era, but even on those few occasions when it tried to peer into the future it often missed the mark, as when it projected that Staunton’s population in 2040 would be 25,442—a number the current draft revises upward by 10%.

Predicting the future is tricky business, to be sure. But the 2019 plan also was hindered by its blinkered view of what properly falls within the city government’s scope of responsibilities, a perspective shaped at least as much by philosophy as by financial limitations. The plan’s view of housing, as “primarily a private system that is influenced by factors beyond those controlled by local government,” is perhaps the most egregious example of a hands-off attitude that produced a planning document with obvious blind spots. The result was a soulless slab of prose, devoid of vision or inspiration, suffocated by the expectation that the Staunton of 2040 would be just like Staunton in 2020 only more so.

The new draft, by contrast, takes a more expansive view of the city’s role, which is a welcome change. But it also goes to the opposite emotional extreme, so devoted to “vision” that it often reads like a romantic ode, a fulsome psalm to a city that is welcoming, vibrant, empowering, resilient, inclusive, thriving, harmonious, sustainable . . . and on and on. Fair enough—who wouldn’t want to live in a place like that?—but at some point it does become a repetitive blur. The new draft also is big on graphics and states forthrightly it intends to “minimize text,” which may be a nod to shortened attention spans but which undermines its credibility as a planning document. We think, analyze and plan more with words than with images, although images do provide a better complement to the whole “vision” thing.

But whether dry or frothy, both the original and the revision fall short of being either “comprehensive” or of being a “plan.” The update is more aspirational than the original, to be sure, but its attention to detail is erratic and uneven, ranging from the highly specific—even providing exact dollar amounts for specific sidewalk expenditures—to the kind of broad-brush statements of intent with which no one can quibble but with little or no guidance regarding how to get there. The lack of sufficient affordable housing, to offer just one example, is acknowledged as being “a foundational theme that touches nearly all chapters” of the plan, yet the housing section has the least number of proposed “tactics” of any of them, and even those few are wan at best.

Does it matter? On the plan’s own terms, it should. The Comprehensive Plan, according to its introduction, “guides Staunton’s efforts to update local ordinances, justifies city programs and initiatives, helps officials set budget priorities, and directs decisions or development applications.” In other words, the plan defines what’s important and what isn’t. If something isn’t in the plan, it doesn’t exist and stands a good chance of being overlooked. Any evaluation of the plan therefore should pay as much attention to what isn’t there as to what is.

Land Use

In the news business, it’s called burying the lede: starting a story with peripheral details, only getting around to the core concept many paragraphs later. In the section on land use, the lede is buried in a grey table of “tactics” that makes passing but repeated mention of “updates to the Zoning Ordinance” to solve various problems (infill, residential development in commercial districts, cottage courts, accessory dwelling units, etc.) without any prior narrative introduction of the ordinance, its limitations, or whether the whole thing should be overhauled rather than be subjected to a thousand tweaks and cuts. Instead, the explanatory text preceding the “tactics” (recommendations) is replete with mostly generic drawings of various land uses and how they might be improved, seemingly borrowed from the Cincinnati Urban Design and Architecture Studio, together with concepts like “building to street ratios” that it doesn’t explain. It’s all very colorful, but given the lack of a comprehensive review of the zoning code, mostly unhelpful.

How much more useful would this have been if the plan’s drawings were of actual Staunton city blocks, the streets and existing buildings clearly labeled, together with a vigorous discussion of how Staunton currently assigns land use and how it might do so differently? As it is, an ostensibly comprehensive plan casually presents information that should—but doesn’t—elicit sharp questioning, such as its unquestioned endorsement of reserving nearly a quarter of the city’s land for “heritage farmland.” Should it? Why? How is it sensible to set aside municipal acreage for cattle grazing when we’re surrounded by the state’s second largest agricultural county?

