Negative Pluralism and The Politics of Light Rail Transit in Phoenix

Negative Pluralism and the Politics of Light Rail Transit in Phoenix
By
Wylie Timmerman
Final Copy Submitted April 23, 2010
Contents
2-4 Chapter 1
Introduction
5-22 Chapter 2
Literature Review
23-31 Chapter 3
Historical Background
32-34 Chapter 4
Light Rail Financing and Planning
35-45 Chapter 5
The 1997 Transit Tax Election
46-60 Chapter 6
61-76 Chapter 7
The Planning and Design Phase
77-89 Chapter 8
The Fight for Federal Funding
90-98 Chapter 9
Reconsidering Negative Pluralism
TIMMERMAN INTRODUCTION 2
Chapter 1
Introduction
On December 27th, 2008, Phoenix’s light rail system was opened to the public along
20 miles of tracks through the cities of Phoenix, Tempe, and Mesa. At stations, cities hosted
events with bands and other festivities to inaugurate the start of passenger service.
Passengers were seemingly breathless about the new system; after all, it had taken years of
construction to complete and, where previous transit proposals had failed, it had earned
the public’s approval for the increased sales taxes that helped fund. Moreover, Phoenix’s
light rail was in many ways an anomaly nationwide. For the last several decades,
approximately three-quarters of ballot initiatives to finance transit or rail projects through
tax increases have failed.1 While there are currently over thirty light rail systems in place
around the United States, the Phoenix Metropolitan Area would appear to be an unlikely
candidate with its conservative political environment and low population densities that do
not support mass transit well.2
This thesis, on one level, attempts to explain how the METRO light rail system came
to be built in the City of Phoenix proper.3 On another level, it examines what the political
struggles over Phoenix’s system say about political power exercised on major
infrastructure investments more broadly. In large part, the latter is done by evaluating the
Phoenix project against a framework of political power in urban infrastructure investments
1 Alan A. Altshuler and David E. Luberoff, Mega-Projects: The Changing Politics of Urban Public Investment (Washington,
D.C.: The Brookings Institution, 2003). P. 283
2 Ibid. P. 284
3 In the foregoing chapters, “City” will refer to the city government of Phoenix, unless used in the context of another city
under discussion.
called “negative pluralism” proposed by Alan A. Altshuler and David E. Luberoff in their
book Mega-projects: The Changing Politics of Urban Investment (2003). Altshuler and
Luberoff’s work is significant in that it collectively addresses major infrastructure projects
such as urban rail, airports, freeways, and even convention centers and stadiums as “mega-
projects,” which are constructed under unique political circumstances and may not have
been properly understood in previous political science research. In short, unlike other
development policies pursued at the local level, mega-projects require “special
authorization, funding, revenue, land acquisition, and regulatory actions by two or more
levels of government.4” Thus, in contrast to other policies with development objectives,
urban rail: can be politically controversial as an unconventional project; is subject to
regulatory obstacles stricter than those that apply, say, to expanding an arterial road
network; imposes specific costs on local landowners more so than other tax-based
development incentives; and lastly, grants specific benefits to stakeholders.5 Their
examination of several types of projects over a period of several decades strengthens their
claims about the politics of these mega-projects dramatically.
“Negative pluralism,” the authors’ tentative proposal about political power relating
to these mega-projects, will be considered in detail in the literature review in the next
chapter along with a more detailed portrait of the analysis to follow. The second chapter
examines the historical context of infrastructure projects and urban politics in Phoenix in a
mode used in Mega-projects. This sets the stage for the following chapters, where several
broadly-defined phases in the planning and funding of the METRO light rail system are
D.C.: The Brookings Institution, 2003). Pg. 267.
5 Ibid. Pp. 252-256
analyzed in light of “negative pluralism.” In short, those phases are each of two elections
referring sales tax proposals to voters in order to fund the start of the Phoenix rail project,
as well as intervening events involving the pursuit of federal funding and the planning and
design of the system. Collectively, these chapters span a period from late 1996 to early
2005, giving a relatively complete picture of the lead-up to the construction and operation
of the light rail by late 2008. In the final chapter, I reevaluate the applicability of negative
pluralism to the Phoenix case, and contemplate whether that framework could be useful in
future studies.
As Altshuler and Luberoff note in the conclusion of Mega-projects, “the acid test of
any broad theory… is its capacity to explain and link specific observations. It is in the
accumulation of efforts to use them in this fashion that their power and their deficiencies
become known.6” In that spirit, this thesis should help demonstrate whether the
conclusions reached in Mega-projects based on a survey of diverse projects nationwide
have bearing on a more detailed case study of one project.
6Alan A. Altshuler and David E. Luberoff, Mega-Projects: The Changing Politics of Urban Public Investment (Washington,
D.C.: The Brookings Institution, 2003). Pg. 268
TIMMERMAN LITERATURE REVIEW 5
Chapter 2
Literature Review
The methodology for this work is inspired by earlier analyses of transportation
politics, most notably J. Allen Whitt’s Urban Elites and Mass Transportation: The Dialectics of
Power (1982) and Alan A. Altshuler and David E. Luberoff’s Mega-Projects: The Changing
Politics of Urban Public Investment (2003). In a similar vein as Whitt’s book, this thesis
presents a few general hypotheses of negative pluralism in this literature and, in
subsequent chapters, presents the facts at hand and determines whether there is evidence
to support those hypotheses. First, however, Altshuler and Luberoff’s summary of
historical trends is used to lay the groundwork for negative pluralism, which has a strong
historical-institutional current running through it. Second, I introduce theories of local
decision-making that bear on this discussion and lay out hypotheses of “negative pluralism”
that I will test. Finally, I include an overview of research methods for this study, a
significant topic of controversy for studies evaluating theories of local decision-making.
Historical Context of Phoenix Metro Light Rail
As noted earlier, Altshuler and Luberoff, as well as other authors, characterize urban
rail as a “Mega-project.” Unlike other local development projects, mega-projects require
“special authorization, funding, revenue, land acquisition, and regulatory actions by two or
more levels of government.7” Other characteristics of urban rail projects have not been
constant, however, according to Mega-Projects. The authors identify four political eras that
plot the wax and wane of the political power to carry out mega-projects. While not by any
means empirically determined, they do help frame the changes that policies have
undergone in the last several decades. The earliest period, “The Pre-1950 Era,” consisted of
city booster-ism that often took the form of granting franchises to companies to develop
infrastructure such as railroads, telephone systems, and power.8 However, direct public
investment by cities increased as the nation urbanized and the automobile was more
widely adopted. During “The Great Mega-Project Era,” a large influx of federal funds for
transportation projects, including the interstate highway system, and for urban renewal led
to increased direct investment from local governments.9 Often, these projects would come
at the cost of neighborhoods and the environment. Altshuler and Luberoff argue, “The great
mega-project era, it seems clear, was an anomaly— a period in which many of the normal
constraints on local action in the development policy arena, and on business dominance,
were suspended.10” In “The Era of Transition,” however, the destruction of neighborhoods
across the nation led to protests and political resistance that would begin to make freeway
projects infeasible. According to Altshuler and Luberoff, much of the research on urban
decision-making and mega-projects ceased during this time period after the federal
sponsorship of urban renewal ceased in 1974; however, these kinds of projects have
certainly not stopped.11 Ultimately, Altshuler and Luberoff argue, one could describe the
most recent period as an “Era of Do No Harm,” where new federal regulations, case law,
and more common efforts at grassroots resistance have conspired to restrict the conditions
D.C.: The Brookings Institution, 2003). P. 10.
9 Ibid. Pp. 13-21.
10 Ibid. Pg. 260
11 Ibid. Pg. 46
under which mega-projects to be carried out.12 In effect, mega-projects across the United
States are now designed to limit the costs imposed on neighborhoods and the environment
in their vicinity, while remaining impacts are mitigated to preempt political resistance and
legal action. Ultimately, these constraints even affect the kinds of projects that are
attempted, with low-impact mass transit systems being preferred over destructive freeway
projects. Altshuler and Luberoff admit that these patterns may still be shifting, and, indeed,
it appears as if they may not have considered the increasing politicization of light rail as
these projects are attempted in more politically conservative Sunbelt states. 13
Theories of Political Power
While national trends affecting mega-projects have evolved, the theories that
explain political power on a local level have also changed drastically since the 1950s. These
theories sketch a picture of power over events that analyze public institutions, planning
processes, and the participation of groups in civil society. Most contemporary theories owe
their heritage to the theories of elitism and pluralism first proposed in the 1950s, and their
influence is still felt. The original elite theorists, like Floyd Hunter, believed that a relatively
small group of elites is consistently responsible for making important political decisions,
even more so than elected public officials.14 The pluralist critics of these elite theorists,
however, saw that while business elites appeared to have reputations for being powerful,
actual decision-making was the result of interest group competition, with no group
consistently dominating all outcomes. Moreover, while one group might dominate one
D.C.: The Brookings Institution, 2003). P 28, 229
13 Ibid. P. 280
14 J. Allen Whitt, Urban Elites and Mass Transportation: The Dialectics of Power (Books on Demand, 1982). P. 14
sector of public affairs—Dahl’s original study covered education policy, political
nominations, and urban renewal— the groups that control other sectors were likely to be
different; thus, power was by no means concentrated in the hands of business elites.15
The elite theorist response to their critics challenged pluralist theory based on its
assumptions and methods. For instance, while Dahl studied circumstances where interest
group behavior was observable, the elite theorists Bachrach and Baratz argue that “non-
decisions” are important exercises of power that are completely overlooked by pluralists.
As Bachrach and Baratz describe it, these “non-decisions” exist where “a person or group—
consciously or unconsciously—creates or reinforces barriers to the public airing of policy
conflicts.16” An empirical study of this phenomenon in The Un-Politics of Air Pollution noted
how the reaction of two similar industrial towns to air pollution were substantially
different because in one town a major polluter was also a major employer. Air pollution
legislation was never proposed by officials in that town because of the unspoken possibility
that the factory might shut down or shed jobs, although these were perhaps not real
possibilities.
Steven Lukes in Power: A Radical View also uses this example to show another
dimension of the power debate. He argues that even Bachrach and Baratz are too centered
on actual behavior because those authors assume that those groups and persons left out of
political debate truly know their real preferences.17 In this sense, he argues that a
hypothetical figure A can not only exercise power over B when A makes B do something
15 Bernard H. Ross and Myron A. Levine, Urban politics: power in metropolitan America, 7th Edition (Thomson Wadsworth,
2005). P. 106.
16 Steven Lukes, Power: A Radical View (London: Macmillan Publishers Ltd, 1974). Pg. 16
17 Ibid. Pp. 21-23.
against B’s will, but A can also have power over B by “influencing, shaping or determining
his very wants.18” Lukes’ theory, like the class-dialectic model in Whitt, has a Marxist bent
with its suggestion that power is exercised when false consciousness is created.
Unfortunately, while Bachrach and Baratz as well as Lukes add considerable depth
to the discussion of decision-making power, they add a significant degree of uncertainty to
their analysis, as empirical verification of their theories is more difficult than under the
pluralist model. This is because the number of theoretical alternative policy proposals that
are suppressed in “non-decisions” is seemingly unlimited.19 Moreover, it is not entirely
clear what alternatives would have truly been important to those left out of decision-
making. This is because researchers in the vast majority of cases cannot objectively
determine where the true preferences of citizens—before those thoughts have been shaped
by an exercise of power—actually lie.
For methods of analyzing urban transportation systems and a theory of power, this
study turns to the methods of J. Allen Whitt in Urban Elites and Mass Transportation: The
Dialectics of Power (1975). In this seminal work, Whitt analyses several transportation
proposals in San Francisco and Los Angeles over the period of fourteen years. While
reviewers, like Mark L. Weinberg, were disappointed by Whitt’s use of simple versions of
elite and pluralist theorist theory as theoretical straw men to be trounced by Whitt’s class-
dialectical model, his process seems fitting for this thesis.20 First, Whitt characterized the
three theories he wished to test, and generated hypotheses from each that he would test by
18 Steven Lukes, Power: A Radical View (London: Macmillan Publishers Ltd, 1974). P. 23.
19 Ibid. P. 38.
20 Mark L. Weinberg, “Review: [Untitled],” American Political Science Review (American Political Science Association) 77,
no. 2 (June 1983): 479-480.

