Craig City Council approves a major subdivision for the 25-acre Business and Industrial Park while updating public comment procedures for the first time since 1989.

What does it cost when the person talking at the podium decides they’ve had enough?
It costs the city a new rulebook. The public loses the ability to ramble on indefinitely, gaining instead a clearer understanding of who holds the floor and for how long. And the Craig City Council loses the ability to let debate run wild, indefinitely, into the night.
The question on the table during the May 26 meeting wasn’t just about procedure. It was about power. Who gets to speak? How long can they speak? And what happens when the clock runs out?
The answer arrived in the form of Resolution No. 20 (2026). City Attorney Heather Cannon noted that the city’s public comment procedures hadn’t been updated since 1989. That’s thirty-five years. Three and a half decades of oral arguments, interruptions, and side conversations that may have made sense when landlines were the height of technology but feel archaic now. The new resolution sets strict guidelines for speaker procedures, time limits, written comments, remote participation, and standards of decorum. Most notably, it limits oral public comment. The exact duration isn’t fully detailed in the brief, but the intent is clear: bring order to the chaos.
While the council wrestled with the mechanics of speech, they were simultaneously greenlighting the mechanics of growth.
Picture a 25-acre plot of land west of Ranney Street and north of First Street. It’s quiet now. Just dirt and potential. But Ryan Peterson, senior project manager of Antero Group, painted a different picture. He presented the completed master plan for the Craig Business and Industrial Park, a development designed to reshape the local economic landscape.
The plan calls for roughly 240,000 square feet of space. Eight buildings. Industrial, warehouse, office, and support space all rolled into one. The goal? Attract manufacturing, warehousing, aerospace, and outdoor recreation businesses. Create primary-sector jobs. Bring outside revenue into the local economy.
And that matters because the alternative is stagnation. Peterson noted the project’s goals include helping replace tax revenue lost from the anticipated decline of coal-related industries. It’s a pivot. A shift from digging for coal to building for the future.
The numbers are specific. Consultants estimate the industrial park could generate approximately $38.4 million in assessed value at full buildout. That translates to roughly $360,000 annually in property tax revenue. Not a fortune, but a steady stream. The estimated cost of developing the park ranges between $3.3 million and $4.1 million, excluding some off-site infrastructure improvements. Peterson noted the city has already secured a $2.5 million congressional spending grant to help fund infrastructure development. That leaves the city to cover the gap, but the financial risk is mitigated by federal money.
Later in the meeting, council unanimously approved the major subdivision sketch plan. The project moves into the next stages of design and engineering. It’s no longer just a concept on paper. It’s a legal reality.
Council members noted that the project has undergone extensive public review and discussion over the past several months. They weren’t rushing this. They were building it brick by brick, with input from the community.
The meeting also featured updates on several major city projects. Housing development. Transportation improvements. The newly completed Craig River Park. But the business park and the new public comment rules were the stars.
The new rules mean that when you stand up to speak at the next council meeting, you’ll have a timer. You’ll have a limit. You’ll have to follow the rules. It’s not about silencing voices. It’s about ensuring every voice gets heard within a reasonable timeframe.
The industrial park is about building a future. The new rules are about managing the present. Both are necessary. Both are happening.
Outside the council chambers, the wind blows across the high desert. The dirt on Ranney Street waits for the first foundation pour. Inside, the gavel falls. The next speaker steps up. The timer starts.