That’s not to say that the misleadingly labeled “ag-forestal” (much more ag than forest) corner of the city should be turned into suburbs, but that there is no sign that the comprehensive plan even considered alternative uses for the land. It also plays into repeated nonsense like this statement: “Trends analysis indicates that roughly 86% of Staunton’s land is already developed, meaning future housing growth will rely primarily on reinvestment, infill development, and reuse of existing structures.” That sounds dire, doesn’t it? But given that 22% of Staunton’s land mass is, as just noted, undeveloped agricultural land, it’s also absurd.

A more accurate—and helpful!—statement would be that “roughly 86% of Staunton’s land is already developed under current zoning constraints,” which opens the door to all kinds of fresh possibilities. Zoning is something we invented. It’s something we could change. And if we did, it’s amazing how much land would abruptly be available for all sorts of urban designs.

Farmland aside, there are numerous examples of ostensibly “developed” but underutilized land in Staunton. Consider, for example, the commercially zoned dog-leg rectangle between N. Central and Augusta that runs from West Frederick to Pump Street. Covering approximately 7.5 acres, this three-block area is immediately adjacent to the much more densely occupied multi-use downtown area that is generally regarded as an example of enlightened land use. But what do we find here? Five financial institutions, two fast-food restaurants and a store-front church—eight buildings altogether, with a combined footprint a tad over 35,000 square feet, covering just 11% of the land they occupy. As for the other 289,000 square feet of that “developed” land? Mostly asphalt parking lots and driveways.

Imagine if, instead of all those borrowed graphics, the plan had mapped out this three-block expanse and showed how it could be redeveloped for maximum use and return on the dollar. Yes, the land is privately owned. But the private sector, more readily than government, recognizes how it benefits economically from greater density and its synergistic effect on business. What the private sector doesn’t have is the overarching vision and resources to assemble such a transformation. That’s where the comprehensive plan could make a difference.

Blind Spots

The unquestioned acceptance of continuing the ag-forestal land-use designation is symptomatic of a bigger problem within the comprehensive plan: that of failing to see or question what’s right in front of our faces.

Decaying churches

Staunton is chock-a-block with churches, many with congregations that are aging out and increasingly unable to support large sanctuaries. Some are relatively modest, others may include spacious grounds and additional buildings. But like aging parents with a house stuffed full of belongings that no one will know what to do with when they die, too many will pass away without proper dispensation of their assets. For one example of what that looks like, see the former Bibleway Community Church on West Beverley, vacant for all of this decade and increasingly showing it.

Aging churches can be revitalized or repurposed in various ways, most notably but not solely as affordable housing. But whatever transformation may occur often requires the intervention of an outside agency, such as the city, working from an inventory that assesses which churches can continue to flourish and which ones need hospice care. Most critically, repurposing church properties typically requires someone else to initiate the conversation, since most aging congregations are reluctant to acknowledge they can no longer support their long-established houses of worship. That’s an understandably delicate exchange to have, but it only gets harder the longer it’s postponed.

Even without an inventory of an estimated 76 Staunton churches, there are a couple of obvious places where the comprehensive plan could get the ball rolling. The Marquis Memorial United Methodist Church on West Beverley, for instance, has more than two acres fronting on one of the city’s principal gateways, as well as several vacant and near-vacant buildings. It also has a dwindling congregation and can afford only a part-time pastor. Heating and cooling costs for its large sanctuary are so high that the church frequently holds services in other spaces on the property that have lower ceilings. How much more productively could that property be used?

Or consider Christ United Methodist Church on Churchville Avenue, also a Staunton gateway. A potential candidate for revitalization rather than repurposing, Christ United sits on five acres that present several development possibilities. Some of that land, for example, could be used for housing or a mixed-use development that would generate revenue for the church, thereby creating an income stream that offsets declining financial support from a diminishing congregation. But here, too, it might take creative city outreach to set such a change in motion.

Other iffy assets

Numerous though they are, Staunton’s churches are hardly the only large buildings that are under-utilized or facing obsolescence. Two of the most notable are the vacant and decaying Ingleside Resort, on the north end of town, and the spooky, shuttered sanitarium next to the Frontier Culture Museum. The former apparently is mentioned nowhere in the comprehensive plan. The latter gets a nod in one of the two appendices, in which attendees at an open house suggested the “DeJarnette campus” has development potential. No explanation or context is provided for that description, which would be meaningless for Staunton residents without a good historical grounding, and no attempt is made in the plan to explore the development potential of either property.