collecting data. In his analysis, Whitt used pluralist criteria, examining decisions but with
sensitivity to lurking non-decisions. The consequence of using this standard, in his words,
was that “Should support for the pluralist model emerge, it cannot be ruled out that this is
simply an artifact of the study design. Secondly, should findings support either the elite
model or the class-dialectic model, we may have considerable confidence in the results,
since any biases in research methodology are in the pluralist direction.21”
While Whitt’s methodology is ultimately very applicable to this study, I depart from
him in his choice of political theories to analyze. With the historical context provided by
Altshuler and Luberoff, Whitt’s analysis in Urban Elites and Mass Transportation through
the 1960s and early 1970s appears to fit the historical and institutional constraints of that
time period, but not that of the Phoenix light rail system: in Mega-projects’ parlance, his
work fits within “The Great Mega-projects Era” rather than the more contemporary “Era of
Do No Harm.” Ultimately, the historical and institutional shifts that occurred as a reaction
to the heavy-handed projects of “The Great Mega-Project Era” (namely stricter
environmental regulations, legal restraints, fewer federal dollars, and pressure or
requirements to mitigate damages) have great bearing on the ways power can be exercised
in local decision-making. Thus, for this analysis, I turn to a different framework of
understanding decision-making tentatively identified by Altshuler and Luberoff.
Negative Pluralism
While Altshuler and Luberoff refrain from proposing their own theory of decision-
making in Mega-Projects: The Changing Politics of Urban Investment, they do categorize
21 J. Allen Whitt, Urban Elites and Mass Transportation: The Dialectics of Power (Books on Demand, 1982). Pg. 33.
power in mega-project decision-making more tentatively as a pattern they call “negative
pluralism.” To them, negative pluralism falls in the common ground of many theories of
power as they apply to mega-project politics. These influences include not only pluralism
and elitism, but also elements of the public choice, growth machine, and regime theories.
However, the distribution of power among these groups and the characterization “negative
pluralism” are unique to Altshuler and Luberoff in the political science discipline. While it is
only sketched out and does not link causes and effects as directly as other political theories,
it is nevertheless fitting for analyzing the general loci of power in the case of the Phoenix
light rail. Moreover, with the relatively anemic political science literature on urban
infrastructure since the 1970’s, it is perhaps the work most attuned to developments in the
field in the last several decades.
Negative pluralism is characterized by its patterns of initiative, support, and
resistance.22 Simply put, public officials most often initiate projects, and solicit the support
of a coalition of business groups to move it forward. On the other hand, neighborhood and
environmental groups that bemoan the impacts of these projects are those who tend to
resist these proposals. The relationship between the latter two groups is such that “while
business has a near-monopoly in organizing support for development proposals, the
potential to derail proposals is far more diffused. Neighborhood, environmental, ethnic,
preservationist and other interests with little or no capacity to mobilize support coalitions
can, if aroused, generally block or modify initiatives that threaten them.23” In short, there is
a concentrated power to move projects forward and a diffuse power to derail, and thus the
23 Ibid. Pg. 261.
name of “negative pluralism” for this pattern of observations. According to Altshuler and
Luberoff, this general pattern held throughout the last century of mega-project politics in
the United States, though changes in the political climate during “The Era of Do No Harm”
ultimately led to the strengthening of the pluralistic resistance groups. Below, the three
main components of negative pluralism—public entrepreneurship, business elite support,
and pluralist constraints— are considered in detail.
Public Entrepreneurship
Altshuler and Luberoff argue that public officials form an indispensible role as the
“entrepreneurs” who take the lead in mega-project development.24 Other sources, including
Sheldon Edner’s Transportation Decisionmaking in Portland, a Federal Transit
Administration report, also reflect an entrepreneurial role by public officials.25 In the
Portland study, a leader in the public sector was constant throughout the process of
planning, funding, and constructing light rail. Yet, over that years long process, no single
individual drove the process from start to finish; rather, different individuals emerged to
fill the role as the focus of the project’s advance moved between local, regional, state, and
federal jurisdictions. The persons who fit this role ranged from the head of transportation
planning for the City of Portland, to the mayor, to members of the governor’s staff, and to
members of a task force for the light rail.26 Altshuler and Luberoff have also recognized
former Massachusetts Secretary of Transportation Fred Salvucci as a public entrepreneur
D.C.: The Brookings Institution, 2003). Pp. 256-257.
25 Sheldon M. Edner, Urban Decision Making for Transportation Investments : Portland’s Light Rail Transit Line, Department
of Transportation (Washington, D.C.: Technology Sharing Program, Office of the Secretary of Transportation, 1985).
26 Ibid. Pp. 2-3.
during Boston’s Central Artery (or “Big Dig”) project.27 In general, this leadership involves
mobilizing the business community, which in turn organizes wider support in the
community as a whole. Moreover, public officials help the project acquire funding and
regulatory approval, and overcome the obstacles created by groups that resist the project.
In the cases Altshuler and Luberoff observed, public entrepreneurs need not have been the
originator of a mega-project concept, but may have redeveloped existing plans that
languished without a strong sponsor or championed ideas formed in the bureaucracy or by
consultants.28 However, as in theories with elitist elements, public officials are not
completely independent of influence. The subtext of the relationship between public
entrepreneurs and their supporters is that public leaders are in thrall to incentives, like
campaign funds and public support, provided by business groups whose backing is
essential for mega-projects to move forward. However, without the leadership of the public
sector, support by the business community for infrastructure investments is rarely
sufficient to push a mega-project concept forward.
While Altshuler and Luberoff do not specifically state that public officials serve in
this role exclusively, other sources indicate that acting as a public entrepreneur may cause
public officials to perform other roles less well or not at all. For public officials, playing the
role of entrepreneur is practically a requirement when procuring funding through either
voter approved tax hikes or federal sources. In the latter case, securing funding for mega-
projects like light rail requires local elected officials and business elites to lobby
Congresspersons for earmarks. However, according to public choice theory, unless local
28 Ibid. Pg. 224.
support for a project is clear-cut, congresspersons will abstain from pledging their support
for mega-projects in order to avoid being embroiled in a local controversy.29 As a result,
there is a disincentive for public officials to publicly critique a project, whether at an early
stage of a project when earmarks are needed for preliminary work, or at a later stage when
more federal funding is needed for construction. Thus, the need for forming consensus has
pushed public officials distinctly into the entrepreneurial role. Considering the consistent
cost overruns of mega-projects of all kinds and sizes and in countries of every continent,
Flyvberg et. al. ask “can a government act effectively both as promoter of megaprojects, and
as the guardian of public-interest issues such as protection of the environment, ensuring
safety and shielding the taxpayer against unnecessary financial risks?30” In a word, “no,”
they conclude. While Flyvberg goes on to address other issues that have bearing on mega-
project cost overruns, a lack of accountability demanded by public officials is a major one.
Thus, the role of public officials in negative pluralism appears to be distinctively that of
public entrepreneur, rather than guardian of the public interest.
Support Coalitions
Like elite theories of local decision-making, business elites also have a critical role in
negative pluralism. Business elites lack the capacity to propose or initiate specific mega-
projects, with the exception of sports stadiums, so their priorities in this area must be
achieved through the leadership of public officials. The relationship between business and
public officials is similar to regime theory, in which business structures incentives for
30 Bent Flyvberg, Nils Bruzelius and Werner Rothengatter, Megaprojects and Risk: An Anatomy of Ambition (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2003). Pg. 138

public officials, who desire to be reelected, to align themselves with growth objectives in
order to “thrive politically and create a record of accomplishment.31” In this sense,
politicians and business elites both depend on each other. Specifically, business elites are
likely to “invest” their support in “proposals that looked very good for their businesses,
were to be carried out mainly or entirely at public expense, and had a reasonable chance of
securing the myriad approvals required.32” In return for public institutions delivering these
projects, business coalitions play a role, although not exclusively, in lobbying Congress and
other public bodies for funding for the effort and building support among the public. For
public officials, the consequence of ignoring business interests is to be “pilloried in the
media, short of allies and funds, and driven from office.33”
While elite support coalitions tend to be business elites, especially in the case of
light rail, the makeup of these constituencies has not remained constant over time.34
Sacramento and Portland have been notable exceptions where environmental advocates,
rather than business groups, were in the role of the support coalition; this may be because
Portland’s light rail began as an alternative to plans for the Mt. Hood highway, and so those
who resisted the highway formed a natural constituency for light rail.35 The recent trend
towards “smart growth” development has further broadened support for alternatives to
highway construction.36
32 Ibid. pg. 224
33 Ibid. pg. 258
34 Ibid. pg. 224
35 Sheldon M. Edner, Urban Decision Making for Transportation Investments : Portland’s Light Rail Transit Line, Department
of Transportation (Washington, D.C.: Technology Sharing Program, Office of the Secretary of Transportation, 1985).

Business is also no longer monolithic in its support of mega-project proposals.
Altshuler and Luberoff note that with the decline of locally headquartered companies in
global markets, the pool of local business leaders to drive efforts for urban rail projects has
shrunk.37 Moreover, corporations increasingly headquartered in suburbs are likely to have
less stake in downtown redevelopments. As a result, those companies that remain involved
in light rail projects tend to have a much more direct stake in the outcome than in previous
eras. Flyvberg notes that many support coalitions for megaprojects include engineering
and construction firms that have an interest in a project going forward, while Altshuler and
Luberoff observe that institutions that cannot relocate, like utility companies and
universities, are also more prominent players today.38 Other businesses involved in urban
rail tend to be part of what theorist Harvey Molotch calls the “land development growth
machine.39” These businesses, which have interest in land for its “exchange value” in the
marketplace, are often opposed by those local interests, such as neighborhood groups, that
derive an intangible “use value” from living in an area as it currently is. While exchange
value interests benefit from more intensive development (like light rail) that increases land
prices, use value groups quite naturally fit the conception of resistance groups in negative
pluralism.
Pluralistic Constraints
38 Bent Flyvberg, Nils Bruzelius and Werner Rothengatter, Megaprojects and Risk: An Anatomy of Ambition (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2003). Pg. 46

Alan A. Altshuler and David E. Luberoff, Mega-Projects: The Changing Politics of Urban Public Investment (Washington,
D.C.: The Brookings Institution, 2003). Pg. 222-223.
39 Ibid. Pg. 67
The heritage of the constraint groups in negative pluralism is deeply rooted in
Molotch’s growth machine theory and political pluralism. Molotch, like Altshuler and
Luberoff, contends that those opposing development projects are primarily concerned with
protecting the present condition of their property and community.40 An activist sentiment
among neighborhoods, however, is generally aroused only when communities are directly
threatened; neighborhood groups leading the charge for infrastructure development would
be unlikely because individual homeowners would benefit relatively little from the
tremendous effort needed to lobby a city council and mayor for more beneficial
development policies and transportation projects. On the other hand, the profit motive of
exchange value businesses is sufficient to support a sustained effort to advocate for such
infrastructure investment.
Negative pluralism and Dahl’s theory of pluralism, as their names suggest, both
emphasize the diversity of interests affecting decisions, but each affords these groups quite
different degrees of power. In Altshuler and Luberoff’s framework, the only pluralistically
held power is to reject harmful proposals.41 Unlike pluralism, some interest groups, like
exchange value interests, do appear to be consistently favored in the outcomes of mega-
project decisions by public institutions.
The power of these restraints fluctuated in previous “eras,” and it remains unclear
how strong they will be in the near future. Pluralistic constraints reached the nadir of their
strength in “The Great Mega-Project Era,” as urban renewal programs decimated urban
neighborhoods. In recent decades, federal regulations, social learning from previous
D.C.: The Brookings Institution, 2003). P. 67.
41 Ibid. Pg. 261.
projects, and more favorable case law on environmental and neighborhood impacts
fostered a new “Do No Harm” paradigm. However, Altshuler and Luberoff argue that with
the weakening of case law in this area by recent conservative appointees to federal
benches, the ability of pluralist constraints to affect decisions has been increasingly limited
to the point where it is unlikely that these tools can effectively stop mega-projects.42 On the
other hand, the increasingly acknowledged covert influence of business over these projects
is leading to broader resistance in the public. Flyvberg observes that in more and more
cases where “democracy deficits,” or a lack of public input, in mega-project planning
occurs, backlashes against the projects have followed.43 Public officials and planners may
have also internalized the threat of neighborhood resistance, as they increasingly use
mitigation programs to ameliorate the effects of mega-project impacts and subdue lawsuits
that could delay or derail projects.44
Negative Pluralism in context
Before forming hypotheses about the Phoenix light rail from negative pluralism, I
consider whether the framework, in light of the ideas that it owes to other theories and
historically and institutionally contingent arrangements, makes contributions to
discussions of local decision-making. Altshuler and Luberoff’s criticism of other theories of
urban politics are that they have been historically contingent but suggested permanent
value even as conditions for urban development changed dramatically.45 Even negative
pluralism is contingent on the “Do No Harm” paradigm that emerged in recent decades, and
D.C.: The Brookings Institution, 2003). pg. 290.
43 Ibid. Pg. 87.
44 Ibid. Pg. 234.
D.C.: The Brookings Institution, 2003).. Pg. 248.

