Newmann Critiques Council's Ballroom and Arch Spending Plan

“All that glitters is not gold.”

That’s the opening line from Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice, and it’s the perfect caption for the current state of local infrastructure spending. We’re living in an era of shiny objects. Some folks are getting ballrooms, arches, and reflecting pools. The rest of us? We’re getting the short end of the proverbial stick.

Newmann figured it out after stewing on the disparity for a while. Why are our tax dollars funding structures we can’t enjoy, while our own community lacks the basics? The solution, apparently, is alchemy. Or at least, that’s what happens when you borrow from the education fund and the affordable health insurance fund to build a grand ballroom on top of the council building.

Let’s do the math on this “magnificent” plan. First, you tear down the council building. Why keep a place for debate when you can have a place for dancing? It’s healthier, apparently. Then, you borrow heavily from the local education fund. Maybe dip into the affordable health insurance fund if you need extra liquidity. The logic is sound: kids get a better education by admiring the architecture, and the sick get cheered up by the grandeur. Silver linings all the way around.

Then there’s the arch. Locating it at the summit of the pass makes sense if your goal is to block out the surrounding mountains. You want folks driving under a massive golden structure, blinded by its glory rather than the natural beauty of the valley. Funding? A fast-food chain. Naturally. They’ll cover the cost entirely, provided you emblazon their brand name in lights on both sides. It’s more spectacular than the current mountain views, assuming you don’t mind trading vistas for branding.

The reflecting pool is where the real engineering challenges lie. The local rec center pool is adequate for swimming, but terrible for reflection. So, the plan is to kick all the swimmers out. Raze the building. Put a lighted glass dome over the existing water. The light reflects off the glass, then off the water. You get your pool. You lose your swimmers.

It’s a simple transaction. You trade function for form. You trade the council chamber for a ballroom. You trade the mountain view for a fast-food logo. You trade swimmers for a glass dome.

The cost isn’t just in dollars. It’s in what we ignore. We ignore the fact that borrowing from education and health insurance funds to build a ballroom is a fiscal trick, not a strategy. We ignore that replacing a functional council building with a dancing hall doesn’t make governance more efficient; it just makes it louder. And we ignore that a reflecting pool is useless if no one can swim in it.

This isn’t development. It’s theater. And it’s expensive.

For context, consider what that borrowed money could have done. It could have fixed the roads. It might have funded actual healthcare. It would have built a bridge that doesn’t require a fast-food sponsor. Instead, we’re building a ballroom on a council building’s grave, an arch that blocks the view, and a pool that no one can use.

The shine is real. The value is questionable. And the bill is coming due.