An even larger property within the city, widely referenced by the plan as a notable asset while avoiding a direct examination of its precarious outlook, is Mary Baldwin University. The plan does make a brief suggestion that the city should “develop plans for what to do if the worst-case scenarios unfold,” but then fails to describe what those scenarios might be or how the city might respond. That’s unfortunate. The university encompasses 58 acres of prime land and multiple buildings, including dorms that could be repurposed as low-income housing. While closing the campus would be a significant loss to the city, it would open other possibilities to which Staunton should be ready to respond in a timely fashion.

In addition to such major examples, Staunton has numerous vacant buildings whose existence the plan acknowledges but doesn’t address, beyond mentioning that it would be a good idea to inventory them. We’ve known that for years, of course, but for some reason such an inventory has yet to be assembled, which means the city is often flying blind when trying to match unmet needs with unused assets. One example is the city’s recurring failure to find space for a day shelter for the homeless—even though there is, and has been for quite some time, a vacant storefront right next to city hall, as well as several vacant buildings on South Augusta Street, all of which would be more than sufficient for the purpose. And then there’s the former Coca Cola bottling plant at the intersection of Augusta and Churchville streets, which at one point was eyed as a possible brewery but which remains empty year after year.

How is that we have people who need a roof over their heads, and buildings that have roofs but no tenants? And how is it that such an obvious pairing of needs and resources goes unaddressed in the city’s “comprehensive” plan?

Infrastructure

Sewer and stormwater systems are among the infrastructure elements that make it possible for more than 25,000 people to live in close and supportive proximity to each other. But so is the network of water mains and pipes that delivers potable water to every city home and business, and while the comprehensive plan has much to say about storm water it is almost entirely silent about the drinking kind.

That may be the inevitable result of the very visible destruction caused by recent flooding, leading to the plan’s emphasis on storm water management, versus the comparative invisibility of the water that’s being moved underground. On the other hand, last year’s major water-main break came in the middle of the comprehensive plan’s drafting process and should have been top of mind. Instead, the plan says nothing at all about pipes that are now more than a century old, or about a water delivery system that loses more than one in every four gallons that are pumped into it—a rate nearly twice the national average—or about the $40 million to $50 million the city says it will need to fix these problems.

The city shows no sign of knowing where that money will come from. This plan won’t be any help in that regard.

Economic development

To read the comprehensive plan, you might think that the only economic vitality in Staunton is centered on the downtown area, and that the only kind of business the city wants to attract is the kind that plays well with tourists: outdoor recreation, arts and music festivals, restaurants, galleries, theaters, pop-up markets and so on. If the city wants to attract manufacturing of any sort, you wouldn’t know it from this document. Nor would you know what kind of business development the city would like to see along Greenville Avenue or Route 250.

But the plan’s biggest economic oversight is the blind-eye it turns toward Staunton Crossing, which it mentions not at all despite the millions of dollars already poured into that industrial park’s development. That may be because among the park’s targeted industries is a data center, with all the electricity and water consumption issues and controversy that entails—reason enough, perhaps, to just pretend that there’s no “there” there. Unfortunately, that also means there is no consideration in the plan of possible alternatives for the park, such as manufactured housing or solar panels and batteries, which would create many more long-term jobs than a data center and at a far lower social and environmental cost.

Ignoring the inevitable

Unlike blind spots, which refer to things the plan simply doesn’t acknowledge, there are several problems or issues the comprehensive plan does see—and then ignores.

Homelessness

As mentioned above, the new comprehensive plan goes where the old one didn’t by recognizing the centrality of housing to virtually every aspect of the city’s vitality, from economic development to meeting educational needs to community health. And as have other plans that seek community input, the draft plan acknowledges public concern about the consequences of inadequate affordable housing. When plan consultants conducted what they describe as “public intercepts,” housing was the number one concern voiced by the people they encountered, by far. Attendees at an open house highlighted “the lack of focus on vulnerable populations, particularly homelessness, in current plans.” Vision statements for the city called for “more services for the unhoused.”