which embedded a bias in favor of the environment and neighborhoods into government
institutions and regulations even after early resistance groups faded their direct
influence.46 A more potent institutional constraint on mega-projects, which Altshuler and
Luberoff reference in Mega-projects but do not incorporate into negative pluralism, is the
difficulty of obtaining federal funding for a new urban rail project. Ultimately, negative
pluralism reflects a three-dimensional view of power, with an eye to how elite support
coalitions can indirectly incentivize the behavior of public officials; moreover, Altshuler
and Luberoff do acknowledge in Mega-projects (if only slightly in their negative pluralism
proposal) that historical and institutional factors are crucial determinants of political
outcomes.47
Despite ever changing conditions for mega-project development, negative pluralism
provides valuable insight on phenomena that other theories have neglected to explain. For
instance, the rise of stadiums and convention centers as tools of economic development, in
lieu of highway and airport expansions, cannot be adequately explained under theories of
intermunicipal economic competition because stadiums and convention centers rarely
bring returns worth their cost.48 Negative pluralism explains that stadiums and convention
centers have stronger elite support coalitions as a result of more concentrated benefits. On
the other hand, airport expansions benefit all large corporations to a much slighter degree,
so that no particular business has a profound interest in driving the issue. Stadiums and
convention centers might also be preferred as tools of economic development because of
46 Ibid. Pg. 262

47 Ibid. Pp. 71-75.
48 Ibid. Pg. 252
their relatively low impacts on surrounding areas, which limits the ability of resistant
groups to stall or stop the project.
Five Hypotheses for Negative Pluralism
Having considered the scope of negative pluralism, below I describe several
hypotheses of the framework to be tested in this case study of the Phoenix light rail. At the
end of each of the chapters, which cover several transit tax elections, the planning process,
and the federal government’s role, I will test these hypotheses with the available data. The
hypotheses address public entrepreneurship, elite support coalitions, and pluralistic
constraints, as well as the relationship of these elements to each other. Where possible,
their language is direct quotes from the text of Mega-projects or phrases closely modeled
on Altshuler and Luberoff’s writing. While some of these hypotheses may not be exclusive
to negative pluralism, taken as a whole, they would appear to support that theory.
1. “While business has a near-monopoly in organizing support for development
proposals, the potential to derail proposals is far more diffused [among
defensive use value groups].”49
2. “Great projects are likely to move forward only when political executives
take the lead—not just in developing plans but in mobilizing and then
nurturing the private support coalitions on which their efforts ultimately
depend.”50

3. Business elites may “invest” their support in a project initiated in the public
sector, but will be unable to advance a plan ahead of the public sector.51
4. An elite support coalition is indispensible to the progress of a mega-project.52
5. Local “use value” interest groups have the capacity “to insist that business-
supported public ventures leave them no worse off, and at times to secure
positive benefits as the price of their acquiescence.53”
Research Methods
Research methods have been a significant point of contention between proponents
of competing local urban politics theories. As noted earlier, Whitt in Urban Elites and Mass
Transportation relied on pluralist, decision-centric methods in his study. Noting that this
method would bias his results towards pluralist conclusions, he reasoned that if elite or
class-dialectic results were found instead, one could have considerable confidence in the
results.54 This thesis similarly focuses on decisions, though with an eye to potential non-
decisions. Whitt’s methods included “interview data and media analysis with an
examination of campaign contribution data.55” To these, this thesis also adds analysis of
city council and citizens commission minutes56. Because this thesis relies heavily on
articles from the Arizona Republic, the Phoenix paper of record, it seems likely that it will
adopt any of the biases present in these news reports. At a minimum, that might mean an
inflated role for public officials, whose actions are more publicly observable, relative to
51 Ibid. Pp. 224, 258

52 Ibid. Pg. 258
53 Ibid. Pg. 261
54 J. Allen Whitt, Urban Elites and Mass Transportation: The Dialectics of Power (Books on Demand, 1982). Pg. 33
55 Ibid. Pg. 36.
56 In this case, the “campaign contribution data” is sourced through The Arizona Republic.
business leaders and others outside government. While interviews with more private
figures may rectify this oversight, the research methods described here could also have
their validity threatened by the unwillingness of project promoters and support coalition
members to speak truthfully of their role or critically of the project. However, given the
period of time that has passed since these events, interview subjects may feel more
detachment from the issue and be willing to engage critically.
Whitt, as well as Altshuler and Luberoff, are also notable for their longitudinal
analysis of several cases. Whereas Altshuler and Luberoff investigate a wide range of
projects over a period of decades in general terms, Whitt closely dissects five transit
proposals in California over a period of 14 years. Here, I follow one project closely, though
observing its evolution over three transportation elections and a period of eight years.
Even if biases or oversight in the research over a short period of time imperil the validity of
those conclusions, taken together, the following body of work should make a strong
contribution to the usefulness of negative pluralism.

TIMMERMAN HISTORICAL BACKGROUND 23
Chapter 3
Historical Background
The conditions under which transportation mega-projects were planned changed
dramatically over the 20th Century. As Altshuler and Luberoff characterized these changes,
the United States went from an early era of city boosterism, to a period of federally funded
and massively destructive urban freeway projects in the 1950s and 60s, and through a
transition period to a more contemporary era of tight controls on project planning.
However, the authors suggested in Mega-projects (published in 2003) that more evolution
appeared to be afoot based on their analysis of recent projects and nationwide trends.
Because their framework of “negative pluralism” is rooted in the “Do No Harm” era they
identify, any deviations in the Phoenix from their general observations from previous
decades and up to the present day may undermine the applicability of the framework in
this metropolitan area.
Like many Sunbelt cities, Phoenix experienced a growth spurt during the nationwide
industrial mobilization for World War II.57 And while the Phoenix metropolitan area was
perhaps the most prominent case of how the recent housing bubble could drive population
and economic growth, the region was certainly not unique in that respect either. However,
below I will examine below whether these trends match the historical factors Altshuler and
Luberoff observed. In particular, the homebuilders and industry leaders who helped drive
those two growth phases in Phoenix would play a crucial role in developing the state’s
transportation infrastructure and shaping political leaders.
57 William S. Collins, The Emerging Metropolis: Phoenix, 1944-1973 (Arizona State Parks Board, 2005). Pg. 2
The Pre-1950 Era
Like other cities of the time, Phoenix had an extensive streetcar network providing
public transportation to the city and even its suburbs. However, by 1947 Phoenix’s aging
city line would go into deficits, and the rail lines were ultimately ripped out and replaced
with bus routes.58 Political leaders were not transfixed by rail mass transit’s potential then;
the state, city governments and business leaders were focused squarely on building roads
to accommodate the sharp increase in motorists. In fact, the chair of the Chamber of
Commerce’s roads committee was chosen as head of the state’s first Highway Planning
Committee in 1947.59 In the face of growing traffic congestion in the city, the Arizona
Republic ran editorials calling on the city to improve public transportation, but newspaper
owner and early political powerbroker Eugene C. Pulliam would later reverse that
position.60 Though Phoenix bore little resemblance to east coast cities prior to the 1950s,
the post-war growth of the city would catapult it into similar challenges as those places.
The Great Mega-Project Era (1950 to late 1960s)
With the sharp increase in federal highway dollars in the 1950s, Phoenix might have
been expected to build the same kinds of massively disruptive urban freeway projects as
other cities had around the nation. However, several local factors put Phoenix on a
different orientation: the city’s still nascent growth, planning delays, and voters’ reluctance
to tax themselves for new mega-projects.
58 William S. Collins, The Emerging Metropolis: Phoenix, 1944-1973 (Arizona State Parks Board, 2005). P. 7
59 Ibid. p. 19
60 Ibid. p. 106
In the early 1950s, Phoenix lacked the dense neighborhoods—derisively
labeled “slums”—that were the target of urban redevelopment projects in east coast cities.
In those places, freeways (along with other supportive federal policies) were used as
pretext to raze and disperse poorer communities and allow for more upscale
development.61 While later megaprojects like Interstate 17 would have a disproportionate
impact on poor neighborhoods, Phoenix’s tiny downtown and dispersed population growth
created little demand for these sorts of projects. Perhaps as a result, freeways were not so
quickly adopted as a tool for urban renewal.
Even so, Phoenix city boosters were still hungry for federal funds for roads. Prior to
the advent of the Federal Highway Act in 1956, most federal funds went to rural road
projects, which disadvantaged the rapidly urbanizing city. Even after with the FHA, which
provided massive subsidies to highway construction projects, Phoenix’s own highway
planning efforts languished over planning disputes.62 Initial planning for the Papago
Freeway stretch of Interstate 10, today an essential piece of the Valley freeway network,
began only in 1961.63 Ultimately, the city would be one of the last large cities to complete
its urban freeway network. In part, this was because Phoenix voters were reluctant to
approve new taxes to accelerate infrastructure construction. A 1968 Arizona Republic
editorial commented that perhaps this anti-tax sentiment was fortuitous, noting the
negative consequences of urban freeway construction elsewhere in the country throughout
the 1960s. 64While the metro area would still see the construction of major freeway
D.C.: The Brookings Institution, 2003). Pp. 14, 84
62 William S. Collins, The Emerging Metropolis: Phoenix, 1944-1973 (Arizona State Parks Board, 2005). P 113
63 Ibid. p. 115
64 William S. Collins, The Emerging Metropolis: Phoenix, 1944-1973 (Arizona State Parks Board, 2005). Pp. 115, 116
projects into the early 1970s, those projects would be tempered by a more hostile climate
towards mega-projects.
In the early 1950s, Phoenix’s public transportation system was headed for a steep
decline. Phoenix Forward, a series of advisory committees to the city council created in
1968, had a transportation committee stacked with anti-transit interests.65 Mayor Milt
Graham, elected with their support, opposed federal subsidies for transit while pursuing
more money for the Valley’s developing freeway network.66 By 1959, the city’s bus
operation would be nearly bankrupt, and the city soon sold it to one of two private
operators in the Valley. Over the coming decade, Phoenix would conduct a failed
experiment with only privately run bus transit, leaving the city with virtually no public
transit by 1970.67
The Era of Transition (mid 1960s to the early 1970s)
While Altshuler and Luberoff attribute the decline in urban freeway projects that
began in the late 1960s to the growing power of civil society groups to resist mega-
projects, in Phoenix this phenomenon is more attributable to the decline in central city
business leadership. In the 1970s, downtown Phoenix retail atrophied and the new power
players were dispersed commercial retailers and homebuilders. Moreover, local businesses
began to be replaced by out of state firms, and with that the political culture changed as the
new firms headquartered here were less invested in the welfare of Phoenix.68 Local
business leaders that had helped build Phoenix after World War II began to die, including
65 Ibid. Pg. 372

