sj051202

Miami Herald

Posted on Sun, May. 12, 2002

by Carl Hiaasen

The high cost of changing Panhandle's name

If the St. Joe Co. has its way, Florida's historic Panhandle soon will be known as Florida's ``Great Northwest.'' That's because the P.R. hacks at St. Joe have decided that the word Panhandle is too negative and conjures images of a deadbeat looking for a handout.

Marketing is the ostensible reason that St. Joe is worrying itself with such inanities. The company wants to lure thousands of baby boomers to North Florida, where it is planning no less than 20 major projects.

Once a timber and railroad titan, St. Joe bought Arvida and launched big-time into real-estate development. With almost a million acres, including 39 miles of coast, St. Joe is Florida's largest landholder. Its ambition is to populate the quiet Panhandle with smitten vacationers-turned-home buyers.

To that end, St. Joe in 1997 hired as its CEO a man named Peter Rummell, who once headed the real-estate arm of Disney. Rummell worked on Celebration, the high-end subdivision hyped as a ''planned community.'' He also led Disney's ill-conceived (and doomed) effort to put a theme park, golf course and office mega-center near the Manassas National Battlefield in Virginia.

''Will [the Panhandle] change? Yes,'' Rummell told The Herald last December. ``But our goal is to celebrate what's great about the region without ruining it.'' Right, just look at Orlando. Petey Boy, we've seen the future and its name is International Drive.

If the good folks of Bay, Walton, Franklin and Gulf counties think that St. Joe has only their best interests at heart, they are sadly deluded.

Example: Near Port St. Joe, where the firm once operated a paper mill, the new St. Joe Co. is hatching a yuppie destination called WindMark. Plans call for 1,000 homes, hotels and a shopping center. The only problem is U.S. 98, which runs for almost four scenic miles along the Gulf of Mexico.

WindMark cannot become a reality, St. Joe declared, unless U.S. 98 is moved inland and a new connecting expressway is built. Relocating the old road would give St. Joe a terrific new stretch of waterfront worth untold millions. When people complained that the company was trying to hijack the public beach, St. Joe offered to provide two access paths through WindMark to the water.

The Gulf County Commission rolled over like a fat hound and said sure, let's move the road. Irate residents never got to vote on the matter. Soon, 3.7 miles of U.S. Highway 98 will be detoured away from the beach. The clincher: Taxpayers are being soaked for at least half the cost.

But that's nothing compared to the Bay County airport boondoggle. The present Panama City terminal is only seven years old and not exactly bursting at the seams. St. Joe wants a huge new one, which it says is crucial to uncorking development on 70,000 prime acres the company owns in that area. So it has donated land for a new facility that would eventually be larger than Tampa International.

And who would pay for St. Joe's airport? You guessed it: About 80 percent of the $200 million-plus construction cost would come from state and federal funds -- your pocket and mine. The Bush brothers, George W. and Jeb, love this idea. So does the Florida Legislature, which is always keen to help out struggling multibillion-dollar corporations.

So far, the state has committed about $10 million for planning the new Bay County airport. President Bush himself deemed it a ''high priority,'' and the feds quickly kicked in $2 million to get the ball rolling.

If St. Joe pulls this off, even its critics would have to marvel. What a feat for a private company to get a big-city airport built purely to advance its own agenda. Of course, it helps that William Harrison, the attorney overseeing St. Joe's Bay County projects, was co-chairman of the Bush presidential campaign in the Panhandle. Nor does it hurt that St. Joe has acquired a 33 percent interest in the Codina Group, the Miami real estate firm where Jeb Bush partnered before becoming governor. And let's not forget the $20,000 that Peter Rummell and his wife gave to the Republican National Committee during the 2000 presidential race. Or the cozy GOP fundraiser that St. Joe hosted last month in Jacksonville -- Jeb was there, of course.

No, the folks in those strapped rural counties of Florida's ''great northwest'' don't stand much of a chance in deciding their own future. That's bad enough. What's worse is how St. Joe is relying on every other Floridian to subsidize and enrich its real-estate juggernaut with new beachfront, new highways, a new airport.