So it comes as a surprise that the comprehensive plan presents not even one suggestion for meeting the needs of people who lose their homes, even as it gives pro forma recognition to “the challenges faced by people facing homelessness.” Instead, it deflects. Housing is a “national issue,” the plan explains, presumably as much beyond local control as climate change. “Local efforts are unlikely to ‘solve’ the housing affordability problem.” (Bye-bye, Staunton Housing Commission?)

But failing to “solve” the housing affordability problem, it should go without saying, only guarantees that the number of people who are homeless will continue to grow. Indeed, Alec Gunn, executive director of the Waynesboro Area Relief Ministries, says that demand this past winter for overnight emergency shelter grew 26% over the previous year, even as the number of churches willing to provide such shelter is declining. Efforts to create a day shelter for the homeless have been even more ragged, with a church that was intermittently open for that purpose last summer—a first—declining to do so again this year.

Regarding all this and more having to do with homelessness, the comprehensive plan is silent.

Student population growth

While the plan draft acknowledges that Staunton’s public schools are at or beyond “functional capacity,” its forecast of what that means for the future is tentative at best—even as it cites the possibility of “urgent space management.” “If” current population growth continues, the plan states, “further modular units and long-term facility expansions will be necessary.” But the plan makes no effort to project how much the student population may grow, or in what parts of the city, basically deferring to Staunton City Schools to “assess current conditions and identify future infrastructure, modernization and capacity needs.”

That may be appropriate in jurisdictions where there is greater distance between municipal and pedagogical governance, but the two are intertwined more tightly in Staunton. The city, because of its planning and zoning responsibilities, is in a better position than the school district to assess future growth patterns. At the same time, the city inevitably will be involved in whatever financing is needed for new school buildings, and possibly for expansion or renovation of existing facilities, suggesting that city planning for such developments should be more proactive than the comprehensive plan contemplates.

In closing . . .

To the extent that the revised comprehensive plan is more user-friendly than its predecessor, thanks to more graphics and minimized text, it may pull in more eyeballs and thereby increase public engagement. That’s a good thing. The not-so-good thing is that such overly visual and summarized presentations tend to diminish critical analysis, acting like cotton candy for the brain: long on mouth-feel, but neither filling nor nutritious.

Much of what the comprehensive plan presents is a distillation of the aspirational and critical comments it received from the public in multiple forums—and yes, that’s also a good thing. But most of that feedback was in response to alternatives presented by the plan’s architects (for this feature, do you prefer A or B?), which means public input was largely limited to the subjects and choices it was given. That’s why the plan has so many blind spots, and presumably many more than the few I’ve offered. And when the public was given a more open-ended opportunity to voice concerns, subjects it raised that didn’t fit within the plan’s parameters often would be acknowledged but then ignored.

Making 20-year decisions based on how many colored dots ended up on a series of easels, which was one of the primary methods used to solicit public feedback, is better than casting a series of animal bones onto a blanket to divine the future. But not that much better.

A solid ‘A’ on Staunton’s report card

(Reading time: 5 minutes)

Staunton city council received its biannual report card this past week, giving council members every reason to feel downright chipper. But it’s not all wine and roses, and a couple of red flags popped up.

The report card was Staunton’s second National Community Survey (NCS), which every two years polls city residents on a wide range of topics about city services and quality of life. The survey also compares Staunton’s responses with those of more than 400 other cities that the NCS also surveys, as well as with a smaller subset of that group that more closely matches Staunton demographically. The good news? Staunton’s residents overwhelmingly feel good about their community, and in almost every instance give it higher marks than they did just two years ago. Moreover, Staunton residents rate their city as high or higher than their counterparts in the comparison groups, with only a couple of exceptions.