66Ibid. Pg. 372
67Ibid. Pg. 116
68 William S. Collins, The Emerging Metropolis: Phoenix, 1944-1973 (Arizona State Parks Board, 2005) p. xvi
Del Webb (creator of Sun City), A.J. Bayless (“grocery store magnate”), and many others of
the Phoenix Forty group.69 Phoenix historian William S. Collins believes that some
commentators “bemoan the failure of Phoenix to perpetuate its local civic elite as the cause
of a leadership vacuum.”70 Arizona Republic newspaper owner Eugene Pulliam, who had
played a large role in Phoenix’s political affairs through the paper, would also pass away
soon.
Yet, before his death, Pulliam would split with other members of Phoenix’s political
class to oppose the Papago Freeway, a central transportation issue of the 1970s. 71 The
freeway, which was first proposed in 1961, would have formed an “inner loop” around the
downtown with the Interstate 17. By 1973, planners proposed that the freeway tower on
stilts hundreds of feet above the downtown, conveying cars to exits and up onramps on
giant “helicoils.” The radical scale of the proposal and concerns about the utility of more
freeway miles aroused tremendous opposition, and the city council agreed to refer the
decision to voters. The protests of the Citizens for Mass Transit and Against Freeways, one
of Phoenix’s first civic groups resisting mega-project development, soon reached the upper
echelons of power. The proposed freeway also split members of Phoenix’s political class
hand-picked to serve on the city’s Phoenix Forward citizens committee. The most prolific
opponent of the plan, however, was Eugene C. Pulliam, who ran near daily editorials in the
Arizona Republic blasting the freeway and warning of Los Angeles-style sprawl if the
referendum passed. Perhaps due to his crusading, the referendum failed that year. City
planners recalibrated with a revised proposal in 1974 that would have minimized impacts
69 Ibid. p. 238
70 Ibid. p. 388
71 Ibid. Pp. 116-117
by diverting downtown traffic through a tunnel, rather than along an above ground
monstrosity. Though many neighborhoods were still razed in economically depressed parts
of town, the substitution of a tunnel with fewer impacts is a clear indication of a nationwide
“Era of Transition” coming to pass in Arizona. With Pulliam’s voice gone after his death in
1975, the freeway proposal passed.
The Era of “Do No Harm” (mid 1970s to present)
Resistance to disruptive mega-projects that was brimming in the Era of Transition
was magnified in the 1970s, both in Phoenix and nationwide. However, the City of Phoenix
still made fitful attempts at building transportation mega-projects. In 1985, Maricopa
County voters passed a referendum raising the sales tax in order to fund and accelerate
freeway construction. While the majority of those funds would build suburban freeways
with few impacts on established neighborhoods, the City of Phoenix received funding for an
additional inner loop freeway. The planned Paradise Parkway through north-central
Phoenix, however, soon ran into steep local opposition. Moreover, the cost of acquiring
right of way through developed older neighborhoods led Governor Fife Symington to
cancel the freeway.72 Though these fiscal constraints are not a specific example of the “Do
No Harm” paradigm, Altshuler and Luberoff do highlight the potential roadblocks
presented by land acquisition. As would become clear later, the inability of Phoenix city
government to improve mobility in central Phoenix via freeways led to the proposal for a
relatively low-impact light rail system in the late 1990s.
72Pat Flannery, "Symington Fighting Prop. 400 Behind Scenes; Ex-Governor's Effort to Stop Light Rail Upsets Former
Aide," The Arizona Republic, October 29, 2004: B6.
Yet, before light rail became emblematic of low-impact transportation solution,
planners proposed a massive rail transit investment, known as ValTrans, in 1989. The
concept entailed over a hundred miles of elevated rail lines and a radical reorientation of
the city away from automobile transportation.73 However, doubts were raised about the
project’s cost effectiveness, and the public apparently had great distaste for rail lines
looming over city streets. The proposal failed by a nearly two-thirds margin in March of
1989, again pushing attempts at transit reinvestment in Phoenix a few more years down
the line.74 When planners responded to criticism of the Phoenix light rail’s at-grade
alignment in the 2000’s, resistance to elevated rail in the ValTrans proposal was cited as
the primary reason for that choice.75
Beyond the “Do No Harm” paradigm, another cause of the ValTrans proposal’s
failure may have been the devolution of power away from elites who had previously
dominated the city council. The passage of Proposition 200 in 1982 required city
councilpersons to be elected from eight districts, rather than from the city at large.76 In
effect, that change left the mayor as the dominant, yet lone, voice for the city as a whole,
while councilpersons focused on the affairs of their own districts. The business community
appeared to lose tremendous influence in city hall as a result of this change, which led to
the election of councilpersons representing neighborhood constituencies. Neighborhood
interests, now with champions in city hall, appeared to have a better ability to resist
projects with tremendous impacts.
73 Adrianne Flynn, "Light-Rail Line on Fast Track," The Arizona Republic, February 27, 1997: B1.
74 Burns, Elizabeth K. “Improving Traffic Congestion by Regulating Employee Travel: A Phoenix Survey.” University of
California Transportation Center, November 1991. Pg. 6. http://www.uctc.net/papers/022.pdf
75 Robbie Sherwood, "Light-Rail Impact Study a Concern," The Arizona Republic, September 18, 1998: EV9.
76 Richard de Uriarte, "Phoenix And Its Fiefdoms In 1982, District Rule Was Ridiculed By Power Brokers -- But It Has
Proven Them Wrong ," The Arizona Republic, January 26, 2003: V1.
The lesson from the failures of ValTrans and the Paradise Parkway were clearly “Do
No Harm.” The failures of certain mega-projects appeared to define a new boundary of
what was possible for city government to attempt. At the same time, even ValTrans
appeared to make more modest future attempts at rail more realistic. Phoenix would still
fail to pass a small increase in sales taxes for transit in 1994, but Tempe’s success in 1996
bolstered Phoenix leaders as they tried again in 1997.77 That tax proposal would
immediately follow a Major Investment Study (MIS) initiated in 1996 by Valley cities to
determine the feasibility of a light rail line from Central Phoenix through downtown
Tempe. It is at this renewed attempt to fund and construct an urban rail system that this
study begins.
Reconsidering Altshuler and Luberoff’s “Eras” of Mega-Projects in the Phoenix Context
While it appears that Phoenix experienced the historical trends that comprise each
of these mega-project “eras,” the city lagged others around the country in undergoing them.
By the time Phoenix began to grow as a result of the homebuilding industry and others
after World War II, “The Great Mega-Project Era” was already beginning to sunset
elsewhere. Moreover, during that time period Phoenix experienced nowhere near the
intensity of mega-project creation of other East Coast cities, especially because there was
little impetus to revitalize the still diminutive downtown and, near the end of the Great
Mega Projects Era, little will among Phoenicians to tax themselves for additional
infrastructure.
77 Mary Jo Pitzl, "Transit Panel Gets April Deadline to Devise Plan," The Arizona Republic, January 22, 1997: A3.
Perhaps the most significant forces constraining Phoenix mega-projects were not
grassroots resistance, environmental protection, or other federal regulations, but rather
the decline of Phoenix’s business elites and substantial fiscal constraints. Before Phoenix
voters rejected the Papago Freeway in a 1973 referendum, the City of Phoenix’s private
support coalition was weak: Arizona Republic publisher Eugene Pulliam had turned
decisively against freeways and other business elites were split over the issue. In the case
of the Paradise Parkway, Governor Symington cancelled the project less because of
grassroots resistance, but because of the prohibitive cost of acquiring the land to build it.
The following chapter outlines the federal requirements for constructing a mega-
project such as light rail, which will form the background for the discussion of patterns of
initiative, support and resistance in succeeding chapters.

TIMMERMAN LIGHT RAIL FINANCING AND PLANNING 32
Chapter 4
Light Rail Financing and Planning
New rail starts like Phoenix’s METRO light rail are subject to strict federal
regulations that direct the process of planning transit infrastructure, which set the stage for
the exercises of political power that this thesis studies. The Transportation Equity Act for
the 21st Century (TEA-21), which became law in 1997, describes how the Federal Transit
Administration is to provide funding for transit over the following six-year period.78 It was
the potential to receive federal funds with TEA-21 —up to 50% of the total cost of the
project’s construction— that spurred Valley cities into action planning the light rail.79
While the federal government funds highway construction through a state-
administered grant-in-aid program, it exercises considerably more control over local
transit infrastructure spending. The FTA’s budget is divided between formula and
discretionary spending, at roughly sixty and forty percent each, respectively. Whereas
formula spending is administered by local transit agencies as they see fit and is more
analogous to the highway funding scheme, discretionary spending is directed by the FTA to
specific projects across the nation of the agency’s choosing. Though there are several kinds
of discretionary spending, the relevant program for the City of Phoenix case is the “New
Starts” program. New Starts money funds new construction or major refurbishing of fixed
guideway transit corridors, including bus rapid transit, subway, and various other forms of
rail. In this way, the FTA far more closely oversees project planning and management for
78 United States Department of Transportation Federal Transit Administration, "FTA Circular C 5200.1A, Full-Funding
Grant Agreements Guidance ," (Washington, D.C., 2002).
79 Neil Manske, "Central Phoenix/East Valley Major Investment Study," City Council Report, Public Transit Department
(Phoenix, August 20, 1998), 14-17.

rail systems than for other mega-projects like highways. In some sense, the FTA’s role is
much like that of a bank to a loan applicant, shrewdly deciding how to allocate a limited
pool of money based on the merits of those that apply. Although the FTA may not directly
design rail projects, its planning process requirements and cost-effectiveness demands
have tremendous bearing the decision-making of local planners.
Through their partnership with the FTA, local agencies hope to sign a Full Funding
Grant Agreement (FFGA) contract, which entails sustainable and predictable federal
funding support through the construction of the project. Due to the federal government’s
concern for cost controls on projects, applications for an FFGA are submitted near the end
of the project’s planning in order to ensure that there will be little risk of large cost
increases. Moreover, the federal government requires that the transit agency have a
dedicated source of funding to complete the project and maintain other transit operations;
this is often a major political obstacle for cities to overcome. However, before a city even
has a promise of federal funds, planning costs can run into the millions. Moreover, before
agencies may even formally apply for an FFGA for a rail system, at each stage of planning
leading up to that point the FTA must recommend that the project proceed based on its
merits. Only when an FFGA is signed, often years after the initial planning and oversight by
the federal government, can cities be guaranteed any funding.
The first stage of project planning is alternatives analysis, where planners consider
the ability of various modes to address transportation goals. In Phoenix, this phase began
in 1996 when Valley cities commissioned the Central Phoenix/East Valley Major
Investment Study (MIS); this study was soon combined with the Phoenix/Glendale Major
Investment Study. Collectively, these studies showed that the area between downtown
Phoenix and Tempe was one of the most heavily used transportation corridors in the
Valley.80 Planners forecasted that the area would be heavily congested in the coming
decades and that rail infrastructure was a suitable solution to help alleviate this. Following
the completion of the alternatives analysis phase in May 1998, the Maricopa Association of
Governments (MAG) and the FTA gave approval for the project to proceed to the next stage.
In the preliminary engineering phase, the light rail line is sketched out in more
detail. This work includes choosing the exact alignment and selection of stations, in
addition to beginning work on tasks that require a long lead time, like an environmental
impact statement required by the National Environmental Protection Act and utility
relocation.81 Though Phoenix planners forecasted this would take them eighteen to twenty-
four months in late 1998, it would ultimately be 2003 before this work was completed.82
If a project is recommended after preliminary engineering, it may proceed into “final
design.” At this point, a complete blueprint of the system is created, and a city may begin to
acquire land to build the project.83 Most projects that reach this phase will go on to sign
FFGA with the FTA; for Phoenix, final design was completed just after the FFGA was signed
in January 2005.84 When the final design is submitted and recommended, the President’s
budget will include funding for the project as it proceeds into construction, and finally,
operation.
80 Neil Manske, "Central Phoenix/East Valley Major Investment Study," City Council Report, Public Transit Department
(Phoenix, August 20, 1998), 14-17.
Robbie Sherwood, "Light-Rail Impact Study a Concern," The Arizona Republic, September 18, 1998: EV9.

82 Bob Petrie, "Tempe Defers Finding A Home for Transit Center," The Arizona Republic, October 3, 1998: EV1.
Summary Minutes, City of Phoenix Commission on the Economy (Phoenix, March 23, 1999).
Tom Zoellner, "U.S. Agency OKs Environmental Studies on Valley's Light Rail," The Arizona Republic, January 30, 2003.

84 Bob Golfen, "Feds Ante $587 Mil for Valley Light Rail; Money Brings 'Robust' Scrutiny," The Arizona Republic, January
25, 2005: A1.

TIMMERMAN THE 1997 TRANSIT TAX ELECTION 35
Chapter 5
As transit planners prepared a Major Investment Study for a fixed guideway transit
corridor through the Valley, the most significant hurdle for public officials was creating a
funding source capable of supporting the project. Following voter approval of a sales tax
hike dedicated to funding transit in Tempe in 1996, the City of Phoenix’s own proposal
gained momentum for passage. The 1997 transit election in Phoenix would be a crucial
step in the creation of a light rail system in the Valley, and is a key source of insight for this
analysis of negative pluralism.
Though the Major Investment Study was a crucial requirement for obtaining federal
funding for the project, elected officials made few public gestures of support for rail transit
in early 1997. Rather, business elites made the most dramatic arguments for bringing rail
to Phoenix. In early 1997, the Arizona Republic wrote that the Arizona Public Service
Company (APS),85 a major utility in metro Phoenix and perennial political force, was
considering funding a demonstration run of commuter rail between Tempe and Phoenix for
one month.86 The utility had also solicited the financial support of other downtown
businesses, including the Downtown Phoenix Partnership. In the run up to the
demonstration, which would have run a rented Amtrak car over existing freight lines, APS
claimed that commuter rail would be an efficient means of transporting two thousand of its
85 APS is an affiliate of Pinnacle West Capital Corporation; Martin Shultz is identified with both.
86Mary Jo Pitzl, "Sleek Train May Roll in Valley; 1-Month Trial Run Sought," The Arizona Republic, January 12,
1997: B1.
employees to work at the Palo Verde Nuclear Generating Station.87 Given that commuter
rail systems conventionally deliver workers from suburban sites to downtown offices, APS’
primary interest in building rail appeared to be serving its exurban workers. As suggested
in the article, a secondary rationale for the project was that APS intended to raise public
support for rail in order to spur Phoenix leaders and the state legislature that such a plan
was feasible while the Major Investment Study was still underway. Pinnacle West Capital
Corporation, APS’ holding company and major player in Arizona politics, historically
favored direct public investment as a way to boost Phoenix’s overall growth and likely
because its subsidiary SunCor, a commercial contractor, benefitted from the construction
contacts. The plan, which would have cost over $500,000, was dropped by APS a short time
later because of logistical difficulties. From the perspective of negative pluralism, this
instance of business groups pushing their own initiative is surprising: Altshuler and
Luberoff, citing Dahl’s Who Governs?, believed that “great projects are likely to move forward
only when executives take the lead—not just in developing plans but in mobilizing and then
nurturing the private support coalitions on which their efforts ultimately depend.”
[emphasis added].88
Behind the scenes, Phoenix city leaders appeared to press on for rail transit, but
with crucial support from other public officials. In late February, several Arizona mayors,
business leaders and lawmakers traveled to Washington, D.C. to seek $129 million in
funding for a commuter rail project between Phoenix and Tempe.89 The necessary local
87 Ibid. ; Mary Jo Pitzl, "Conservative Pundit Backs Mass Transit," The Arizona Republic, December 13, 1996:
B1.
88 Alan A. Altshuler and David E. Luberoff, Mega-Projects: The Changing Politics of Urban Public Investment
(Washington, D.C.: The Brookings Institution, 2003). Pg. 257

