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Out of Control

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"The only obligation the city really had in this process is to make sure on paper the balance works out," Culp says. "And we've done that."

Tatro isn't so sure. He says the numbers, which supposedly reflect how much fill each developer brought in and how much came off the ball field as detention, don't add up. And even if they did, the councilman wonders why the math wasn't done before Gross received his building permit almost 18 months ago.

"What really ticks me off is a plan was submitted, and there was no data to show the developer was going to excavate what he said he would," Tatro says. "This is all being done in hindsight."

The only way to verify the validity of what's on paper is to examine the relevant site plans, grading layouts and topographical surveys. Because of their technical nature, the Press lined up a professional engineer willing to examine the documents to determine how much fill had been placed on the development sites and whether something close to an equal amount of storm-water detention had been excavated from the ball field.

But while Culp expressed no qualms about providing copies of that information in his first interview with the Press, he declined on December 10, claiming the city legal department had declared certain building plans "copyrighted material" and therefore not subject to disclosure under the Texas Open Records Act. Culp agreed to allow a reporter to look over the site plans and grading layouts in Loomis's office -- access, he says, the city's attorneys had warned him not to provide.

"They didn't even want to give [the plans] to us," Culp says.

To the untrained eye, the plans were, to say the least, inconclusive. Even more puzzling were two attorney general opinions, dated 1981 and 1987. While both opinions discourage the city from furnishing copies of material protected by copyright -- assuming, of course, that building plans are copyright-protected in the first place -- they both clearly permit members of the public to make their own copies, "unassisted" by the government agency. The city did not immediately respond to a second request by the Press to make "unassisted" copies of the documents.

It's difficult to see how the public health and safety are secured by a policy that is so lacking in accountability that it extends on behalf of developers legal protections that may not exist. Then again, the city's storm-water detention policy, like the flood control district's, is apparently based on the assumption that tropical storms and other "flood events" won't occur until all the necessary detention is in place.

In September 2000, for instance, Loomis approved a mitigation plan for Gross's second development site, across East T.C. Jester. The plan identified land just west of his nearly completed apartment site for storm-water detention. But earlier this year Gross sold that land to Lovett Homes, which is planning a 77-home subdivision called Stanley Park. The developer hasn't submitted a new mitigation plan, nor does the city require one at this point. Culp says he is hesitant to require developers to excavate for storm-water detention prior to filling in the floodplain, or even before construction is completed.

"That gets into dangerous things for the city to do," Culp says. "It adds a whole bunch of liability to the city if you say, 'You have to do things in a certain way,' and traditionally the city hasn't said you have to construct things in a specific order."

Given such attitudes, which fail to acknowledge the threat it poses to existing neighborhoods, it's surprising that the city's floodplain management plan was considered strong enough to lower local flood insurance rates by 10 percent. Before FEMA gave its stamp of approval, Kevin Shanley, the urban planner from Clark Pines, contributed a lengthy critique of Loomis's plan, noting several things the city claimed to be doing but hadn't actually got around to implementing.

For example, the city has yet to begin including floodplain information with residents' water bills, an "annual outreach project" for which the auditors awarded high marks. Nor has the city initiated a "flood-threat recognition system" to warn residents that high water is expected. A program to notify homeowners that they live in flood-prone areas is also still in the planning stages.

The city's floodplain management plan and the storm-water detention policy create a false sense of security, Shanley says, and contribute to the illusion that public officials are protecting residents from flooding. To the contrary, he says, the city appears committed to doing the "absolute minimum" that federal law and the local ordinance allow. "That's the killer," Shanley says. "That's what's wrong, and that's what has to be changed."

Some changes are already afoot. Three weeks ago, in his second interview with the Press, Culp said the city would amend its policy and require developers to excavate storm-water detention before construction begins. During that same interview, attended by public information director Gary Norman, Culp was asked if, as a hydrologist, he thought the city should go further and limit development in the floodplain. Culp paused for a moment before replying.

"As an engineer who works for the City of Houston," he said, choosing his words carefully, "I have to support the ordinances that are developed by our elected officials. But do I think you should develop in the floodplain?"

Before he could finish his answer, Norman interrupted. "I would rather you not answer that," he said. "I would rather you just stick to what's factual, if you could, and stay out of the opinion side of it."

"All right," Culp said with a shrug. "That's why you're here."

Within a few days of Tropical Storm Allison, the Harris County Flood Control District issued a report that called the storm "extraordinary." The district concluded that "severe and record-breaking flooding was inevitable for over 15 major bayous in the center two-thirds of Harris County."

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