Ideas in Development

I once worked with three Jedi Masters employed by The Nature Conservancy (TNC).  They master minded a wonderful sustainable development experiment on the Eastern Shore of Virginia.  This part of the Delmarva Peninsula was still very lovely and ecologically intact.  Indeed, it is listed by the UN as a bio-reserve.   

It is a major stopover for migrating birds heading south.  They stop at the tip of this area, rest and eat, preparing for a 20-mile flight over the entrance to Chesapeake Bay that separates Cape Charles from the Norfolk-Virginia Beach area.  This is the straightest, shortest distance between these two points and obviously a great route for a bird.

Humans, lacking wings, need a boat or must drive on a long toll road and tunnel.  The road itself boasts a great view of the Atlantic Ocean in one direction and the Chesapeake Bay in the other.  The long toll road and “bridge” are awesome engineering accomplishments.  Since their construction, real estate prices on the Shore have risen significantly.  Delmarva’s two counties—especially Northampton—are now well-positioned for commerce and spillover population growth.  Indeed, the absence of an easy way across the sound kept the Eastern Shore more culturally distinct, less populated, and under-developed than the rest of Virginia.  Correspondingly, poverty rates in Delmarva were higher than in many other parts of the Commonwealth.    

But poor places are often pristine places as well.  The area’s isolation made it what The Nature Conservancy called “one of the last great places.”

Now that I have described the theatre of action, who were these Jedi Knights and why do I regard them as “masters”?

I did not personally witness what transpired and led to their knighthood—I did not see any kneeling, the sword touching the shoulder, the use of a “plumber’s helper” instead of sword, whatever.  And you probably would have had to been impaired a bit to accept that they deserved this honor—as, I suspect, they were when they came up with it.

Yet their personalities and skills were varied and legendary.  Greg Low was an MBA, a former “frat rat,” lover of sixties soul music and self-described as the most conservative environmentalist you would ever meet.  But Greg broke all these molds as well, starting when he helped to integrate a high school.  After graduating from college, Greg became one of TNC’s “real estate guys” —he negotiated and bought a lot of property, became Vice President of Finance, helped to design an evaluation and benchmarking scheme for analyzing an ecosystem, and launched a collaborative effort with Delmarva’s residents to protect an entire ecological system.  He was a “radical”, particularly when it came to embracing and implementing major changes in TNC’s customary ways of doing business.

Bill Weeks was an attorney and the Chief Operating Officer of TNC.  He also had the ear of TNC’s President at that time, John Sawhill.  He, like Greg, had also been with the Conservancy for a long time and held numerous jobs there.  He also combined a concern with getting things done, with being a “big thinker.” At one point, he took a sabbatical for the purpose of finishing a fascinating book, Beyond the Ark (published by Island Press).  This book provided the intellectual framework for this new mega-operation.

Weeks, along with Low, believed strongly that if TNC continued what they were doing so effectively—purchasing and saving millions of acres of land across the globe—the organization would fail in its mission.  Despite the fact that TNC was the largest environmental organization in the world, had a sexy but mainstream image of saving the Earth’s most precious and endangered flora and fauna, and raised money, money, money, they would never have enough cash to buy all the land in need of conservation.  Likewise, TNC’s very successful efforts to persuade land-owners to place restrictive covenants in their deeds to preserve their land as working farms, so it would not be turned into a condo village when sold, could also never reach the necessary scale.  Even if these efforts were successful, it was politically impossible to seize a territory large enough to constitute a functioning ecosystem.

Bill’s book pointed out that you could distinguish three categories of land in a larger eco-system: (1) land that would be put out of circulation and left untouched; (2) land that was still privately owned and possibly worked commercially but deed-restricted from becoming, say, a parking lot; and (3) private land that was zoned for development and free enterprise.

Here’s the problem.  TNC could do everything right on items one and two and fail abysmally if a county council agreed to sell landfill space for New York City garbage or locate a plant in a location that ultimately harmed the oyster beds twenty miles away.  So, the Conservancy needed to create a partnership with locals to plan and manage growth, to strengthen those current economic uses that practiced good stewardship, and to promote new compatible development projects and ventures.

Last, but not least of the Jedi was John Hall, the Virginia Coast Preserve manager, who lived on the peninsula and invested heavily in the areas social capital, seeking to identify and cultivate area leadership.  A biologist by education, a master storyteller, a great fundraiser and salesman, John was a subtle practitioner of the art of community organizing.  His method was described “as pushing from the back of the caboose.”  Another slogan that guided his work was, “You have to make deposits before you make withdrawals.”  In fact, before John was hired, TNC had made numerous mistakes that needed to be atoned for before relations with the community could warm. 

This series of errors had culminated in a great deal of “secret” land purchasing.  The County Manager knew about the land sales, but did not know for whom private firms were buying thousands of acres.  Greg and John had to invest many hours in getting trust established and creating a workable partnership with the region.

I met Greg when he asked if I would be interested in organizing a broad-based community and economic development process.  The two of us visited the Shore and I met John and a number of other souls.

I was asked to come back and meet about 30 citizens in a courtroom (space for meetings was scarce) and convince them that I was the man.  It started well, but the nay-sayers began changing the atmosphere and weakening my chances.

I was asked to wait outside while they discussed the job privately.  There was nothing to do outside while I waited.  It was hot and humid.  The building next to the court was the jail and I could hear the inmates talking and yelling.  It was almost pitch-black and I kept imagining that Boo Radley from “To Kill a Mockingbird” would appear from the shadows.   After 20 long minutes, the meeting concluded and few folks came out, smiled broadly and said that we had a deal. 

Look for Part 2 on Wednesday