Month: May 2001

To The Citizens of Memphis:

The Heisley group will do the same to your city as they did to ours. Mr. Heisley accumulated his wealth by purchasing and flipping failing businesses, do not think for one minute that if a better deal comes along a couple of years after the team moves to your city that he will not pull the team again. Below I will share some key indicators which may serve as a warning sign to the good people of your city.

HOW TO MOVE AN NBA TEAM

1. Hire a snake oil salesman as G.M.

2. Hire a rookie head coach (instead of Lenny Wilkins, who would have loved to come to Vancouver).

3. Hold training camp in California instead of the home city.

4. Do not attempt to contact season-ticket holders in the off-season to renew seats.

5. Do not attempt to market the team to the corporate community.

6. Kiss of death (have owner sing national anthem at the season opener).

Why doesn’t Heisley fund your new stadium himself? It makes sense for a sports franchise to own its building, revenue generated by concessions, parking, special events, and concerts would diversify his investment, reduce risk, and also show he is in for the long term. Or would it be easier to have taxpayers fund the venture, reduce commitment, and leave the door open for a move down the road if he chooses?

Nail this guy down, or Memphis will be in trouble.

Ralph Lay

Vancouver Canada

Memphians need look no further than a “No Taxes NBA” yard sign to see that the debate on getting an NBA team here is centered on who will pay for the arena.

To aid in the financing of the proposed arena, Memphis Light, Gas and Water has pledged to contribute approximately $50 million to the arena from its Water Division. However, some Memphis business owners and residents have speculated that if MLGW has the money to contribute to the arena financing plan, then that money should instead be applied to a rate decrease.

MLGW president Herman Morris, when he was head of the utility’s legal department, had a similarly conservative view on what money belonged to the utility and what belonged to its customers. The Flyer recently obtained a legal memorandum written by Morris on March 30, 1995, and addressed to MLGW’s then-president Bill Crawford, detailing the utility’s obligations to its rate-payers {the complete memo appears at the end of this story}.

Though the document Morris prepared for Crawford was written to address the legality of the commingling of funds within the utility, Morris also discusses the utility’s responsibility to rate-payers with regard to any surplus funds. In the nine-page memorandum, Morris states that, under the utility’s charter, surplus funds in any MLGW division are the property of rate-payers and must be applied to a rate decrease.

“It is my opinion that . . . a Tennessee court could find that the customers of MLGW who are entitled to have the surplus funds used to reduce their rates have a property interest in such funds, and further, that MLGW holds those funds in trust for those customers,” Morris’ memo reads.

Under the proposed financing plan, MLGW has pledged to contribute approximately $2.5 million a year in “payment in lieu of taxes” (PILOT) money, for a total of about $50 million over a 23-year period.

Morris’ 1995 legal interpretation may give opponents of the NBA financial plan added ammunition in their battle to keep tax-paid dollars out of the deal. Whether or not MLGW can contribute to the financing of the arena seems to hinge on the definition of “surplus.” And while some rate-payers think MLGW should apply surplus money to a rate decrease, the city of Memphis and MLGW don’t see the money as surplus.

Tom Jones, senior advisor to Shelby County mayor Jim Rout, offers this explanation of MLGW’s PILOT funds:

“MLGW, as a public utility, does not pay property taxes. It pays payment in lieu of taxes [PILOT], rather than taxes, of an amount determined by the city and county government. MLGW has never paid a PILOT for the water department because there was a 30-year-old bond issued, and before now they have been paying off that bond. Those bonds are about to be paid off and for the first time the city has the opportunity to collect PILOT money from the water department and has chosen to earmark that money for the arena,” says Jones.

According to Marlin Mosby, bond consultant for the city of Memphis, without the proposed arena financing plan, MLGW would not have begun paying PILOT money to the city until 2012. Mosby says that under the current arena proposal, the city would “defease” the debt owed by the water department in order to free up money in the utility so that it can begin paying the city PILOT funds in July of this year. This PILOT money would go directly to the city, which has allocated it for the NBA arena.

Nashville attorney Patrick Flynn believes that such a plan would be contrary to the City of Memphis’ charter. “By definition, surplus funds are funds that are not needed at the present time,” says Flynn. “If the PILOT payments were not scheduled to be paid until 2012, then the money for those payments is not due at this time and is therefore surplus. As I understand the Memphis charter, surplus funds must go into a rate decrease for the MLGW rate-payers.”

Under the MLGW charter (which is included as an amendment to the charter of the city of Memphis), “Any surplus thereafter remaining over and above safe operating margins, shall be devoted solely to rate reduction.”

