EDITORIAL

        Opinion

We feel duped. How about you?

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SPRING 1974: Florida declares that the Green Swamp in Lake and Polk counties won't be paved over for the next get-rich-quick scheme. Hallelujah! In putting this swamp in the same category as the Everglades, legislators must have recognized even then that this was exactly what was needed to preserve it. Central Florida's Everglades, if you will. Not only does it intersect five major river systems, this 560,000-acre swamp between Orlando and Tampa teems with rare plants and animals. The scrub jay, the wood stork, the black bear. Even the elusive Florida panther roams its forests. Name an endangered species in Florida, and you can bet you'll find it here. Quite a stand for a state that usually bends over backward to accommodate every fast-buck artist who shows up at the state line. Must be real precious land.

SUMMER 2005: Wait a minute. What's this we hear about the Lake County city of Groveland fighting to allow a megadevelopment in this very swamp? The developer even has the nerve to call itself Banyan, the name of a popular Florida tree. The developers will plop down as many as 532 homes in a part of the Swamp that was slated for 57 homes. Do the math: It means that developers stand to make almost 10 times more than if the 361 acres remained rural. Didn't 72 percent of Groveland just vote to ban so many homes in the swamp? Why, yes, but Groveland commissioners will have none of that. They actually went to court to get around their own voters and gain the right to help kill the Green Swamp. So much for the Legislature's 1974 vision.

And you wonder why we feel duped. Bet it's nothing compared to how 72 percent of the Groveland voters feel. And this commission is supposed to be looking out for them? Come again? Our only comforting thought is that this is an isolated incident for Central Florida.

Or is it?

NOVEMBER 2004: Seminole County voters approve a referendum that says the County Commission has the right to protect areas such as the Black Hammock, an oasis for endangered critters and plants just on the edge of Winter Springs and Oviedo. The voters know full well that Seminole has precious little land left to protect. And they don't want politicians to destroy the very things that drew them to Florida in the first place. Well, that's a nice thought, but not good enough for Winter Springs. It apparently reads the same playbook as Groveland and sets the stage for a scheme to put at least nine times as many homes in that area as now allowed. By this time, we're getting pretty good at developers' math. Winter Springs, too, drags a case against the Seminole vote into court. A copycat killing? Sure sounds like it. Winter Springs now is saying it won't turn Black Hammock into a subdivision. Well, pardon us if we're not celebrating just yet. The city still is bulldozing ahead with its court case to strip the County Commission of its right to preserve the Black Hammock.

Surely, this isn't going on in Orange County, is it? Hasn't Orange learned time and again that caving into big-time landowners and developers betrays the voters' trust?

Apparently not.

JAN. 10, 2006: Surprising as it is, Orange County actually comes up with a decent plan for developing so-called Innovation Way in east Orange County. The idea is to create an area where high-tech jobs can exist alongside homes. Work, live and play all in the same area. Terrific. But what are all those Gucci loafers doing in the commission chambers the day Innovation Way is coming up for an initial vote? Please, tell us it isn't true that this snarl of lobbyists is going to use Innovation Way to promote the next big scheme. Some innovation. Can't anything just be left alone? Well, we might want that, and so might the voters. But four county commissioners -- Bill Segal, Homer Hartage, Mildred Fernandez and Bob Sindler -- disagreed. They turned to the lobbyists and, in effect, said, "Let's see if we can maul another 10,000 acres of wilderness." Who cares that this land has nothing to do with Innovation Way except that it's next door? It's a great excuse for a huge, new subdivision. Isn't that the only thing that really matters in Central Florida?

So why would these commissioners do this? It's just a first step, they said, nothing to get all huffy about. They just wanted to see what state regulators think. Well, yeah, we do feel a bit huffy. Why do they want to hear what the state has to say about a project their own county planners didn't even support? Could they be fishing for a few kind words? Words that could give them an excuse to approve this project when it comes up for another vote in May? Surely not, we think. Hasn't Orange gotten better about these things? But then we realize that we can't remember any project that has gotten this far only to be rejected. By the way, Commissioner Segal says he has had a change of heart, and he's not for the project after all. Pardon us if we're not cheering this either. His vote allowed this scheme to take off.

Something else: This land sits next to the Econlockhatchee River, the one that 15 years ago the Orange commission vowed to protect.

So has nothing changed? Will Florida remain forever the butt of the jokes, the place where elected officials treat developers as royalty rather than people to regulate? Unfortunately, in too many cases, yes. In the next four days, we will explore why Florida remains such a mess of traffic jams and crowded schools. We will show you a state law passed 20 years ago that was supposed to fix things, only to be doomed in its first few years. We also will tell you more about the new villains -- the cities such as Groveland and Winter Springs, whose panting for growth is upending any responsible thoughts that voters harbored. We will tell you about the Kissimmee River. Taxpayers are spending $578 million to restore it to its roots, only to have Osceola County poised to OK megadevelopment after megadevelopment that could help destroy the waterway and endanger the eagles that nest there.

But all is not for naught. There still is time to do things right, even in the fiascoes detailed above. Only, though, if our elected officials grow some backbone.

MONDAY: How your elected officials have left you stuck in traffic.