When does a difference of opinion between the county and the city become a dispute? Almost never, or so it seems from recent events. After a traffic evaluation by engineer Todd Whitaker, the public works director for Polk County, was pronounced partly wrong by Fred Evander, planning manager for Independence, Whitaker appeared to regard it only as a signal that the two may need to talk more.
"I am hopeful this can be resolved," Whitaker said, when asked about an Independence Planning Commission meeting this past spring, where some of his findings about the potential traffic impact from a planned development in the southwest section of the city were downplayed by Evander.
Whitaker, who oversees county roadways, had raised concerns about the number of drivers who might want to go south from a proposed intersection at Talmadge Road – predicting many would be likely to take it straight to Stapleton Road, once the subdivision is built.
“Part of what Mr. Whitaker said was not correct,” Evander told the commissioners. After looking over the trip data, Evander said he was confident some motorists would head north on Talmadge to Monmouth Street, linking to the highway from there.
The only planning commissioner to weigh in during the meeting was Rebecca Jay, who observed that “people are going to figure out pretty quick that they don’t have to go through downtown” in order to go south.
Whitaker said he continues to consider the future traffic pattern “a matter of concern.” But rather than issuing a challenge over it, he helped with Independence’s recent transportation system plan (TSP), as a member of the TSP’s technical advisory committee.
If it sounds like Whitaker is taking a soft-pedal approach to matters of county jurisdiction, it seems that he’s right in line with other county officials.
For example, Hanna Road, north of Independence, is mostly in the county. However, a small part of it, a length of about two blocks, is within an offshoot of Independence. "So, when the county repaved Hanna Road, that small portion was also paved," Mordhorst said. Such situations are not unique to Polk County, he added.
In its city charter, Independence defines itself as the territory surrounded by its boundaries. However, the Independence Bridge is an iconic example of the questions that can swirl over jurisdiction. Since Independence extended its urban growth boundary, and annexed land around the bridge, inquiries have arisen about cost-sharing in repairs anticipated for the bridge.
“We are currently in discussion with Independence about assuming a portion of the maintenance costs,” said Whitaker.
Polk County’s roadway extends to the center of the Independence Bridge, joining Marion County's half at the middle. Although Marion County is the lead agency for managing the maintenance of the bridge, Polk County pays some of that expense under an existing agreement with Marion County.
“We’ve reached out to the city, in the hope that we can have a team effort on this,” said Mordhorst.
Independence’s previous TSP – also referenced in the current one – states that “as city limits expand to encompass county road segments, ownership of these road segments is transferred to the city, so the roads may be maintained to urban standards.” The city will simultaneously annex land and the county roads “found within, or bordering, the newly annexed land,” according to the TSP.
However, Independence Mayor John McArdle said he was unaware of “any agreement for the city to own, operate, manage, fund” the bridge – a conclusion also reached by the city’s director of public works, Gerald Fisher.
“At this time, I have not seen any records indicating that the city has jurisdiction or any maintenance responsibility for the bridge, the intersection, or Corvallis Road,” Fisher said. “All of my mapping says that is under county control,” Fisher added.
Nearly 75 years ago, a joint endeavor to replace the nearly century-old ferry crossing was undertaken; Money for the bridge was raised through local fundraising, from state allocations, and by Marion and Polk counties, which both contributed 25% of the cost, according to accounts of the time. By the holiday season of 1950, the bridge was ready for a festive ribbon cutting.
In a special tribute to the bridge’s opening, an article five years ago in the Statesman-Journal looked into the archives of that day, and the report on the death that occurred. The son of Independence founder Henry Hill, Verd Hill, died from a sudden heart attack during that December ceremony, “slumped over in his chair on the dedication platform just two minutes before he was scheduled to speak.”