The charter says that all revenues the utility collects for the Water Division must be applied, in order, to six categories of expenditures. The charter also says that any “surplus” funds after the six categories have been satisfied must go to a rate decrease for MLGW customers.

Moreover, under the trustee relationship that Morris’ memo says is created between the utility and rate-payers, the utility is bound by law to act to the greatest benefit of the rate-payers.

“Obligations imposed by the MLGW charter … can be interpreted to impose a trustee relationship on MLGW as it relates to those rate-payers. If so, those rate-payers would have a property interest in the surplus funds and could bring suit to enjoin MLGW from transferring funds to other divisions … ,” the memo reads. He adds in the memo that depriving rate-payers of this property interest without “due process of law” would open the city up to lawsuits as rate-payers could seek to enjoin the city from transferring the money.

“Under the Tennessee Constitution, property interests are secured by the Constitution and cannot be taken away except by ‘due process of law’ or ‘the law of the land.’ If … the MLGW charter, by its terms, creates a legitimate property interest in its customers’ entitlement to a specific use of the surplus funds, procedural due process requires notice and an opportunity to be heard by a fair and impartial tribunal before the property right is taken away. A referendum on the Charter Amendment should satisfy this requirement,” reads Morris’ memo.

Morris also states that for the utility to legally act contrary to its charter, the charter must first be amended. However, his memorandum states that attempting to procure such an amendment “might also threaten the financial rating [AA] of MLGW, to the extent that it created a perception of confusion, instability, or financial problems.”

According to the memo, the liability is not limited to the city of Memphis and MLGW. He notes that not only could the city be held liable for depriving rate-payers of property rights, but that the “municipal officers” could be held personally liable as well. In this case, this personal liability would extend to Mayor Herenton, all members of the Memphis City Council, and to Morris himself.

The full text of Herman Morris’ 1995 memorandum to Bill Crawford

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I’m a solitary person by nature. It’s not that I’m mean or don’t want to talk to anybody, I just rather keep to myself: watch TV, do a puzzle, knit a sweater.

When I was younger and would play “pretend,” it was always me with a book, pretending I was alone somewhere, like on the high seas, reading a book. (Exciting, isn’t it? Actually sometimes I would play Star Wars or Super Heroes with the neighbor kids, but only if I got to be Princess Leia or Wonder Woman.)

If I had to guess, I’d say the solitude thing is a combination of me being shy and me being from a large family. Either way you look at it, it’s usually a relief to be alone. There’s no one forcing you to make conversation or sticking a wet finger in your ear when you’re trying to drive. It’s quiet and peaceful.

Recently, though, I’ve discovered that being alone also has its downsides.

Like the other day, after a hard day of fighting teenage girls at the sale racks at Wet Seal, I found myself at the mall’s food court. Now, normally, I don’t eat fast food. Butt, I was starving. As in, ready to eat an entire horse and then wash it down with one.

I decided to go to the Chick-Fil-A, mainly because I remembered from back in the day (read: before my metabolism slowed to a crawl) that one: their chicken is yum, and two: they’re closed on Sundays. I think it’s due to religious reasons — that’s what I’ve always heard. I guess, as a journalist, I could call someone up and confirm that rumor, but really, I don’t feel like it, and would anyone really care? No. Anyway, because it was Saturday, I knew that if I didn’t just pony up to the line, the next day I’d be thinking about Chick-fil-A and it would be Sunday and they’d be closed and then I’d go on some sort of caloric bender because of the craving.

But their line was longer than Christina Aguilera’s extensions (don’t even tell me that’s her real hair, ‘cause it’s not) and the people in line were not exactly happy about it. Finally I get up to the front of the line and order a grilled chicken Caesar salad. Then the counter boy mumbled, “What kind of dressing do you want?”

I was thrown. Because I wanted a Caesar salad, which doesn’t really have dressing, other than Caesar, but it should come with that (I mean, that is a Caesar salad, am I wrong? I sort of thought that the dressing was what made it Caesar). Anyway, like I said, I was thrown. Dressing?

Wary of the angry line-goers behind and all around me, I quickly looked up at the menu, spied the list of dressings, found the first one that appealed to me and said, “Honey mustard.”

That was a mistake.

As the boy worked on my order, I took some time to read the menu more closely and discovered that Caesar was a dressing you could choose (which says to me that if you wanted a Caesar, you could just buy a side salad and ask for the dressing and save yourself some money, which is what I’ll be doing next time).

But this time, I flagged down the counter boy and asked him if I could have Caesar dressing.