89 Adrianne Flynn, "Light-Rail Line on Fast Track," The Arizona Republic, February 27, 1997: B1.
matching funds for this project were to come from Tempe’s recently passed transit tax, as
well as $6 million diverted from excess federal highway funds to local transit planning by
Governor Fife Symington, himself a rail opponent. In addition, Phoenix officials were
prepared to return to voters with another transit tax proposal by late 1997, with added
confidence after Tempe’s win. An early poll conducted on the appeal of a Phoenix transit
tax appeared promising: 69% of polled Phoenix residents were supportive, though less
than half in a similar Scottsdale poll were.90 Given the need for public transit to be
regionally oriented in this decentralized metropolitan area, Scottsdale voters’ recalcitrance
towards a new transit tax was a possible restraint on Phoenix’s own transit ambitions. The
resistance of suburban residents to transit would be an even greater threat during the
planning of the countywide transportation sales tax in 2004, where the transit priorities of
Phoenix were pitted against the desire for more freeway and road spending by suburbs.
Thus, the constraints on public entrepreneurship in Phoenix appear to be more diverse,
even at this early stage, than the use value constraints Altshuler and Luberoff described.
Phoenix officials would mobilize business support for and mollify potential critics of
a new transit tax by a conventional tactic: a citizens’ commission. In late January, the
Phoenix mayor and council created the Citizens Transportation Steering Committee (CTSC)
to draft the spending proposal for the transit tax reaching the voters in September 1997. 91
The committee of 21 was constituted of 8 members from the business community, another
8 representing each City Council district and generally from the public sector, and another
5 from local non-profits or other community organizations. The representation of each city
The Arizona Republic, "Half-Cent Sales Tax for Transit Supported," February 5, 1997: B1.
90
Mary Jo Pitzl, "Transit Panel Gets April Deadline to Devise Plan," The Arizona Republic, January 22, 1997:
91
NPC3.
council district appeared to be another example of the decentralization of power in city hall
following the implementation of city council districts in Phoenix. Still, the committee was
chaired by Valerie Manning, president and CEO of the Greater Phoenix Chamber of
Commerce, a group with tremendous influence on City political affairs. That organization
would ultimately fund the Yes campaign.92 The support of the Chamber of Commerce stood
in stark contrast to the anti-transit fervor of business a half century ago. In a February
Greater Phoenix Economic Council (GPEC) summit, 48% of business leaders indicated
support for rail mass transit, though few admitted they would actually use it.93 At the same
time, only 22% would make expanding the bus system a “priority.” These statistics hint
that perhaps the intention of business representatives on the CTSC was oriented far more
towards developing a rail transit system, with its commensurate economic development
benefits and construction contracts, than towards expanding mobility for bus users.
Though public officials had developed the rail proposal funded by the transit tax,
they were noticeably absent in the Yes campaign. Spending on the pro-side, led by CTSC
chair and Chamber President Valerie Manning, dwarfed the little organized opposition
there was.94 Yet, the proponents of the transit tax were accused of running a “stealth
campaign” by critics because they did little to engage the public on the merits of a better
transit system and downplayed the rail component. In the last weeks of the campaign, talk
radio hosts blasted the transit tax, Phoenix City Councilman Sal DiCiccio urged voters
against the tax, and the heads of the Arizona Department of Environmental Quality and
92 Janie Magruder, "Transit Issue Shows Sides Miles Apart; 2 Valley Cities Vote Sept. 9 on Tax Hike," The
Arizona Republic, September 4, 1997: A1.
93 Catherine Reagor, "Lost Quality of Valley Life Upsets CEOs; Education Gets Top Priority," The Arizona
Republic, February 5, 1997: B1.

94 Kathleen Ingley, "U-Turn on Poll Results Surprises Backers," The Arizona Republic, September 11, 1997: A1.
Department of Transportation held a press conference to question the ability of improved
transit to improve air quality.95 But opposition to the transit tax appeared to extend beyond
even these visible leaders against the attack. After the GPEC summit in February, where
business leaders advocated for light rail while a scant few supported improving bus transit,
an Arizona Republic editorial anticipated that voters were growing tired of the “we know
best” mentality of the business community.96 By the time of the election, Republic editors
noted that criticism of the transit tax fell primarily into two categories: anti-government
sentiment and a resistance to rail transit of any kind.97 These ideological and anti-
establishment sentiments driving voters against a transit proposal are quite unlike the
defensive use-value constraints that Altshuler and Luberoff identified as part of negative
pluralism. Despite polls showing nearly two-thirds of Phoenix voters supported the tax
months early, the uncoordinated response to the transit tax appeared to succeed. The
Phoenix transit tax failed by a few hundred votes in September 1997.
In the wake of the loss, picking up the pieces of the failed proposals fell to the public
sector. Regrouping behind transit was made difficult by the fact that it was not entirely
clear why the tax had failed: was it too much spending on rail, an inability to convince
voters of the air quality or mobility benefits of mass transit, or general anti-tax
sentiment?98 Initially, the Phoenix City Council considered holding another vote during
November run-off elections on a bus-only “transit lite” proposal. Yet, Rimsza was reluctant
to move forward on that proposal without support from the opposition campaign and
95 Carol Sowers, "Transit Defeat Mystifies Officials," The Arizona Republic, September 12, 1997: SC1.
96 Jennifer Dokes, "Will Commoners Be Seated at Table of Valley's Visionaries," The Arizona Republic,
February 13, 1997: B8.
97 Joel Nilsson, "Success of Anti-Transit Groups Gives Valley a Dim Future," The Arizona Republic, September
13, 1997: B6.

98 Mary Jo Pitzl, "Officials' Rail Dream Never Dies," The Arizona Republic, January 13, 1998: B1.
unanimity from all the councilpersons.99 That proposal died when a meeting between Yes
campaign head Manning and opposition leaders Sprague and Flake of the Goldwater
Institute led to no compromise. The nature of this potent opposition from ideologically
anti-tax groups (whose outreach to voters was primarily through the media in this case) is
not contemplated in negative pluralism, and the literature reviewed here gives little
guidance on the politics of proposition campaigns. Future research will need to more
closely analyze these groups that were able to derail, at least temporarily, the City’s light
rail project.
Yet, the failure of Phoenix’s election had effects on public officials far beyond
delaying the construction of a rail system. By the end of the year, as the Phoenix transit
budget faced a $1 million shortfall with no new tax revenue to fill it, a sentiment of “what
next?” gripped Phoenix city hall.100 Howard Sprague, head of the NO Transit Taxes
campaign, stated that he would propose his own alternatives, including privately run jitney
service, but none that would require a tax increase.101 His alternatives, however, would
receive little public discussion after the media storm over the transit tax died down. In the
long run, the commuter rail line that Phoenix had sought federal funds for appeared
doomed with the election’s failure.102 In other cities, hopes for expanding transit dimmed.
Mesa City Councilwoman Joan Payne believed that Phoenix’s failure could doom Mesa’s
proposal for a “quality of life” tax that included transit, although Payne was already
99 Carol Sowers, "Transit Defeat Mystifies Officials," The Arizona Republic, September 12, 1997: SC1.
100 Mary Jo Pitzl, "Phoenix Goes Public for Transit Notions," The Arizona Republic, December 18, 1997: B1.
101 Chris and Mary Jo Pitzl Fiscus, "Smaller Transit Tax in Fall? Rimsza, Others Weigh New Try on Runoff
Ballot," The Arizona Republic, September 12, 1997: A1.

102 Mary Jo Pitzl, "Transit Panel Gets April Deadline to Devise Plan," The Arizona Republic, January 22, 1997:
NPC3.
opposed to that proposal.103 In Scottsdale, the City Council voted to pull out of a long-range
planning effort for rail after the City’s own transit tax also failed in September of 1997.104
However, in Glendale, the city council voted to remain in light rail studies, even though
Glendale would have to wait until after Phoenix had constructed a starter segment to
join.105 Yet, Glendale appeared more reluctant to propose a transit tax after Phoenix’s
failure.106
Evaluating Negative Pluralism
Before city government officials and bureaucrats ever had to assuage neighborhood
groups about the impacts of the light rail project, the public sector faced significant
constraints from voters with a plethora of more abstract concerns about the light rail:
would it actually reduce congestion? Air pollution? Did the rail system’s effectiveness
justify its costs? Were the whole package’s benefits worth the half-cent sales tax increase?
Though it appeared a majority of voters answered these questions in the negative,
certainly, the transit package appealed to many who thought otherwise, even though most
of the latter group would never become transit users. After all, the new spending was
expected to increase transit’s modal share from 1 percent to only 2 percent. In light of
these broader constraints on mega-project investments and other events leading up to the
103 Chris Moeser, "City's Proposed Tax Hike in Question," The Arizona Republic, September 11, 1997: EV1.
104 Mary Jo Pitzl, "Officials' Rail Dream Never Dies," The Arizona Republic, January 13, 1998: B1.
105 Lori Baker, "Glendale to Stay on Board for Rail Transit Study," The Arizona Republic, November 24, 1997:
GPC1.
106 Lori Baker, "Transit-Tax Defeat Felt on West Side," The Arizona Republic, September 15, 1997: NVC1.
September 1997 Proposition 1 election, what can be said of negative pluralism? I return to
the hypotheses laid out in the literature review:
proposals, the potential to derail proposals is far more diffused [among defensive use
value groups].”
As Dahl noted as early as the 1960s in Who Governs?, these citizens committees are
often constituted in order to make mega-projects appear less a part of the political agenda
of the mayor and more non-partisan in nature. Though the broad expanse of membership
in the Citizens Transit Survey Committee included both persons from the business
community and from “use value” interests, the design of the proposal appeared to match
the desire of business interests. Although unconfirmed here, Altshuler and Luberoff, citing
Clarence Stone’s Regime Politics, indicate that business-dominated support coalitions often
have great leverage over community groups:
“In order to ensure wide support for its leadership, the coalition
distributes a diverse array of incentives (ranging from contracts to club
memberships to philanthropic contributions), not merely within the business
community but also to local professionals, small businesses, churches,
colleges and universities, cultural institutions, and social service nonprofits.
In the modern “reformed” city, [Stone] observes, government officials have
little patronage to distribute. The business community, however, deploys a
great deal. Thus when it unites around major projects, other local
organizations (unless they are direct project victims) tend to fall in line.”107
Thus, even though political heavyweights with the most to gain from a rail mega-project—
like Arizona Diamondbacks and Phoenix Suns owner Jerry Colangelo— were not present
on the committee, their influence may have been subtly felt. Certainly, during the transit
tax election, the contributions from Chamber of Commerce members were the powerhouse
of the “Yes” campaign. Moreover, Valerie Manning of the Greater Phoenix Chamber of
Commerce would lead both the CTSC and the campaign to pass Proposition 1.
However, given the failure of the referendum, it appears that the “potential to derail
proposals” lay even outside the broad spectrum of community groups included in the CTSC;
namely, in anti-tax and general anti-government groups. While Altshuler and Luberoff were
correct that constraints are pluralist in nature, it appears they underestimated the
potential strength of ideological groups like the Goldwater Institute in transit referendums
relative to use value group resistance. This hypothesis appears to be conditionally verified.
2. “Great projects are likely to move forward only when political executives take the
lead—not just in developing plans but in mobilizing and then nurturing the private
support coalitions on which their efforts ultimately depend.”
While the City of Phoenix did originally call for the rail study, public
entrepreneurship from Mayor Skip Rimsza to sell the proposal to the public appeared
lacking. Leadership of the Proposition 1 campaign was delegated to Valerie Manning of the
Greater Phoenix Chamber of Commerce, who commentators accused of running a “stealth
campaign” that failed to defend the proposal’s merits. While the business community was
solidly behind the proposition, it is unclear what role Rimsza played in marshalling this
support in 1997; his active role in the 2000 campaign, however, where the campaign
coffers were more than twice as full, indicates that his efforts in 1997 were less substantial.
On the other hand, the opposition campaign received tremendous support from
other public officials. Newspaper editorials after the election would attribute the
opposition to the tax by the heads of the state transportation and environmental quality
agencies, as well as Phoenix Councilman Sal DiCiccio, as among several crucial factors in
the Proposition’s demise. Despite this, the role of opposition by public officials to a mega-
project proposal—or at least its funding mechanism— is not accounted for by negative
pluralism, and thus the framework sheds no light on this role. The public officials against
the Phoenix tax may have served in some capacity as “guardians of the public interest,” ala
Flyvberg et al, but the interaction of this role with public entrepreneur is not clear.
Cumulatively, the Phoenix case presents evidence to support this hypothesis, as the
Phoenix mayor’s inability to lead a strong private support coalition in support of the transit
tax led to the proposition’s demise.
3. Business elites may “invest” their support in a project initiated in the public sector, but
will be unable to advance a plan ahead of the public sector.
As discussed in the literature review, certainly business interests are unable to
utilize the institutional resources of public agencies to plan and design rail transit projects.
Yet, as the Major Investment Study was still underway, APS’ proposed commuter rail
demonstration project indicates that business leaders will attempt to directly shape public
sector plans. While it could be argued that the demonstration was merely an instance of
business support for plans already underway in the public sector, the fact that the genesis
of the idea was from APS, which also sought to directly benefit from a rail line, indicate that
no public official was responsible for mobilizing this project. While Phoenix business
leaders did invest their support in Proposition 1, the foregoing evidence provides grounds
to falsify this hypothesis.