Recently, a jurisdiction issue unfolded on a smaller scale within the city, when resident Gary Brown inquired about the long-term parking of a large recreational vehicle along the north end of Stryker Road. When the Independence Police Department (IPD) got the call from Brown, the officer sent him to the Polk County Sheriff's Office instead, presuming that the stretch of street was within the county.
However, upon investigation, it turned out that the large vehicle was within the city’s jurisdiction, confirmed Polk County Sheriff Mark Garton. Towing it could have cost two-to-three thousand dollars, he said. But it wasn't just the potential cost that made his office reluctant to become more involved, he pointed out.
The IPD and the Sheriff's Office have a good relationship, he explained. "When something is outside our area, I don't want to encroach on another (agency's) area of responsibility," Garton said.
These "areas of responsibilities," which are sometimes referred to as jurisdictions, can be confusing to the public, and understandably so, he added. For example, if an incident in Independence demonstrates a need for mental health intervention, it becomes a matter for the sheriff's office. The "mobile crisis team" – a deputy and a clinician – is dispatched by the county. "There's a lot of complexity to this," Garton said.
In fact, the site that sparked the parking complaint isn’t actually in the city limits, but the road right-of-way belongs to the city, said Independence Police Chief Robert Mason. “I know this is confusing and has been confusing to the agencies trying to respond to the many complaints.”
The situation concluded in what some neighbors called “a happy ending.” Stryker Road now has a series of no-parking signs where the recreational vehicle once parked, thanks to the Independence Police Department – and to “Citizen Brown,” as he was dubbed by friends for his repeated follow-up on the issue over several weeks.
Asked if the outcome might be as favorable for the Independence Bridge, Polk County Commissioner Mordhorst said he’s hopeful that an amicable agreement between the county and city can be reached.
And, because Independence recently lost its city manager and the police chief is temporarily in that role, Mordhorst said he believes that pressing the issue isn't as important as giving the city time to adjust to recent changes. He wants "to build rapport" with Independence, Mordhorst stressed. "I think we have the time to do that," he added.
Working in tandem on the Independence urban growth boundary – including annexation and jurisdictional matters – apparently is just what the Polk County Board of Commissioners and the City of Independence had in mind 28 years ago, when the two agencies entered into an intergovernmental agreement pledging to have a “cooperative process” in which jurisdictional issues were reviewed. When disagreements occurred, both the commission and the city council promised to meet “to discuss a resolution of the matter.”
The 1993 document, which was signed before Mayor McArdle or Commissioner Mordhorst were elected, is included in a comprehensive plan for Independence that was adopted 20 years ago – partially to plan for future needs, including ones of jurisdiction.
Grammar Advocates See Signs in Independence Showing Need for Spell Checks
It started at the Starduster Café, the cozy diner on Airport Road where planes can be seen taking off and landing on the adjacent airfield. What was flying around one morning this past week at a corner table was a conversation about grammar violation.
That’s right. It was a discussion of an infraction involving the alleged misplacement of a hyphen, the little dash known for connecting words. The proof was right there on the roadway nearby, on two bright green adopt-a-street signs. The signs had the same wording but a different number of hyphens.
Over cups of hot coffee and steaming tea, the question arose: Who first spotted this “hyphen mismatch” on the two signs? No one knew for sure, but word was out that one of the two identical signs was missing a hyphen.
One local pilot explained that punctuation indeed is a vital matter. “Let’s eat grandma” is very different from “let’s eat, grandma,” he said. One comma “can make all the difference,” he stressed, though he declined to be identified for weighing in on whether a tiny hyphen could be considered significant on a sign.
So, it seemed appropriate to determine if other such grammar lapses on signage could be found on city streets, in a town where some people seem to take grammar usage seriously.
There are several examples, from Main Street to Monmouth Street. In fact, the list of these transgressions can be seen by any grammar advocate who has the time to drive randomly around during a busy holiday season just to look at whatever signs are in sight.