Five or so minutes later I was pushing limp lettuce and cold chicken (if it was grilled, it must have been prior to the Cold War) covered in honey mustard dressing around the plastic pan and frowning.

You see, there was no Caesar dressing with my order.

In an ordinary situation, I would have marched my patooty right back on up there, gotten my Caesar dressing, and would have forgotten all about it. But no, Chick-fil-A still had a monster line, I had been shopping all morning, and I was alone.

The alone thing was the main problem. I certainly couldn’t leave all my stuff unattended on the table, but I dreaded having to repackage the salad, grab all my bags — my purse alone weighs more than a small child — and go wait in line again. I just couldn’t do it. I ate the salad and now, days later, I’m still bothered by it.

I guess the saddest part is that there are tons of activities like that. Activities that you can go to alone, but it’s best not to. Like going to the movies. You can go alone, but it’s embarrassing.

And, you know what, it’s those times that I just wish someone was there to stick their wet finger in my ear.

( Mary Cashiola writes about life every Friday @ memphisflyer.com. You’re invited to come along.)

I know I am expected to rant about goofy things on this page — or at least I have been for the 11 years I’ve been writing this — but I’m taking a break this week. What follows is a commencement speech made by Anna Quindlen at Villanova University, sent to me by a friend, to whom I am very grateful. You may have already read it, but if not, please do. It says everything I want to say every day. I’ve had to edit it just a bit for length and to take out a couple of things that sound like self-help bumper stickers, which make my skin crawl, but here is most of it, and it’s far more profound than anything I might have to say — particularly during this time when public debate is raging about tax increases, the economy, the looming recession, etc. These are Anna Quindlen’s words: “It’s a great honor for me to be the third member of my family to receive an honorary doctorate from this great university. I have no specialized field of interest or expertise, which puts me at a disadvantage talking to you today. I’m a novelist. My work is human nature. Real life is all I know. Don’t ever confuse the two, your life and your work. The second is only part of the first. You will walk out of here this afternoon with only one thing that no one else has. There will be hundreds of people out there with your same degree; there will be thousands of people doing what you want to do for a living. But you will be the only person alive who has sole custody of your life. Your particular life. Your entire life. Not just your life at a desk or your life on a bus, or in a car, or at the computer. Not just the life of your mind, but the life of your heart. Not just your bank account but your soul. People don’t talk about the soul very much anymore. It’s so much easier to write a r sum than to craft a spirit. But a r sum is a cold comfort on a winter night, or when you’re sad, or broke, or lonely. . . . Here is my r sum : I am a good mother to three children. I have tried never to let my profession stand in the way of being a good parent. I no longer consider myself the center of the universe. I show up. I listen. I try to laugh. I am a good friend to my husband. I have tried to make marriage vows mean what they say. I am a good friend to my friends, and they to me. Without them, there would be nothing to say to you today. . . . So here’s what I wanted to tell you today: Get a life. A real life, not a manic pursuit of the next promotion, the bigger paycheck, the larger house. Do you think you’d care so very much about those things if you blew an aneurysm one afternoon or found a lump in your breast? Get a life in which you notice the smell of saltwater pushing itself on a breeze over Seaside Heights, a life in which you stop and watch how a red-tailed hawk circles over the water or the way a baby seal scowls with concentration when she tries to pick up a Cheerio with her thumb and first finger. Get a life in which you are not alone. Find people you love, and who love you. And remember that love is not leisure, it is work. Pick up the phone. Send an e-mail. Write a letter. Get a life in which you are generous. And realize that life is the best thing ever, and that you have no business taking it for granted. Care so deeply about its goodness that you want to spread it around. . . . All of you want to do well. But if you do not do good too, then doing well will never be enough. It is so easy to waste our lives, our days, our hours, our minutes. It is so easy to take for granted the color of our kids’ eyes, the way the melody in a symphony rises and falls and disappears and rises again. It is so easy to exist instead of to live. I learned to live many years ago. Something really, really bad happened to me, something that changed my life in ways that, if I had my druthers, it would never have been changed at all. And what I learned from it is what, today, seems to be the hardest lesson of all. I learned to love the journey, not the destination. I learned that it is not a dress rehearsal, and that today is the only guarantee you get. I learned to look at all the good in the world and try to give some of it back because I believed in it, completely and utterly. And I tried to do that, in part, by telling others what I had learned. By telling them this: Consider the lilies of the field. Look at the fuzz on a baby’s ear. Read in the backyard with the sun on your face. Learn to be happy. And think of life as a terminal illness, because if you do, you will live it with joy and passion, as it ought to be lived.” And there you have it. Put the cell phones down for just one minute, right now, and give that one some thought.