If there was an element of desperation to Burge's performance, it's because, in a way, everything about the world he inherited has changed. The suburban growth on which his family built its fortune is now being challenged by a renewed focus on inner-city neighborhoods. Ironically, that new growth is being funded in the absence of a comprehensive transit plan, without which, many believe, the future growth of Houston will be limited.
Even where there are opportunities, it's a whole new ball game. Annexations must now be approved by the U.S. Department of Justice, to ensure they aren't designed simply to add more white voters to the city's electorate. Developers must deal with complex environmental and wildlife guidelines. And, finally, in 1990s Houston, politicians and insiders such as Billy Burge have to contend with the interests of blacks, Hispanics, gays, Asians and the poor. Ayrshire's venture with American General and Cullen Center Inc. for a Fourth Ward redevelopment is a prime example. Despite widespread political and business support for the project, which included the demolition of Allen Parkway Village, it was halted by minority and low-income housing advocates. And you can bet Oscar Holcombe and the Brown brothers never had to contend with affirmative action.
"I think he has an altered sense of reality from the world he's always lived in," one lifelong Houston resident says of Burge. "You can't be somebody who's dealing with selling Rockefeller Center and really understand the way other people see the world. His world is the world where Bob Lanier is his buddy-pal."
But don't put Billy Burge out to pasture just yet. There is still downtown Houston, the new frontier. It's at times like this, when Burge's personality and all that possibility converge, that one can understand how Bob Lanier might find him indispensable. He can say all the things the mayor cannot: that downtown must have a stadium; that business people have for too long been left out of the inner-city debate; that Bob Lanier has let them back in.
What's not so clear is what's in it for Billy Burge. He claims to own no property downtown -- "Got rid of it seven, eight years ago, to some Canadians," he says with a laugh -- and as much as public records will reveal, that's true. However, his longtime relationships with such prominent downtown landholders as Wayne Duddlesten and Charles Hurwitz do not preclude an interest.
And despite Ayrshire's success with high-profile mega-projects from coast to coast, Burge doesn't see his company getting in on any commercial development downtown. He thinks the company's local interest will remain residential.
"I'm just trying, with [the Oilers], the mayor's office and Central Houston, to be a catalyst to make things happen downtown," Burge says. "Lanier's posture has always been, you know, "Private sector, come to the table with what you can do and I'll see how much I can match you with my chips." He wanted it to happen, but not get out there in the lead." When it's suggested that there is a perception among many that any major downtown project -- whether it be a stadium or a casino -- will benefit a handful of developers and business people like himself, Burge says that's not the way things work here anymore. "I don't want to compromise trying to get something off [the ground] as a citizen versus making money off of it. If I can be a part of getting this [moving], I'm not looking at the development as much as I am, 'We got to save the city.'"
Lanier, he says, has "a group that he confides in, yes, but there is another layer out there. It's not just that he's my buddy, so we'll get in a room and two hours later come out with a decision. I think Lanier, more than anyone since Oscar Holcombe, has had a big open-door policy."
Downtown Houston is clearly a topic Burge has warmed to, and he offers the impression he is willing to discuss it in all its intricacies, from Bud Adams to parking to private sector credit enhancement. But he is interrupted by his administrative assistant, who enters the room and hands Burge a message.
"They're in Dave Walden's office," he says, referring to Bob Lanier's co-chief of staff.
"Was this urgent or just...." He decides it isn't. "I'll call back."
Settling back in his chair, Billy Burge explains why Bob Lanier can wait: "He's with Dave. You see, when the mayor's with Dave, it's usually not important. When the mayor calls from his office, it's important.
