No Comment

The next time some government agency asks for citizen comments on a proposed public-works project, think twice before you offer your two cents: You may just get your ass sued.

That’s what has happened in Jefferson County, where two agencies have joined with a group of landowners to sue three people who had the nerve to offer an opinion on a proposed drainage project. They offered that opinion during the officially designated time period for public comments, but that doesn’t seem to matter.

Since the plaintiffs are represented by bombastic Beaumont attorney (and East Texas power broker) Walter Umphrey, and the defendants by environmental crusader Jim Blackburn, the rhetoric in the fight is nicely explosive.

“The plaintiffs, and Jefferson County taxpayers — and much of their construction equipment — are held hostage by two landowners — out of thousands — who paid lawyers and experts to misrepresent the project and its effect through frivolous and sham objections haphazardly lobbed at any agency they could find,” Umphrey’s suit states. (Construction equipment held hostage!! Objections lobbed haphazardly!! Film at 11!)

“It’s one of the scarier lawsuits since commenting is part of the environmental law process,” Blackburn says. “You have a right to tell the government what you think.” (A scary lawsuit!! Ummm, probably no film at 11.)

The proposed project involves flood relief along the Gulf Intracoastal Waterway; Umphrey and his clients, which include two drainage districts, say they’ve spent ten years and $8 million seeking approval to begin construction. They say Blackburn’s clients, which include two brothers who own a single piece of land, and their neighbor, waited until the last minute to use “junk science” in filing an objection.

“Defendants have paid and hired their own lawyers and ‘experts’ to — at the last minute — derail over a decade of work,” Umphrey’s lawsuit says.

Since Umphrey is a specialist in class-action suits on such things as asbestos, tobacco and Vioxx, we can only guess corporate-defense attorneys might choke on his objecting to someone who has “hired their own lawyers and ‘experts.'” (Umphrey didn’t return phone calls.)

Naturally, Blackburn says his experts are more right about the potential effects of the project than those experts hired by the drainage district. But disputes over scientific studies are par for the course in these kinds of fights. What’s different is being taken to court for getting into the fight.

“To be sued over what you say in the commenting process has a killing effect on the process of commenting,” he says.

A “killing effect”? Sounds like something he could get sued over.

Next Stop, Customer Service

Ani Caloustian is a 24-year-old executive assistant who’s a regular Metro user. And she’s not a happy customer.

She daily takes the 78 bus from downtown to Greenway Plaza to get to her husband’s office. From there the couple drives to pick up their son from daycare.

The problem is, she says, that some of the bus drivers on the route don’t wait until the end of the line (near her stop) to take their half-hour break. Instead they stop at a convenience store two blocks prior, telling her to wait.

And they’re not always nice about it, she says: “What are you doing? This is not where you are supposed to stop,” she says she told one female driver. Caloustian says the driver replied, “You are fucking crazy,” which we’re guessing is not part of the Metro manual.

Her adventures didn’t stop there. She called Metro (and, admittedly, hung up in frustration at one point), only to be told eventually the route was operated by First Transit (First Transit is the secretive, sometimes inept company that runs some Metro routes. See “Run Over By Metro,” March 30, 2006).

We talked to First Transit general manager Dave Von Fossen. He said the convenience store is “about two blocks from the end of the route. There’s no restroom at the end. What Metro does is they put on the schedule these designated restroom stops because obviously the drivers have to use the restroom from time to time.”

Hair Balls: But [Caloustian] says they stop for cigarette breaks and snack breaks.

Von Fossen: Yeah.

HB: Why don’t they just wait to take their breaks until after the route?

Von Fossen: Well, we would encourage that except sometimes at the end of the route it’s not always convenient or real close by for them to do that.

HB: You say it’s not convenient for the drivers; what about the passengers?

Von Fossen: I agree with her on that, yes.

Metro spokeswoman Raequel Roberts, on the other hand, sees no problem with holding passengers up for a half hour or so.

“I’m not clear why this is a story,” she says. “Breaks are built into the routes…On the scale of newsworthiness, as a former newspaper editor, I’m not sure why this rates.”

Yeah, maybe Caloustian should just walk the two blocks and stop bitching. But then again, we’d like to see how patient Metro executives would be if they were forced to wait in a bus for a half hour while the driver sat outside with a cig.

Of course, that would mean they’d have to take the bus every so often.

Don’t Speak Ill of the Retiring

That was one sloppy wet kiss of a good-bye the Houston Chronicle gave outgoing State Sen. Jon Lindsay in its December 30 edition.

Headlined “A Fond Reflection On A Life Of Public Service,” reporter Kristen Mack piled on the glowing quotes about the former county judge.

The 51 paragraphs included exactly three on Lindsay’s tenuous relationship with ethics and rules. “[H]is county tenure ended in the mid-1990s amid corruption allegations,” Mack wrote. She noted Lindsay was indicted on two misdemeanor charges that were eventually thrown out, then resumed the lovefest.

Hey — that’s not the Jon Lindsay we remember.

We remember the Jon Lindsay who was chased out of the county judge’s office amidst allegations of getting a $100,000 cash bribe to build a county road on some remote property. Sure, the statute of limitations ran out before the case — or the suit to force Lindsay to resign because of it — could be heard, but Jon could always afford the best lawyers.

We remember the Jon Lindsay who then got his cronies at the Port of Houston to hire him for $120,000 a year as a consultant.

We remember the Lindsay who once said of his controversies and allegations, “Ninety percent of that stuff was totally false. Five percent of it, I did show poor judgment.” (The other five percent he left nicely uncategorized.)

That’s the Jon Lindsay we like to remember. But that’s not the one who showed up in the Chron.

“That story had the thickness of Saran Wrap,” said an anonymity-preferring lawyer who was deeply involved in the 1990s hoopla. “I was disappointed it had the 1984 quality of simply just refusing to remember what happened.”

Come on, now: We wouldn’t want any unpleasantness during the holiday season.

Tales from the BBB

There are a million sad stories in the files of the Houston chapter of the Better Business Bureau. Well, maybe not a million, but there are quite a few. And here is one of them: Promark Research Corporation on FM 1960, a company that makes unwanted cold telephone calls but says it is not a telemarketer, dammit. Click
Here for the details.