4. An elite support coalition is indispensible to the progress of a mega-project.
As this transit tax referendum case lacks a counterexample where business support was
essential, it is not possible to falsify this hypothesis here. However, we can note that the
alternative proposals called for by Howard Sprague of NO Transit Taxes appeared to go
nowhere without the support of business elites (let alone the public sector).
5. Local “use value” interest groups have the capacity “to insist that business-supported
public ventures leave them no worse off, and at times to secure positive benefits as the
price of their acquiescence.”
While Altshuler and Luberoff believed that the demands of “use value” groups
would lead to concessions in the form of mitigation programs, this hypothesis appears to
be more applicable in the Proposition 1 case where “benefits” have a much different sense
than mitigation. While the intention of the voters when rejecting Proposition 1 is unclear, it
seems that it can be said that a majority felt the proposition would leave them “worse off:”
whether this was from general anti-tax sentiment or an inefficient use of public resources
is unclear. Moreover, as would be reflected in the 2000 transit tax proposal and 2004’s
Proposition 400, Phoenix voters who do not use public transit appear to require “positive
benefits” in the form of benefits to the motorist, rather than mitigation benefits.
The run up to the 2000 transit tax campaign will add further perspective on the
means by which public entrepreneurs and business elite support coalitions deal with
exceptionally broad and ill-defined pluralistic constraints.

Chapter 6
Where APS and the Downtown Phoenix Partnership were unable to succeed before,
sports team owner Jerry Colangelo was able to use his financial heft to fund a rail
demonstration project in April of 2008.108 Whereas practical questions had undermined
the earlier proposal—when would the train run? Who would get to ride? And how many
times?— the purpose of Colangelo’s project was quite clear. A rented Amtrak train would
run from Tempe to a makeshift rail station immediately south of the new Arizona
Diamondbacks’ stadium, Bank One Ballpark for two games on April 17th and 18th. While
Diamondbacks officials claimed that the temporary service was just for the “novelty,”
supporting transit investment in fact underpinned the project.
Previously in March, Colangelo sparred with the Phoenix City Council, calling on
them to use city funds to provide subsidized shuttle bus service. After initially rejecting the
proposals, city officials relented under persistent lobbying from Colangelo after a source of
funds was finally identified.109 Throughout negotiations, Colangelo berated the council that
the need for this subsidy was the result of Phoenix’s failure to implement a high capacity
transit system. Of the April rail demonstration, Colangelo would later say, “Since no one
else was willing to do this, we’re stepping up to the plate ourselves.” Besides his own
considerable resources, Colangelo also organized other downtown businesses to contribute
to the project. Colangelo, clearly a direct beneficiary of a rail mass transit serving the
108 Chris Fiscus and Mary Jo Pitzl , "Sports Traffic Jam," The Arizona Republic, March 10, 1998: A1.
Mary Jo Pitzl, "Fans Get to Ride the Rails to BOB," The Arizona Republic, April 19, 1998: B1.
109 "Sports Traffic Jam," March 10, 1998.
downtown, was the most outspoken supporter of rail in the year following Proposition 1’s
failure in 1997.
Despite increasing planning progress and cajoling from business leaders like
Colangelo, public officials were by no means eager to hurry back to the ballot box for
another transit referendum. Councilpersons John Nelson and Peggy Bilsten both
downplayed the prospects of another transit tax.110 Even during Mayor Rimsza’s State of
the City address in March, there were no plans for transit highlighted. Yet, a lack of
dedicated funding for the project loomed over its progress. As Phoenix lobbied its
Congressional delegation for further earmarks to sustain the project planning, Senator Kyl
asserted that he wanted some guarantee of local funding support before continuing to
lobby his colleagues on the Senate Appropriations Committee for earmarks.111 Local
business leaders descended on Washington, D.C. to speak with Kyl about the project,
including Valerie Manning and Mike Welborn, one of Kyl’s fundraisers and chairman of
Bank One Arizona.112 In addition to Kyl’s resistance, the Federal Transit Administration
dropped Phoenix from its list of recommended projects because of the lack of a local
funding source. Given these obstacles, Councilperson Bilsten, Chair of the Transportation
Subcommittee, and Councilman Cody Williams said they would put together a plan to ask
voters about a transit tax again in the coming spring. Mayor Rimsza appeared to not take
the lead, saying that he would “back the idea if it’s the best chance of keeping rail hopes
alive,” as the Republic characterized his statements.113
110 Mary Jo Pitzl, "Light-Rail Plan Revivied for Mesa-Glendale Route," The Arizona Republic, January 14, 1999: A1.
111 Chris Fiscus and Mary Jo Pitzl, "Rimsza Seeks Sales Tax Boost," The Arizona Republic, March 25, 1999: B1.
112 Mary Jo Pitzl and Jeff Barker, "Transit Backers Push Tax Vote," The Arizona Republic, March 11, 1999: B1.
113 Mary Jo Pitzl and Jeff Barker, "Transit Backers Push Tax Vote," The Arizona Republic, March 11, 1999: B1.
By September of 1999, the council inaugurated a new “Transit 2000 Citizens’
Committee,” forming the vanguard group for the March 15th election. Several minor, but
perhaps symbolic, changes occurred in the composition of the new citizens committee that
would draft the 2000 proposal. Transportation Subcommittee chair Peggy Bilsten would
chair the new citizens committee, replacing Valerie Manning, who still served as a member
of the committee. Those two, along with twelve others from the 1997 committee, returned
to serve on the Transit 2000 Committee. As a whole, the Arizona Republic said that the
committee was “made up of transit believers” including those from the business
community who would help support the Yes campaign and “community and interest
groups that could influence the vote,” such as neighborhood groups and representatives
from the disability community.114 Still, only three of the members represented businesses
with offices in the downtown core (Ed Fox from APS, Richard Rector of Realty Executives,
and Jay Ruffner, lawyer for Fennemore Craig), though several more non-profits were also
located near the alignment.115
While the committee appeared to make some concessions to opponents of the 1997
tax, in most cases little had changed from the 1997 proposal. Appointed to the board was
James Willson, Executive Director of the Arizona Cement Association, a group that, as an
ostensible member of the “highway lobby,” was one of the few businesses or business
groups to donate to the NO Transit Taxes committee in 1997.116 Another change was the
addition of several members from Ahwatukee, a wealthy area of Southern Phoenix where
114 Mary Jo Pitzl, "Who is Crafting Transit Ballot? Light-rail Supporters Control Panel, Critics Say," The Arizona Republic,
October 5, 1999: B1.
115 Mary Jo Pitzl, "Foothills Traffic on Agenda of Panel Transit Tax Committee to Address Problems," The Arizona Republic,
October 7, 1999: EV1.

116 Mary Jo Pitzl, "Foothills Traffic on Agenda of Panel Transit Tax Committee to Address Problems," The Arizona Republic,
October 7, 1999: EV1.

the 1997 transit tax failed miserably. Becky Fenger, head of the De-Rail the Transit Tax
committee opposing the new proposal, would claim that bringing more voices to the table
had done little to alter the goals of the committee.117 Indeed, Deputy City Manager Jack
Tevlin and Steering Committee Chair Bilsten publicly stated the goals were to support bus
and rail.118 Moreover, at the Transit 2000 Citizens’ Committee’s first meeting, strong
support for rail was immediately voiced by many members of the committee. Moreover, the
proposal would ultimately include 24 miles of light rail, an increase from the 10 miles in
the 1997 proposal, reflecting the updates to Valley Connections’ plan.119 Light rail spending
would also no longer be delayed to a later date. For a light rail starter segment, this plan
certainly showed no lack of ambition— San Diego’s first segment of rail was only 3 miles,
and Salt Lake City began with 15. Ultimately, rail would sill be only 35% of the total, with
56% spent on buses and 9% on other improvements. Those other features added to the
plan were a crucial element, apparently designed to attract more voters not sold on the
1997 proposal. These additions included more bus pullout lanes to speed traffic and left-
turn arrows to improve mobility.120
Unlike the 1997 campaign, Mayor Skip Rimsza would position himself in the center
of the campaign for the transit tax when it commenced in January 2000. According to a
Republic editorial, Rimsza “took the issue and put it into overdrive” by building support and
leading the campaign.121 Rimsza apparently pledged to engage the opposition directly
117 Mary Jo Pitzl, "Who is Crafting Transit Ballot? Light-rail Supporters Control Panel, Critics Say," The Arizona Republic,
October 5, 1999: B1.
118 Mary Jo Pitzl, "Transit Tax Vote Looming; Phoeni Rail Plan Touts 0.4% Increase," The arizona Republic, September 17,
1999: A1.
119 Mary Jo Pitzl, "Transit Panel Submits Ideas; Suggests 0.4% Phoenix Tax Hike," The Arizona Republic, November 19,
1999: A1.
120 Mary Jo Pitzl, "Phoenix Rail Plan Touts 0.4% Increase," The Arizona Republic, September 17, 1999: A1.
121 The Arizona Republic, "Editorial: A Visionary Future for Phoenix; The Mayor Led, the Voters Spoke, and Transit
Passed," March 15, 2000: B8.

