Our City Parks and Recreation Commission was established by Ordinance 1119, May 12, 1981, because the owner of a major attraction and a local banker wanted the city to build a parking lot in Water Street Hollow, the first entrance into town, which had not, and still has not, been developed.

  A creek runs through it and about every form of wildlife, except for Chelsea's, hangs out there; Cave Spring and Laundry Spring Reservations intersect it at the southern end and, along with Little Eureka Spring, Saucer Spring, and others, help to provide its water. A rustic trail follows the western bank, where stagecoaches in the early 1880s carried tourists to town.

Don't pave paradise

  Why put an asphalt parking lot in a pristine and historic hollow? The Water Street argument began in the late 1970s and ended in the early 1980s. It was the white shirts, those who wanted to be Branson, versus the "hippies," who believed it was the town and its environment that was the biggest attraction, an attraction that could not be duplicated.

  A "you folks" attitude developed on both sides that's best described by Bob Dylan: "Clowns to the left of me! Jokers to the right! Here I am stuck in the middle with you [folks]."

  The first volley of the argument came in June 20, 1980, when the City Council approved Water Street, (a 30-foot-wide, unopened street) as Water Street Park, "to be used and enjoyed by the public as a public recreational park."

  The second volley followed, which secured a $2,500 matching federal grant for recreation and preservation of the land as a wildlife habitat, which would mostly thwart any attempt by the city to reclaim the park for parking.

'Absolute authority'

  The third volley was establishing a Parks and Recreation Commission, which, by state law, separated the city government from the new commission, resulting in the commission having absolute authority over its inventory (all former city parks, footpaths, etc. and Lake Leatherwood). It also gave the commission absolute authority over its finances.

  The only oversight allowed to the city was ownership of the land, the real estate, and the appointment and the removal, for cause, of commissioners.

  The implicit message of the state law's enabling act was, and still is, to keep ever-changing politics out of our right to the pursuit of happiness. Sounds bullet-proof, right?

  The fourth volley: loopholes. The very next City Council, using its ownership power of parks property, declined to accept the federal grant. This was followed by their refusal to fund the Parks and Recreation Commission, period.

  The fifth volley was a lawsuit by residents to require the city to fund the commission. The residents lost the suit but the commission, figuratively, the next day was allotted $5,000 per year for expenses.

Council coup thwarted

  The sixth volley came in 1997 with an attempt by the City Council to make the commission a city department, which would nullify the state law's intent to keep Parks and Recreation separate and therefore non-political.

  The attempt failed because most residents were beginning to understand that the separation of the commission from the tender mercies of city government is in the residents' best interest. That understanding was evident in an overwhelming yes-vote to approve a 1/4 percent sales tax for funding Parks and Recreation.

The harvest

  Today we are reaping the harvest of a 28-year learning curve: Parks and Recreation is for all of us, and by arguing and compromising, "we-stuck-in-the-middle folks" have, literally and jointly, created a beautiful town with a 1,600-acre kids and adults playground (Lake Leatherwood: baseball and soccer fields, exercise track, 15 miles of hiking and biking trails, fishing, boating, swimming, volleyball, playground, camping, picnic shelter, cottages, and bird-watching blind), as well as more than 18 city parks, most of which offer a quiet garden spot for lunch or just a place to sit and watch the world go by. Some parks, like Basin Spring and Harmon have dedicated purposes.

  What had dwindled to mud holes in the 1970s are now, thanks to Parks and Recreation and a cooperative community, beautiful landscapes that also provide free services like concerts, skateboarding, picnic pavilions, children's playgrounds, hiking trails and weddings.

Bill Earngey