City residents should look at the survey results to draw their own conclusions, but there are a handful of findings I think are worth singling out. Most encouraging, perhaps, is the great increase in public confidence in city government after several new council members took office in 2024, ending a turbulent few years of contending factions on that governing body. As a result, more city residents think their government is honest, open and transparent, up 15%, and more of them believe their government is acting in their best interests and welcomes resident involvement, up 14%.

Although the great majority of responses were similar to those of two years ago—this year’s survey has a 95% level of confidence, but in its comparisons with 2024, the difference has to exceed 5.97% to be statistically significant—27 items had an upward trend and five ratings decreased. The drops, notably, included a 10% decline in ease of travel by public transportation and a 9% decrease in the overall quality of utility infrastructure. More about both those downturns in a moment.

In addition to overall trends, a key measure in the NCS survey is the gap between the quality of a service or resource and its importance to the respondent. In most cases the weights given to those measures are quite close to each other, but for the two most important categories, there’s a yawning chasm between importance and quality: the city’s economic health was rated at 94% for importance, but got only a 49% rating for quality—and that’s down from 53% two years ago. And the city’s utility infrastructure, rated at 92% for importance, was dinged at merely 57% for quality.

The economic health rating was consistent with the answers to other, similar questions. While Staunton got high marks for the quality of its business and service establishments and the vibrancy of its downtown, those rating its economic development as excellent or good declined to 47% from 51% in 2024—not statistically significant, but suggestive nonetheless. That response also dovetails with a remarkably low 15% replying positively to the question, “What impact, if any, do you think the economy will have on your family income in the next 6 months?” That’s down from 23% two years ago, and while it’s not a Staunton-specific question, it does attest to a broader anxiety that colors local perceptions.

Meanwhile, the gap between the importance of the city’s utility infrastructure and its quality points to two problems with this kind of survey. One is the lack of precision, leaving it up to the respondent to decide what “utility infrastructure” means: does that refer to city-owned and operated utilities, principally water and sewer? Or does it include utilities in the city that are non-municipal monopolies, such as gas and electric, over which the city has little control? The second problem is one of timing, which in this case might have influenced the answers of city residents who lost water shortly before the survey was conducted because of a massive main rupture—or who might have been disgruntled instead by a sudden spate of street closures due to work by Columbia Gas, which also occurred around the time of the survey.

In other words, are Staunton residents waking up to the long overdue need to upgrade a century-old water distribution system, or are they simply unhappy because of ill-timed work by a private utility?

Finally, no summary of high- or low-points would be complete without mention of two of its lowest-rated aspects: the availability of affordable quality housing, which came in at 23%, and the city’s care of its vulnerable residents, down from 44% last year to 38% now. No surprise there, albeit distressingly so. If there’s any silver lining, it’s that both those findings are similar to those of other cities—which only means that we’re no worse than anyplace else, although that’s hardly praiseworthy.

The bottom line, it’s fair to say, is that Staunton’s residents really, really like living here, they feel that the city government is working in everyone’s best interests, but they’re also economically anxious and unsure about the future. Sounds like a solid ‘A,’ but with room for improvement.

P.S. I said I’d get back to the decline in ease of travel by public transportation. That’s another of those questions that is clouded in ambiguity, but I’ll submit again the roundly ignored recommendation I’ve made before: after spending more than a million bucks on upgrading the BRITE Bus hub on Lewis Street, would it be a budget breaker to post maps and schedules on the bus shelters? “Ease of travel” begins with knowing where the buses go, and when.

Put your money where your mouth is

(Reading time: 5 minutes)

If you want to understand a person’s core values and priorities, don’t listen to what they say: look at how they spend their money. Cash has a more honest vocabulary than cheap words.

As much can be said for governments. Staunton is now formulating its spending plans for the next fiscal year, and they speak volumes about the problems and opportunities the city recognizes—and those it chooses to ignore or simply not see. Anyone thinking of living in the city beyond next year should be looking at those numbers and realizing what they mean, for them and for their neighbors. What does our municipal spending say about what we think is really important?