when fundraising from the business community for the Transit 2000 committee. Rimsza’s
central role as fundraiser also appeared clear because the Mayor transferred $51,000 funds
remaining from an earlier Phoenix Parks Preserve proposition campaign to the new
election, and pledged to roll over any remaining funds to a bond election later in the
year.122 In all, the supporters – virtually all from the business community— would donate
$1.4 million to the campaign committee, double the 1997 number. Opponents would take
in $10,000, one-third less than the value raised in 1997; notably absent were donors from
the highway lobby like the Arizona Rock Products Association. While many large backers of
the tax were located near the alignment downtown, that was not exclusively the case.
Diamondbacks and Suns owner Jerry Colangelo and APS donated $75,000, the largest
individual contributions, but so did Finova, a commercial-finance group located in
Scottsdale. The broad spectrum of contributors included the Del Webb Corporation, an
automobile insurance company USAA, and the Phoenix Association of Realtors.
Beyond the business support coalition, other public officials, who stood in near
unanimous support of the Phoenix proposal, aided the Transit 2000 campaign. In large
part, this was because other cities would depend on Phoenix’s success in the election for
their own schemes. Mayors on the Regional Public Transit Authority (RPTA) board made a
statement that Phoenix’s improved system would be “the heart of our regional transit
network.123” Cities like Mesa and Glendale had much to gain from a victory, as a loss would
leave the cities with no rapid transit backbone to connect to. Together, the mayors of
Chandler, Tempe and Mesa endorsed the proposal just before the election.124 Moreover, the
122 Mary Jo Pitzl, "Pro-Transit Campaign Spurs Gifts," The Arizona Republic, March 2, 2000: A1.
123 Mary Jo Pitzl, "Phoenix Transit Vote Will Have Wide Impact; OK Would Spur Network Plans," The Arizona Republic,
February 27, 2000: A27.
124 The Arizona Republic, "3 East Valley Mayors Join Transit-Tax Backers," February 23, 2000: B3.
Department of Environmental Quality director who publicly opposed the 1997 transit tax
came out in support of the new proposal, saying the plan was more detailed in its
benefits.125 Indeed, the ballots in the 2000 election would include detailed spending
information as well as route maps for local buses, express buses, and an map of light rail
phases up to 2030 expanding across the city.126
Proposition 2000 would ultimately pass with 65% of the vote, a resounding victory
and one of the largest transit election victories in the nation.127 Along with the tremendous
boost to the pro-transit campaign and alterations to the proposal in 2000, another
contributor to the win was the choice of election day itself. While the 1997 election was
held in September alongside the first round of city council elections, the 2000 election was
held in mid-March with no other issues on the ballot.128 Ultimately, turnout was down 25%
from the 1997 election, while early balloting increased by 25%. As in the 1997 election,
these early ballots went overwhelmingly for the pro-transit side. This tilt may be because
early voters cast their ballots before the opposition — which lacked funds for a direct mail
campaign— could earn sufficient media coverage of their grievances. With this result,
Phoenix was like many other U.S. cities in that it initially failed to pass transit
improvements at the ballot box, but succeeded on successive attempts.129 Voters in other
Southwest cities like Denver, Houston, and Salt Lake City rejected rail starts or expansions
before eventually approving them later.
125 Mary Jo Pitzl, "Transit Tax Foes Deride Light-Rail Plan," The Arizona Republic, March 10, 2000: B1.
126 Mary Jo Pitzl, "Noisy Debate is Promised Over Phoenix Transit Tax," The Arizona Republic, January 13, 2000: A1.
127 Mary Jo Pitzl, "Transit Win Spurs Other Cities to Act," The Arizona Republic, March 16, 2000: A1.
128 Robert Robb, "Transit Election Was Win for Manipulation of Voters," The Arizona Republic, March 17, 2000: B9.
129 Mary Jo Pitzl, "Din Intensifies As Vote Over Light Rail Nears," The Arizona Republic, February 13, 2000: A30.
Phoenix public officials had returned to the ballot box for a transit tax, and
succeeded with the enormous support of the business community that drowned out the
clamor of groups that were ideologically anti-tax and anti-transit. How did this election
reflect on the hypotheses of negative pluralism?
value groups].”
As in the 1997 campaign, it appeared that defensive use value groups had little
opportunity to reshape or derail the project, although a large percentage of the Citizens
Transit Survey Committee represented such groups. This might be attributed to the fact
that the mayor handpicked members and council who were strongly in support of the plan.
Even considering the broader, ideological opposition observed in 1997, it appeared that the
ability to derail proposals was quite weak. It appeared that the shifting of the election date
to March, the doubling of pro-transit resources, and the retooling of the pro-transit
campaign strategy were able to defuse this opposition from ideological groups; as will be
discussed under the fifth hypothesis, other strategies were employed to bring various
constituencies around to support the proposal. The fact that making these changes lay
within the powers of public officials and their business support coalition calls into question
how robust and pluralistic the potential to derail proposals is.
Moreover, business’ ability to organize support for a development proposal is
cloudy in this case. Mayor Skip Rimsza remained the public face of the pro-transit side
throughout the campaign, though certainly the $1.4 million provided by corporations in the
Valley gave his message considerable reach to voters. Yet, it appeared that Rimsza was also
the force leading the fundraising effort, since the funds were raised for a “trifecta” of city
proposition and bond campaigns. Unless other business leaders played a significant role in
bundling donations for the Transit 2000 campaign, it would appear in this case that
business groups were being mobilized rather than seeing business leaders mobilize others.
Mayor Skip Rimsza clearly took the reins of the electoral campaign by mobilizing
business resources in support of Proposition 2000. However, it was not always clear that
Rimsza as the executive was taking a strong hand in the development of the transit
proposal. Initially, it appeared that Councilpersons Bilsten and Williams had taken the
initiative on proposing a new transit tax in order to compete effectively for federal funds.
While Peggy Bilsten chaired the Citizens Transit Survey Committee, Rimsza contributed
mostly strong requirements on the plan’s overall composition and cost. Yet, viewing
Rimsza as secondary in this case would be a mistake. In a 2003 interview, Rimsza made
clear that he has intentionally shared leadership on major initiatives with particular
councilmembers: whereas Bilsten took the lead on transit, Phil Gordon would lead the
2001 bond election; former council member Tom Milton also played a large role in the
Parks and Preserve Proposition.130
Moreover, the concept of a “political executive” is murkier in the council-manager
form of government in Phoenix, where the mayor differs little from councilmembers except
that he is elected citywide. Managing the city bureaucracy falls to the appointed city
130 Mary Jo Pitzl, "East, West Cities Watch Race for Phoenix Mayor," The Arizona Republic, September 7, 2003: B1.
manager, rather than to mayor as in some older East Coast cities. Yet, in some way,
Phoenix’s form of government does appear somewhat suited to fostering public
entrepreneurship from the executive. In Rimsza’s own words, “I have been able to delegate
some of the local concerns to the council members, the zoning cases and the land-use
issues, and I concentrate on the larger, citywide issues… To me, that's the advantage of the
district system.131"
While Rimsza’s ability to lead on citywide issues is up for debate, in the area of
mega-projects his statements seem to hold true. Given these insights and the triumph of
the Transit 2000 initiative, it would be difficult to falsify this hypothesis.
While business groups did form a strong coalition around public sector projects, the
activism of certain business elites showed a degree of initiative out of character with
negative pluralism. Jerry Colangelo’s use of his political and financial heft showed he could
perhaps advance a plan ahead of the public sector—potentially falsifying this hypothesis—
though institutional restraints would prevent him from going much further.
On the one hand, Colangelo’s successful demonstration of commuter rail as a
transportation alternative for downtown sports venues did seem to simply support
existing planning efforts underway by Valley Connections. Yet, the rail demonstration also
appeared to support Colangelo’s simultaneous quest to have the City Council subsidize
parking shuttles to the stadium, on the basis that the city lacked a substantial rapid transit
system. While shuttles are certainly not a mega-project, his initiative was certainly a
131 Ibid
driving force in the demonstration. This forward thinking was also shown in his
announcement in 2004 of Valley Futures, a proposal to reinvigorate the downtown; the
initiative even held public meetings on the topic.132 Given a 2004 Arizona Republic editorial
despairing of the lack of leadership on downtown development, Colangelo seemed to be
moving past public leadership here as well.
This behavior is also highly unexpected from the perspective of negative pluralism
because of the incentives at play for businesspersons. According to Altshuler and Luberoff,
it is in the interest of business that government, rather than they, shoulder the costs of
mega-projects to the greatest extent possible in order to reduce costs and maximize profits.
In theory, the need for business to initiate projects should rarely arise, as these groups can
instead offer incentives to politicians to engage in public entrepreneurship for mega-
projects. While this would appear to be the optimal strategy from the perspective of
negative pluralism, many political powerbrokers, like Martin Shultz and Ed Fox of Pinnacle
West, have also attempted what Colangelo has tried. Thus, this case presents significant
evidence against Altshuler and Luberoff’s framework.
In a sense, this hypothesis reflects the inverse of the hypothesis three: in the last
case, we saw that business elites were in many ways dependent on public officials to carry
out mega-projects of immense cost and controversy but tremendous local benefits; this
hypothesis of Altshuler and Luberoff’s negative pluralism reflects a claim that public
officials are equally dependent on the tremendous financial resources of business, both for
election purposes but also for lending credibility to their policies.
132 John Stearns, "Visions Abound for Downtown," The Arizona Republic, March 16, 2004: D1.
Indeed, we have yet to see evidence that the Phoenix light rail system could
progress through the planning stages and towards construction without this business
support coalition. The support coalition did enormous work raising funds not only for the
Transit 2000 campaign, but also for two other initiatives in a “trifecta” of city ballot
initiatives. Business leaders also helped lobby Senator Kyl to support light rail in the Senate
Appropriations Committee. In that case, the close link between Bank One Arizona chairman
Mike Wellborn— a fundraiser for Kyl— with the Senator helped the City of Phoenix present
its . Yet, because Senator Kyl’s already tepid support for light rail would only decrease, the
extent of business’ capabilities in this area is open to question.
Despite the strong support for this hypothesis in the Phoenix case to date, Altshuler
and Luberoff do not directly address how a fracture in the business community over a
mega-project would adhere to the framework of negative pluralism. In Whitt’s Urban Elites
and Mass Transportation, the tug of war between highway lobby and pro-transit business
interests was a crucial determinant of the success of transit initiatives. In Los Angeles and
San Francisco, it appeared as if these conflicts were worked out behind closed doors, with
the winners contributing funds to their side and the losers stepping out of the race entirely.
Whitt explained this as being the result of deep coordination between businesses. That may
also be the case in Phoenix: while in the 1997 election, members of the highway lobby did
donate to the opposition, by 2000 steps had been taken to incorporate a representative of
the Arizona Cement Association into the Citizens Transit Survey Committee, and they
would ultimately donate no funds to either side. This may be because, as in transit
propositions covered by Whitt, the highway lobby came to see no existential threat from a
small increase in transit spending for light rail. Without more significant splits in the
Phoenix business community on transportation issues, it will be difficult to determine how
these intragroup conflicts could be resolved.
Again, while Altshuler and Luberoff focused on the ability of defensive “use value”
groups (such as neighborhood, ethnic and environmental groups) to secure mitigation of a
project’s impacts, in the Arizona case, benefits are often paid to secure the compliance of
more ideological interests. Still, at least in one case, Altshuler and Luberoff’s conception of
these pluralist constraints did hold true for the tony neighborhoods along Central Avenue
north of the downtown, who would receive promises from planners that a rail line would
not go north of Camelback Road on that alignment. Overall, however, it appeared the
addition of spending to the 2000 proposal was primarily to secure acquiescence from
broad interests in the vote so that rail could pass. The list of directed benefits was long:
Ahwatukee residents, who were strongly against Prop. 1 in 1997, would have more
representation on the citizens commission, as well as the promise of more express bus
service and eventual rail service; those worried about the cost found that the rate was
reduced in 2000, with a sunset on the tax in 20 years; most of all, motorists who had
perhaps resisted more spending on transit would benefit from new bus pullout lanes to
speed car traffic and additional left turn arrows.
Yet, perhaps the largest benefit to secure the acquiescence of unorganized interests
was the inclusion of bus spending in the 1997 and 2000 transit packages. Its inclusion in
Transit 2000 seemed to draw attention away from rail as much as it served the interests of
Phoenix’s transit dependent residents. Rail, of course, remained a source of controversy in
every transit proposal because of its novelty in Phoenix and apparently exorbitant cost.
Time after time, supporters would redirect negative attention on rail towards other
benefits of the proposal. To a typical voter, buses appeared as a tested means of transit
deserving of millions more in spending, not to mention its ability to secure broad
ideological support from liberals, environmentalists, and inconvenienced motorists who
were all unlikely to ever set foot on a bus. And though bus spending still did capture a
slight majority of overall spending in the 2000 proposal, its inclusion was by no means the
true focus. After all, the idea of a Phoenix transit tax was only rekindled when federal
funding for rail seemed imperiled. Moreover, the tax’s corporate backers had few direct
benefits to earn from bus transit, and much to gain from the construction contracts and
economic development benefits associated with a rail system. This stance was reflected in
the 1997 informal GPEC survey which showed much higher support for building rail than
improving bus transit. Thus, when more benefits to secure acquiescence needed to be
distributed more widely, the original benefit would be cut back. The lower priority of bus
spending in Transit 2000 was especially clear as it was cut to make room for other
concerns when the sales tax rate was lowered from .5 cents in the 1997 proposal to .4 cents
per dollar. At the same time, spending on rail increased dramatically as the alignment grew
from 10 to 24 miles and inflation increased the per-mile cost of construction from $25
million to $43 million.133
133 Mary Jo Pitzl, "Din Intensifies As Vote Over Light Rail Nears," The Arizona Republic, February 13, 2000: A30.
The events leading up to the Transit 2000 election appeared to support certain
theories of local politics beyond negative pluralism as well. In particular, many of the
citizens appointed to the CTSC were clearly picked for their preference for a transit plan
nearly identical to that of the city council and also the business community supporting the
effort. Indeed, the CTSC’s member’s avowed preference for a rail option in the first meeting
showed that much had been determined behind closed doors before their initial meeting.
This situation, where alternatives have seemingly been taken off the table without a chance
at a public hearing, is a classic example of a “non-decision.” As mentioned in the literature
review, the conception of a “non-decision” was part of the elitist response to pluralist
critics; elitists argued that pluralists, by studying decisions involving public exercises of
power, missed how elites could make decisions covertly. Restated more broadly, in Phoenix
the clear need for business elite support to fight the 1997 and 2000 campaigns would
indicate that the public sector’s plans were designed in anticipation of what elite support
coalitions would require. This conclusion, along with the patterns of business and public
sector dominance over interest group constraints, show a vein of elitism running through
negative pluralism.
Other events leading up to the Transit 2000 election embodied what would be
expected from public choice theory. Senator Kyl’s behavior appeared to match the caution
generally displayed by Congressmen when facing a subject of local controversy. Sen. Kyl
avoided becoming entangled in local politics by suggesting he would withhold his support
until Phoenix had a secure source of funding, likely through a transit tax. Moreover, by
meeting Phoenix officials and members of the business community several times in the late
‘90s and early 2000s, Sen. Kyl demonstrated an interest in targeting benefits of his
congressional work at a specific constituency that could reward him. While the passage of
the transit tax would have appeared to assuage Senator Kyl and ensure his support for
federal earmarks, Phoenix’s headaches with Arizona’s Congressional delegation were
already beginning.
TIMMERMAN THE PLANNING AND DESIGN PHASE 61
Chapter 7
The Planning and Design Phase
The success of the 2000 proposition left little honeymoon from transit politics. In
the immediate aftermath of the March election, there was renewed energy directed
towards the planning of the system. Before the end of November that year, the Phoenix City
Council would approve a preliminary route.134 The Council planned to specify station
locations along the line by March of 2001, a year after the election.135 Throughout this time
period the long public involvement campaign would continue, including public hearings,
informational pamphlets, and briefings by city staff. Ultimately, planners hoped to proceed
to the final design stage, where they would produce an exact blueprint of the system, by the
spring of 2002.136 Planning proceeded under fairly tight budgetary conditions. Although
federal funds could potentially cover fifty percent of the project’s cost, the City of Phoenix
would be responsible for any overages. Stringent FTA audits would also require the city to
spend money judiciously.137
Yet, these design phases were far from straightforward, rational planning exercises.
Land acquisition, amenities, and the track alignment remained nettlesome issues over this
time period, provoking feverish political jockeying between stakeholders such as
neighborhood groups, local business interests, and city bureaucrats. The controversies
were further complicated by the fact that programs to mitigate the impact of the rail on one
134 Elvia Diaz, "City Council Gives Nod to Rail Route," The Arizona Republic, November 1, 2000: B2.
135 Kelly Pearce, "Planners Hear Advice On Rail; Chris-Town Residents Offer Views," The Arizona Republic, January 19,
2001: 1.
136 Neal Manske, "Public Process for Light Rail Transit Alignments," City Council Report, June 20, 2000: 3.
137 Bob Golfen, "Feds Ante $587 Mil for Valley Light Rail; Money Brings 'Robust' Scrutiny," The Arizona Republic, January
25, 2005: A1.

