Kafka meets local government

The federal government is too distant, right? It's too far removed from the concerns of real people to be responsive to anybody but those with high-level political connections. State government is hardly any better; you're still talking about a distant capital and professional politicians with a taste for boundless power and little concern for the consequences of their actions. But local government -- that's better. You see the city council members at the market, you share a beer with them at the bar -- there's a human connection that makes all the difference, right?

Maybe not. Read on.

The Haunted Hamburger is a destination restaurant in the old mining town of Jerome, Arizona. With stunning views out over the Verde Valley, good burgers and beer, and a location in a borderline ghost town (population in the 1920s: 15,000; population now: less than 500) it's a common place for tourists and locals to end up after strolling through town to gape at abandoned buildings and hit the shops and galleries. Recently, though, the Haunted Hamburger seemed destined to join Jerome's status as the fourth-largest city in the state on the list of do-ya-remember conversation topics.

In an op-ed for the Verde Independent, Haunted Hamburger owner Eric Jurisin details his run-ins with a bureaucracy that's definitely punching above its weight in red tape.

In March 2007 I heard through the "grapevine" that the use of the upstairs of our restaurant had changed, was unsafe, and we were going to be shut down. We thought surely there must be a mistake because diners have been seated in the upstairs of the restaurant for the last 30-some years without incident and with town approval. ...

Finally, in response to our numerous requests, a meeting was held in June at the Haunted Hamburger. We were given a list of four minor corrections to make. We said we would comply to avoid any issues with the town and be certain that our restaurant was safe and open for business. We got a building permit as directed, and completed the work in less than nine days and happily went back to Town Hall thinking this matter was being resolved. We told Jeanne Trupiano, Planning and Zoning director, that all of the work was finished and ready for inspection.

Imagine our surprise when she informed us that although we completed all of the requested work, and the town thanked us for our cooperation, the town decided that the upstairs portion of our restaurant would be closed anyway and we should talk to Fire Chief Molloy.

Thoroughly frustrated, we wrote to the town's attorney, Phyllis Smiley, again asking why the Haunted Hamburger was targeted for closure and what else needed to be fixed. Initially, she was as flabbergasted as we were. She said she would investigate and get back to us. The attorney told us that the fire chief still thought there were building code violations at the restaurant. We asked again what they were. She would not tell us. At this point we had written no less than six letters to the Town asking them to specify their concerns so we could address them. As a last-ditch effort, we went to Chief Molloy offering to sprinkler the building and we were told that was not an acceptable solution.

Did we get a list of what was an acceptable solution? No, instead Chief Muma served me with a criminal citation vaguely alleging our building was unsafe along with an order from the town closing the entire restaurant. The town said the upstairs was unsafe. We were stunned at this turn of events. When we questioned why the entire building was being closed, he replied ... "just the upstairs, for now." ...

Our building was the only one being cited for criminal violations. The town prosecutor, Kenton Jones, was surprised that a criminal citation had been issued by Chief Muma. In spite of Mr. Jones' initial reaction, he could give no specific explanations for charges and refused to dismiss the charges. Having had no success with the town officials or their attorneys, we made a written appeal to the Town Council. Surely, the chief of police and the fire chief could not close our restaurant without an appeal process. The town's attorney rejected the appeal in a one-paragraph letter, saying we needed to appeal to the Appeal Board. The Appeal Board does not exist.

The issue has now been settled for about $50 in repairs to a fire escape and promises of future alterations. In a news account of the settlement hearing, we get a timeline of the dealings between the restaurant and the town leading to the recent conflict:

[Attorney John] Phillips said Jurisin's reputation was tarnished by the town as a "do-nothing merchant" in terms of fire safety, and recited the history of the Haunted Hamburger second floor.

In 1993, the restaurant operator was told that he would need to make a couple of changes in order to seat more than nine customers upstairs. Those changes included roof repairs and the creation of a second fire escape. The town building inspector at the time, Michael Kamrar, also a carpenter, offered to design and build the second fire escape. And in 1994, the emergency exit was "designed, built and approved," he said.

In 2002, the town complained because the fire escape had been built through a bathroom that locked on the inside. Jurisin agreed to take out the bathroom.

Then in 2007, the restaurant started to hear that the town wanted changes again, this time "a four-story fire escape."

Phillips said that there was no notice, no chance for appeal, and no opportunity to talk with town officials when the police chief posted a closure notice. The attorney noted that even though the building code calls for a board of appeal on such town actions, the town has no such board to appeal to.

At that hearing, witnesses for the restaurant include former Town Clerk Al Palmieri and former Fire Chief Dave Hall. Hall's testimony is particularly revealing, since he's the official who signed off on the fire escape that current Jerome officials now find inadequate.

By Hall's own admission, the fire escape he signed off on -- which was designed and constructed by the town building inspector -- doesn't meet code. That means the Haunted Hamburger faced potential closure of the business and repair costs imposed by town officials for code violations that were approved by town officials. Following procedures and getting the proper permissions isn't enough; now town residents are expected to shoulder the burden if the government officials administering those procedures and issuing those permissions violate their own rules along the way.

Damned if you do and damned if you don't.

As for that appeals board that's supposed to handle conflicts between locals and officials but which just doesn't exist? The local paper has editorialized that Jerome just might want to consider giving the thing some life.

There's a lot of romantic talk in American political life about local government being the most responsive and representative level of government -- the one at which most matters should be handled. I think that's probably true -- for what little it's worth. In reality, Eric Jurisin's experience demonstrates that proximity to the people doesn't mean that much. In a town of 500 residents, a savvy and well-established local business owner was still taken on a tour of a bureaucratic maze that could have destroyed him. The sole value of local government in this case was that Jurisin was able to put his reputation to work to drum up public support, and the town of Jerome didn't have the near-endless resources of a state or federal agency to draw on when a legal battle became inevitable.

State, federal, local -- it doesn't matter. When you hand coercive power to government officials, people suffer.

Update: Eric Jurisin, the owner of the Haunted Hamburger, agreed to drop his lawsuit against Jerome and its officials in return for the dismissal of a criminal citation against Jurisin. Legally, the matter has been settled, though it has left bad feelings in its wake. It has also left Jerome saddled with hefty legal fees.