Much of the city’s annual budget is devoted to operating expenses—paying for past decisions—but it also includes a Capital Improvement Plan that in many cases accounts for decisions yet to be made. Known informally as the CIP, this running five-year wish list that gets updated annually describes what city planners think we need, how much they think it will cost and how they think we should pay for it. To see their conclusions, you can review the current 153-page draft online, or you can attend the Feb. 19 meeting of the city’s planning commission at city hall, where it will hold a public hearing on the CIP before submitting it to city council a week later.

What’s in the CIP? A tad over $47 million in spending, which is a $3.4 million increase over the five-year plan adopted by city council just a year ago. Where that money is to be spent can be loosely grouped into three categories. One is the things for which Stauntonians have been clamoring for years, such as more sidewalks, improved park facilities, revitalization of the West End and Uniontown, etc. A second is things that the people who run and operate our city say they need to do their jobs more effectively, from relocating the police department from city hall to a yet-to-be-built headquarters building (with an estimated price tag of $23.4 million), to buying new fire trucks and maintenance vehicles, to reroofing various city facilities. Both those categories have some wiggle room, since they’re largely based on “good or even prudent to have or do” items but are not “essential must-haves right now.”

The third general category is less forgiving, encompassing either imminent or already real infrastructure failures. The current poster child for this category is the flood-damaged tunnels in the Wharf district, for which the CIP is reserving $8 million for repairs. That’s a strong statement about how the Wharf district is viewed as a critical aspect of the city’s commercial and economic health, and it’s hard to rebut that premise.

But now consider that the CIP proposes to set aside a mere $250,000 for its “affordable and workforce housing fund,” which was established last year in response to the city council’s “Staunton Plan,” in which “affordable housing and housing for working families was prioritized.” It’s not unreasonable to observe that reserving less money over six years than would suffice to buy a single average-priced home in Staunton suggests the city’s “priorities” in this case exist primarily on paper—a perception strengthened by the laziness that went into crafting the description of this initiative, which was lifted directly out of last year’s CIP and so describes future events that have already happened.

A further indication of how this is a token effort is seen when the stingy housing fund is contrasted with, oh, I don’t know—how about the $360,000 reserved over the same six years to buy new golf cars? I don’t play golf, but I have nothing against spending tax dollars on golf cars that become a revenue generator, and which provide yet another amenity that makes Staunton a special place for so many people. The problem is that amenities fall into the “nice to have” bucket, whereas affordable housing veers perilously close to the bucket into which we put the city’s commercial and economic health.

So there are problems with how capital improvements are balanced against each other. But an even bigger problem is how some capital spending is avoided altogether, despite what might appear as a screaming need to address an issue before it becomes a full-blown crisis. Exhibit A in this regard are the unfunded projects in the water fund CIP, which is separate from but issued in tandem with the much larger general-fund CIP. Those projects—there are four of them—are not only unfunded but also unscheduled, despite appearing in the CIP year after year, presumably because no one has been willing to tackle the ginormous problem of finding an extra $50 million or so to ensure Staunton’s water supply remains uninterrupted.

That water supply is delivered via 16- and 20-inch cast iron mains that are now 100 years old, which is at or beyond their expected service lives. Half of the water Staunton consumes is piped from a reservoir in the George Washington National Forest, 14 miles away. Replacing that pipeline, plus the one that feeds the city from Gardner Springs, would cost an estimated $41.5 million. Developing a backup well system to tap groundwater in a crisis, as recommended in a 2018 study that the city commissioned, would cost an additional $7,950,000—and while that may seem like an unnecessary “extra,” it bears pointing out that our part of the state is already under a drought warning.

Springs can run unexpectedly dry. So can reservoirs, at which point it will be a little late to start wishing the city had drilled those wells. But it’s all too tempting to kick big projects and capital expenditures like this down the road, when some other city council will be forced to deal with it—and with the angry city residents who will be demanding to know why there had been no planning for such a predictable calamity. The short answer will be that it was easier to respond to the many more voices lifted on behalf of other, cheaper improvements.