In my own defense

Understanding where we stand now, as historians attest, necessarily demands that we understand the path taken to our present spot. This is as true for our personal situations as it is for companies or nations. Knowing how we arrived where we are is our only hope for illuminating the path ahead.

We don’t arrive at the same place in the same fashion. Sometimes we simply don’t arrive at the same place, regardless how we travel. We can understand where each of us stands only by remembering our own journeys and trying to place ourselves, as it were, in our neighbor’s house.

With the notable exception of a brief time spent living in a small town and attending a small college, I have chosen to spend my life in urban neighborhoods. I belong in an urban setting, and I am committed, as my friend Margie would say, to trying to leave my own small corner of the world a little better than I found it.

When I first arrived in the JCNA 10 years ago, I committed myself to a home, to a business and to a community. I believed I could help run a successful business that would provide a living for us while also being a point of pride for the neighborhood. But there were issues. The house next door to us was filled with college boys and owned by a notorious midtown slumlord. We did battle over the state of that property, including trash removal and tree trimming. We watched as two other owners attempted to improve the property, one while running a meth lab from it and the other without the financial wherewithal needed to renovate a house that’s been condemned. But the house today has owners doing the necessary work and making a commitment to improving both the property and the neighborhood.

When I arrived, the house catty corner to ours had just been purchased, with the plan to convert it back to a single-family dwelling from the apartment house it had been for decades. Santa Monica was in place and was a stable property in the neighborhood. There was another apartment house, which is now being completely remodeled, and The Designers was operating from the house on the corner of 39th & Dodge, which today has just been converted back to a single-family residence.

And then there was the Travel Inn. If you lived close by while the Travel Inn was operating, you need no reminder of what problems it caused. If you didn’t live here then, words alone can scarcely convey the complete picture of how one property can bring down a whole neighborhood. The motel housed criminals fleeing from felony warrants. There were prostitutes and drug dealers running their businesses from the motel and overflowing into the neighborhood. There was a pit bull breeding operation. The police helicopter flew overhead every night at 11 -- and you could literally set your watch by it. No one wandered up and down the block after dark, and we were cautious even during the daylight hours.

Of course, there was also the Joslyn Castle, one of the most remarkable properties in the city and the state. The Castle in those days was always booked on the weekends for weddings and event. You could count on there being an event every Friday, every Saturday, many Sundays and frequently during the week. The Castle’s manager made sure the parties ended at a reasonable time, that the noise did not go on into the wee hours, and that security officers provided an added measure of protection. Those of us who live close by put up with the parking problems and occasional noise issues. We kept watch late at night when no one else was around. We volunteered to help with projects on the grounds and in the building. We raised money for improvements and renovations. We planted trees, picked up trash and kept our dogs on leashes.

We felt then, as we do now, that the Castle belongs to all of us.

And that, my friends, is my point. None of our dwellings exists in a vacuum. What happens with one property either negatively or positively affects each other property -- and by extension, the folks who inhabit that property. Throughout the JCNA neighborhood, we’ve seen remarkable progress in stabilizing the population, in renovating and updating the properties, in creating a community in which neighbors walk their dogs and friends gather to visit. Had one visited 10 years ago and returned now, one would be amazed at what’s been accomplished.

My part in these changes has been small, tiny really. I worked hard to get the Travel Inn closed, but I came late to that effort and take little credit for the final demolition. With others, I worked to keep other group houses from taking over our block and our neighborhood. That some of those properties so attractive for group housing now are single-family homes speaks to the efforts of each property owner and neighbor. Again, while I take great pride in these achievements, I deserve and take little credit for them. I’ve helped raise money for neighborhood projects, but I didn’t work alone. I’ve been an advocate for midtown Omaha, and I learned much about how to do so by watching my neighbors and friends. In each of these undertakings, we accomplished our goals as a community.

Mark and I have spent literally hundreds of thousands of dollars maintaining, updating and restoring our own property. Of course, this is in our best interest. But it also speaks to our belief that even our own home belongs to the larger community. We are fortunate to have been entrusted with its care, and we take that trust to heart.

It is as a community that we must watch over the ongoing revitalization of our neighborhood. It is as a community that we sometimes must ask hard questions and demand public accountability. JCNA and some of us who have long sat on its board sometimes get accused of being difficult to work with or hard to get along with. I look at my neighborhood, and I see an incredible example of what a diverse neighborhood can be. I believe that only a special type of person chooses to live in a neighborhood like ours, that it takes a unique individual or family to make a commitment to one of these big old houses. I believe that it is often when we disagree that we find what’s best in ourselves and in our neighbors.

I know I’ve made some people uncomfortable of late by asking hard questions about the change in ownership of Joslyn Castle. Let me be crystal clear as to why. I have no doubt that the board members and staff of the Joslyn Castle Trust will diligently pursue the ongoing restoration and protection of the Castle and its grounds. I have never doubted their intent or their integrity. But there are difficult days ahead, and there must be a public accounting as to how those days will be managed.

So I ask, on behalf of us all, how the Trust will raise money for administrative costs and overhead. I ask, on behalf of our neighbors, what the strategic plan is for the ongoing use of the building and its grounds. And I ask what might happen in the event the Trust is not able to raise the funds necessary to keep the Castle.

I ask not because I want the Trust to fail but precisely because I want -- I insist that it succeed. The Castle, too, is not an island. What happens at the Castle affects each of us. Each of us owns a small piece of the Castle, each of us is deeply invested in its success.

Perhaps I feel this more personally because my property is so close and my business is directly affected by what happens across the street. Perhaps I feel it more strongly because my nature doesn’t allow me to do otherwise. Perhaps each of you will agree with some part of my belief that should the Trust not be able financially or practically manage this property, we will each pay a much higher cost for that failure than those who serve on that board but do not live in our neighborhood.

I invite you to question my concerns. I encourage you to disagree with my approach. But you must know that I speak passionately about this not because I am a nay-sayer or a rabble rouser or a troublemaker. You may question my tactics but you may never doubt my commitment to my own property, to my neighbors and to my community.