Abe Lincoln told a story about the fellow who was tarred, feathered and run out of town on a rail.
“If it weren’t for the honor of the thing,” he allowed, “I’d have just as soon walked.”
Which brings me to Hastings.
Hastings got the honor of being an incorporated municipality in 1909. And for decades Florida’s “Potato Capital” was prosperous.
But by the time Hastings finally surrendered its articles of incorporation, in 2018, it was an empty husk of a town. Main Street was boarded up, and the iconic Potato Exchange building had been vacant for years.
Funny thing, though.
If you visit Hastings today, you will find it on the rebound.
Main Street is open for business, the old exchange is occupied and there’s a new library and community center.
Much of said revival made possible by St. Johns County.
Turns out municipal incorporation is of itself no magic bullet.
Indeed, Florida history is littered with cities and towns that surrendered their charters because it made no economic or political sense not to: Buena Vista, Delray, Federal Point, Mims, Osteen, Pompano …
…and of course, Newnansville. Once Alachua County’s seat, it doesn’t even qualify as a ghost town anymore.
Enter Florida’s new city killer
Which brings me to Amendment 3.
Turns out that if you let people vote to cut their taxes, they will. And passage of Amendment 3, which vastly increases the homestead property tax exemption, is going to create a lot of economic pain for Florida counties, cities and towns.
How to implement it, what tax options local governments will have to replace lost revenue and so on will be the topic of much discussion up and down the peninsula in the coming months and years.
But while we’re hammering out the ugly details of post-A3 local government finance, let’s not overlook the opportunity to do some streamlining as well.
Conservatives like to say there’s too much government. And they have a point, at least at the local level.
If you think Florida has too many counties, at 66 (a subject for another blog) then how then to justify 411 municipalities?
For each Fort Lauderdale (pop 190,000) there is an Indian Creek (pop 82), a Lazy Lake (31) and, astonishingly, a Marineland (just 9 souls).
For every GNV (148,000 and change) there is a La Crosse (pop 360).
Yes, living in a town with more dolphins than people can be a source of community pride. But every one of those 411 incorporated entities comes with costs and obligations that may or may not be worth the honor of the designation.
Look no further than Alachua County.
Waldo’s charter couldn’t save the town’s police force. Hawthorne couldn’t keep its fire department. And High Springs may be next to lose both police and fire.
Even pre-A3, our smaller, under-financed towns are increasingly looking to Alachua County to provide essential services.
And, truth be told, if those municipalities didn’t exist, the county would provide for their residents as a matter of course.
Amendment 3 is going to have a dramatic impact on local life as we know it. So while lawmakers consider how to replace lost ad valorem revenues, they also ought to give a lot of thought to what it should mean to be a city or a town. And at below what population and fiscal threshold incorporation no longer make makes sense.
A sense of place does not require official documentation.
Residents of unincorporated Hastings still call it Hastings.
Heck, Florida’s most oddly named community, historic Two Egg, never even had a charter. But then, now and forever it will always be Two Egg to locals and curious visitors alike.
