Brooks Peterson

Monday, Feb. 22, 1999

Delta Force vs. old courthouse: It's no contest

   This is it, gentle readers. I'm throwing in my hand. I've laid around, stayed around this ol' issue too long. It's over.
   Much as it pains me, I've decided to bail out. I leave it up to you. No more pontificating from me. No more visionary schemes. From now on, you're on your own. You decide what to do about the old Nueces County Courthouse.
   I mean, when the elite of the U.S. military, the special ops guys of Delta Force (or whatever outfit it is that's been swooping around South Texas, terrorizing country dwellers and small nocturnal mammals) can't take out our Incredible Hulk, what's left?
   Given their formidable reputation, not to mention the fact that they left the old Kingsville police building a smoldering ruin, you would have expected these fellows to have no trouble reducing the 1914-vintage courthouse to rubble last week. I mean, they had the expertise, the tools, the explosives and, undeniably, the reputation. The black helicopters were there to whisk them away from preservationist retaliation.
   All that was lacking was the will. What a waste.
   Look: As I've said so many times, it's not that I necessarily want to see the scabby old relic reduced to rubble. Far from it. Though I have never subscribed to the notion that the old courthouse is an architectural gem, it's no worse than similar structures in other Texas county seats, and if it could be tidied up and rendered presentable, why, I would be out there clicking my heels with the best of them.
   However, since the building has been vacant since 1977 - that's 22 years, in case your calculator's battery is down - it's fair to conclude that the likelihood of any such happy outcome is . . . dim.
   Any number of groups and individuals have had a go at it, from the oh so plausible Charles Bennett III, who could spin out glittering visions like nobody's business but came up a little short in the results department, to the resourceful, generous and endlessly patient Dusty Durrill. Back in June 1994 there was a little flare-up of excitement as the notion of using the old courthouse as a downtown campus for Texas A&M-Corpus Christi generated a couple of headlines.
   However, this scenario, along with the one about the mysterious Swedish billionaire incorporating the courthouse into a hotel/resort complex, ran smack into the one great stumbling block in the way of Doing Something About The Old Courthouse:
   Reality.
   See, the thing is, happy thoughts and pixie dust just won't suffice to get this job done. Notwithstanding the fact that as recently as last fall an expert from San Antonio found the old pile to be essentially sound, the effects of more than two decades' worth of neglect, vandalism, weather damage and just plain old rot have done colossal damage. Estimates on what it would take to render the building usable run from $12 million to $20 million.
   Tax hike, anyone? Bond issue?
   That's what I thought.
   Some of us have taken a run at the issue. Memorably, once (and future?) Councilman Jack Best proposed inviting an action-movie crew to use the courthouse as the site for a spectacular explosion: urban renewal via special effects, as it were.
   (Incidentally, I hope the Delta Force guys had the common courtesy to invite Best to the big show Wednesday evening.)
   In all modesty (and I have lots to be modest about), I'd point out that I've offered a couple of schemes of my own: (1.) Cultivate kudzu to grow around and over the structure, turning it into a picturesque ruin; (2.) Trundle the whole shootin' match out to the Northwest to anchor the much-anticipated, never-realized outlet mall there.
   But no: When Delta Force can do no more than inflict a few nicks on the old courthouse, I think it's time for the rest of us to admit defeat.
   Unless . . . perhaps a low-yield "clean" nuclear device?
   No. No. To paraphrase Clint Eastwood's memorable line from "Magnum Force": A city's gotta know its limitations. We, I fear, have bumped up against ours. We may one day turn our tap water from yellow to crystal-clear; we may lay sidewalks so aesthetically pleasing as to delight even the residents of Del Mar; we may find an alternative to the head-in parking that has turned downtown Corpus Christi into a fairly convincing replica of Greater Muleshoe . . . but Do Something About The Old Courthouse? Get outta town.
   ?
   (Peterson can be reached at 886-3772 or by e-mail at petersonb@caller.com.)