For years, the stately fire station of Polk County Fire District No. 1 has had a sign with hand-posted movable letters. This often results in messages with only a few words and, in windy weather, some letters seem prone to blowing off. News of pancake feeds and other events also get soiled in downpours.
This prompted the fire district to seek approval for a better, more modern and stable sign, which is anxiously awaited by personnel there, according to Fire Chief Ben Stange. However, the current hitches in the supply chain have meant delays in its assembly.
“The good news is the parts they've been waiting on are in the US,” he said. The bad news is “at last check, they were in a shipping container in Long Beach,” he added. “So, unfortunately, we're still looking at a couple months,” he explained.
When wreaths went up for sale in Independence -- advertised with pointing arrows on hand-written signs -- no one seemed to have trouble reading them, despite the fact that the name for the circular door decorations had been written incorrectly on one along Monmouth Street.
“Well, you can tell what they mean,” said one of those who passed by. However, the homeowner of the house where the sign was placed didn’t seem to see it the same way. “The sign in my yard drives me nuts,” she stated, noting that she has removed it but “it gets put back.”
In Pioneer Park, a sign that labels a dog-waste station could be mistaken for a disposal unit for canine marijuana. Called “DogiPot,” it has been a “head-scratcher” for certain dog walkers.
Actually, that’s the name of a well-known brand of industrial dog supplies, including “earth-ready” bags for collecting defecation. However, the lettering, and lack of explanation, is apparently seen as amusing by a few who use the park. The company has a website that helpfully describes all of its products, which are related solely to canine clean-up.
A sign in a parking space at Central High School, which seems to be celebrating a return to in-person school, hopefully proclaims graduation in 2020 – but the date is no mistake. The painted sign on the pavement actually is a leftover from a pre-covid fundraiser in which seniors bought designated parking spaces, according to Emily Mentzer, communication coordinator for Central School District 13J.
“It wasn't done last year because students were, for the most part, not on campus,” she reported. And it wasn't done this year because fall has been so busy getting back into school, she added.
Did the senior graduate? That couldn’t be verified but there’s a good chance of it. More than 80% got their diploma that year.
On Main Street, the Elks Club weekend dinner – with a posted marquis sign that announced a “YUM” bowl this past week – turned out to be referencing an actual name, rather than initials for a special dinnertime fare.
The bowl is not called “yummy” because, although it is, it actually imitates a dish made by the Yumm Café. “We did our own version,” explained Beverly Bunch, a volunteer and Elks Club member, when asked why there was no additional “m” at the end.
The Elks YUM bowl creation has beans, rice, cilantro, tomato, black olives and other ingredients, she said. It also includes the kind of sauce used by the Yumm Café, “which you can buy,” she advised.
Down the block from where the YUM bowls were being prepared on Friday, Paul Sieber, who had a large dental practice for many years, pondered the importance of grammar when asked about it as he was finishing lunch at the Ovenbird Bakery.
Some ways of communicating give clues as to underlying heritage, he pointed out. He cited what is sometimes referred to as “Pennsylvania Dutch,” which he called a charming but sometimes different way of speaking. “Throw the cow over the fence some hay,” is one such common example, he said.
One of the participants in the conversation that kicked off the topic at the Starduster Café, Amy Jackson, also was asked how important she thought grammar skills can be.
After all, when a sign selling Christmas wreaths is misspelled, people who see the sign still know what is being sold; When someone utters a sentence with the wrong verb tense, it isn’t likely to be misunderstood. True, she agreed.
“But if you use good grammar, there are times when, maybe, it might help you,” Jackson said, noting that correct use of grammar may be evident, even impressive, in situations ranging from a pre-employment interview to on-the-job interactions.
Language is “communication and communication is so important,” she observed. Jackson has a reputation for good communication – for using impeccable grammar among friends in her north Independence neighborhood. However, she’s also known for not imposing her grammar standards on others. But right there in her kitchen, and sometimes even on her tabletop, is a large ceramic cup with the words “I’m silently correcting your grammar.”