It's the ultimate corporate panhandle in a place that could not be more aptly named. Naturally, St. Joe wants to call it something else



	Miami Herald Posted on Sun, May. 12, 2002 by Carl Hiaasen The high cost of changing Panhandle's name If the St. Joe Co. has its way, Florida's historic Panhandle soon will be known as Florida's ``Great Northwest.'' That's because the P.R. hacks at St. Joe have decided that the word Panhandle is too negative and conjures images of a deadbeat looking for a handout. Marketing is the ostensible reason that St. Joe is worrying itself with such inanities. The company wants to lure thousands of baby boomers to North Florida, where it is planning no less than 20 major projects. Once a timber and railroad titan, St. Joe bought Arvida and launched big-time into real-estate development. With almost a million acres, including 39 miles of coast, St. Joe is Florida's largest landholder. Its ambition is to populate the quiet Panhandle with smitten vacationers-turned-home buyers. To that end, St. Joe in 1997 hired as its CEO a man named Peter Rummell, who once headed the real-estate arm of Disney. Rummell worked on Celebration, the high-end subdivision hyped as a ''planned community.'' He also led Disney's ill-conceived (and doomed) effort to put a theme park, golf course and office mega-center near the Manassas National Battlefield in Virginia. ''Will [the Panhandle] change? Yes,'' Rummell told The Herald last December. ``But our goal is to celebrate what's great about the region without ruining it.'' Right, just look at Orlando. Petey Boy, we've seen the future and its name is International Drive. If the good folks of Bay, Walton, Franklin and Gulf counties think that St. Joe has only their best interests at heart, they are sadly deluded. Example: Near Port St. Joe, where the firm once operated a paper mill, the new St. Joe Co. is hatching a yuppie destination called WindMark. Plans call for 1,000 homes, hotels and a shopping center. The only problem is U.S. 98, which runs for almost four scenic miles along the Gulf of Mexico. WindMark cannot become a reality, St. Joe declared, unless U.S. 98 is moved inland and a new connecting expressway is built. Relocating the old road would give St. Joe a terrific new stretch of waterfront worth untold millions. When people complained that the company was trying to hijack the public beach, St. Joe offered to provide two access paths through WindMark to the water. The Gulf County Commission rolled over like a fat hound and said sure, let's move the road. Irate residents never got to vote on the matter. Soon, 3.7 miles of U.S. Highway 98 will be detoured away from the beach. The clincher: Taxpayers are being soaked for at least half the cost. But that's nothing compared to the Bay County airport boondoggle. The present Panama City terminal is only seven years old and not exactly bursting at the seams. St. Joe wants a huge new one, which it says is crucial to uncorking development on 70,000 prime acres the company owns in that area. So it has donated land for a new facility that would eventually be larger than Tampa International. And who would pay for St. Joe's airport? You guessed it: About 80 percent of the $200 million-plus construction cost would come from state and federal funds -- your pocket and mine. The Bush brothers, George W. and Jeb, love this idea. So does the Florida Legislature, which is always keen to help out struggling multibillion-dollar corporations. So far, the state has committed about $10 million for planning the new Bay County airport. President Bush himself deemed it a ''high priority,'' and the feds quickly kicked in $2 million to get the ball rolling. If St. Joe pulls this off, even its critics would have to marvel. What a feat for a private company to get a big-city airport built purely to advance its own agenda. Of course, it helps that William Harrison, the attorney overseeing St. Joe's Bay County projects, was co-chairman of the Bush presidential campaign in the Panhandle. Nor does it hurt that St. Joe has acquired a 33 percent interest in the Codina Group, the Miami real estate firm where Jeb Bush partnered before becoming governor. And let's not forget the $20,000 that Peter Rummell and his wife gave to the Republican National Committee during the 2000 presidential race. Or the cozy GOP fundraiser that St. Joe hosted last month in Jacksonville -- Jeb was there, of course. No, the folks in those strapped rural counties of Florida's ''great northwest'' don't stand much of a chance in deciding their own future. That's bad enough. What's worse is how St. Joe is relying on every other Floridian to subsidize and enrich its real-estate juggernaut with new beachfront, new highways, a new airport. It's the ultimate corporate panhandle in a place that could not be more aptly named. Naturally, St. Joe wants to call it something else