end of the track threatened to cause cuts to amenities on the other end. Though light rail is
certainly less destructive than freeway construction, property owners along the sides of the
track were certainly not insulated from its impacts. Because the light rail was designed to
run in street medians, in order to maintain existing road capacity the City of Phoenix would
acquire land from surrounding businesses to widen roads along the light rail alignment.
Ultimately, an estimated 700 properties would need to be purchased in whole or in part,
500 of which were in Phoenix, and each with the potential to slow the progress of the
project if landowners resisted the city’s acquisitions.138 Once construction began,
businesses would be further imperiled by lane restrictions, traffic diversion, and the
impacts of dust. Camelback Road and Apache Boulevard property owners were particularly
strident in demanding mitigation of the rail’s impacts, or even diversion of the route.
In three corridors in particular where the exact alignment was still unknown,
planners and area stakeholders feverishly contested the route. The first flashpoint was the
central leg of the route between Phoenix’s downtown and the city’s border with Tempe to
the east. Along that corridor, Van Buren Street or various combinations of Washington and
Jefferson Street alignments could host the route. A second issue was how the trains would
connect to Sky Harbor Airport, a major employment center and destination for many
transit users. Third, the alignment along the end of the route near Christown Mall had
remained a mystery for all parties involved; the decision to use 15th or 19th Avenue would
ultimately alienate neighborhood groups or the mall owners anchoring the northwest end
of the track.
138 Elvia Diaz, "Phoenix to Buy 1st Building in Preparation for Light Rail," The Arizona Republic, September 28, 2001: B2.
Each demonstrates the interplay between public entrepreneurs, business support
coalitions, and pluralist constraints in a manner more similar to what Altshuler and
Luberoff have described of negative pluralism. However, the framework still left much
unexplained. After examining these three cases, I will return to more general cost concerns,
as well as a discussion of intermunicipal affairs between Phoenix, Tempe, and Glendale and
analysis of the five hypotheses of negative pluralism over this time period.
1. Van Buren, Washington, or Jefferson?
Downtown Phoenix and downtown Tempe would always be lynchpin destinations
of any Valley rail system, by virtue of employment and residential density significantly
higher than the rest of the metropolitan area. How to connect these two cores along a
major transportation corridor was less clear. When commuter rail was still considered an
option as the Major Investment Study began in 1996, using Union Pacific-owned freight rail
tracks appeared to be an efficient, low-impact route, albeit with little economic
development potential. After the failure of the 1997 transit tax proposal, Union Pacific
withdrew their support for this option, leaving an at-grade street route as the only option.
Splitting east and westbound travel between the one-way Washington and Jefferson
streets had historically been preferred by planners, as those streets ran adjacent to major
destinations like Bank One Ballpark and America West Arena that would generate a large
number of trips.139 However, that route would poorly serve transit users in East Phoenix
who clustered around Van Buren St., one super-block north of Washington. During public
hearings over the alignment, minority-owned small businesses along Van Buren clamored
for the alignment to be moved north to Van Buren so that the rail’s economic development
139 Mary Jo Pitzl, "Determining Rail Routes is Puzzling for Planners," The Arizona Republic, July 13, 2000: A1.
spillover effects could boost the depressed area.140 The local business group, which at a
glance may have had little leverage over a mega-project, in this case had the support of the
local Councilman Cody Williams. While Williams may have had bully pulpit as the elected
official representing the area, he was unable to sway other councilpersons to his side.
While the initial decision on the route would ultimately rest with the Citizens
Transit Committee, planners made strong cases against plotting the alignment along Van
Buren. While more riders lived along Van Buren than Washington and Jefferson, the there
were “nearly 50 percent more workers within a three-block downtown area than the entire
Van Buren alignment.141” Washington would also serve Sky Harbor Airport more effectively
and the approximately 25,000 workers there. Moreover, routing along Van Buren would
cost $70 million more because of the extra right of way that would need to be obtained for
road widening. When the decision on the alignment between Downtown Phoenix and
Downtown Tempe reached the City Council, Mayor Skip Rimsza also objected to diverting
the light rail for economic development.142 He insisted that the purpose of the transit tax
was purely for transit, not economic development, a version of events perhaps wildly
inconsistent with what the mayor would say to downtown business interests behind closed
doors. The Council then passed the alignment with only Councilman Williams voting no.
While the decision to run the route along Washington and Jefferson clearly satisfied
rational planning criteria related to cost and ridership, the decision was no means
apolitical. This case will be looked at in context with other cases at the end of this chapter.
2. Sky Harbor Alignment
140 Elvia Diaz, "Rail Route Urged Near Downtown," The Arizona Republic, October 25, 2000: B1.
141 Ibid.
142 Elvia Diaz, "City Council Gives Nod to Rail Route," The Arizona Republic, November 1, 2000: B2.
A second immediate planning issue entwined public officials from both legislative
and executive branches of local, state, and federal government. The dispute would
ultimately test the boundaries of the concept of a “public entrepreneur” in negative
pluralism. The issue at hand involved the rail’s interface with Sky Harbor International
airport along the middle of the alignment, between 24th Street to 44th Street. As the plan
stood in early 2000, planners had sketched in a 24th Street and Washington/Jefferson
Street bus connection to terminals.143 Pressure on the city council by former Mayor of
Phoenix and current Attorney General of Arizona Terry Goddard threw that plan for a loop.
As mayor, Goddard had recognized Terminal 4 as a major destination in the valley, and
specified that the design include an underground rail terminal to accommodate a future
system. Again, city transit officials publicly protested the idea’s tremendous cost and
difficulty, and cited the increase in end-to-end travel time that would be added as a result
of stops at each of the airport’s 3 terminals, plus the rental car facilities and parking
garages.144 In addition, airport and airline officials resented the idea of staffing another
remote check-in gate. Mayor Rimsza remained agnostic, saying he would consider the plan
if money for it could be found.145
Rather than let the plan die at the feet of planners and the City’s Airport department,
Goddard went to Representative Ed Pastor (D–Arizona), the main backer of federal funding
for Phoenix’s project, to help find funding for the alignment change.146 Pastor’s strong
support for the idea apparently helped bring City of Phoenix officials around to considering
it. Rep. Pastor brokered a meeting between the FTA and FAA to determine the possibilities,
145 Elvia Diaz, "Airport Light-Rail Route Explored," The Arizona Republic, January 2, 2001: A1.
146 The Arizona Republic, "Getting from Point A to Point B," January 22, 2001: B6.
though the plan ultimately did not go far, given the FAA’s reluctance to pay for transit
improvements at airports. Still, the case represents a unique situation where the Phoenix
city council and mayor, purportedly the public entrepreneurs of the rail system, were
compelled to renegotiate the route by a former public official going over their heads to the
project’s primary congressional sponsor.
3. 15th or 19th Avenue Alignment
The initial segment of the Valley’s light rail system was to end at Christown Mall, a
magnet for transit trips in a sea of low-density development northwest of downtown
Phoenix. The mall is situated between 15th and 19th avenues, with the latter a typical
commercial strip, and 15th street a quieter one separating the mall and residential
neighborhoods to the east. On the Transit 2000 ballot, the question of whether to use 15th
Avenue or 19th Avenue to connect to the mall was left open. However, the Christown mall
owners had made a compelling case for 15th Avenue by offering to host a park-and-ride
facility on their property and help build the station if that alignment was selected.147
Neighborhood groups quickly mobilized to protest the idea, setting the stage for a conflict.
The controversy would ultimately drag on for nearly two years, with mounting
threats toward the city from each side. Activist Deb Campbell said, “We will stop the whole
light rail project” and argued, “The train shouldn’t be there just to benefit the shopping
center.148” At a September 2000 public meeting, homeowners packed the event to protest
the 15th Avenue alignment. On the other hand, the Christown Mall owners threatened to
pull their offer to build a park-and-ride facility if the 19th Avenue alignment was chosen,
causing members of the Citizens Transit Commission to delay a scheduled vote on the
148 Ibid.
issue.149 Moreover, the owners would even threaten to sue the city over the change.150 In
cost-benefit terms, the perspective of planners was that the 19th Avenue route would cost
$30 million more, in part because the street was a major traffic corridor and would need to
be widened if light rail took up the center lanes.151 Ultimately, the Citizen’s Transit
Committee, unwilling to rile homeowners, would choose the more expensive route along
19th Avenue.152 Costs would rise even higher, as the city was ultimately forced to purchase
a strip mall and raze it for a park-and-ride location south of Christown mall at Montebello
and 19th Avenue.153
More generally, it appeared as if the City of Phoenix was taking concerns about
impacts seriously. To soften local opposition, the city certainly added more amenities not in
the original design. After concerns from businesses all over the line about accessibility
when the light rail covered the median, nearly fifty more traffic signals were installed along
the rail’s length, particularly along Camelback Road and Apache Boulevard in Tempe where
small businesses were the best organized.154 The City of Phoenix also added an extra lane
on Camelback to address concerns about mobility. In addition, five more stations were
added to the plan to help gain the support of neighborhoods that felt ignored by the
original plan; in particular, a 32nd Street station was sketched in near the Wilson
Neighborhood along the longest gap between stations in the system.155 Also, nearly a
149 Elvia Diaz, "Light-Rail Path a Phoenix Quandary," The Arizona Republic, October 28, 2000: B1.
150 Elvia Diaz, "Fears, Cheers for Light Rail," The Arizona Republic, April 17, 2001: A1.
151 Elvia Diaz, "Light-Rail Path a Phoenix Quandary," The Arizona Republic, October 28, 2000: B1.
152 Yvonne Wingett, “Stores May Make Way For Cars; Light-Rail Parking Site Backed Over Neighbors' Objections.” The
Arizona Republic,. May 11, 2002: A1.

153 Elvia Diaz, "How They Voted," The Arizona Republic, June 15, 2002: 2.
154 The Arizona Republic, "Light-Rail Bill Up $100 Mil," March 20, 2004: A1.
155 Kelly Pearce, "Kids Speak for Station on Rail Line," The Arizona Republic, April 20, 2001: 1.
The Arizona Republic, "Light-Rail Bill Up $100 Mil," March 20, 2004: A1.
thousand new park-and-ride spaces and additional amenities like shade and landscaping
made it into the final design. In only a few cases did mitigation programs border on “green
pork” – that is, amenities unrelated to the project used to secure the support of local
interest groups for the mega-project effort. In one instance, the Willo neighborhood in
central Phoenix, which feared automobile traffic would use its streets as to cut through to
avoid Central Avenue construction, successfully lobbied the city to follow through on long-
delayed plans to close off certain neighborhood streets to through traffic.156
Light rail planners also strategized to increase the tolerance of businesses to
impacts from building the light rail system, a source of tremendous negative coverage of
rail in other cities. Before construction, the light rail board of directors would create
community advisory boards along five major segments along the rail lines to collect
complaints from businesses and investigate dust control and signage problems caused by
contractors. The boards were strengthened by giving them the power to withhold some
payment from contractors who failed to comply.157 With the financial support of the rail’s
large business backers, the light rail board flew in small business owners from cities like
Portland, Salt Lake City, and Houston who had experienced a construction of light rail
before to speak at a conference for local business owners. In addition, the light rail board
commissioned a study on the economic benefits of light rail in Phoenix to distribute, and
helped advertise and draw shoppers to businesses along the route’s construction.158 The
planner’s claims about the impacts were hardly sunny, however. All that rail officials would
promise to business owners was that access would not be cut off by construction, all
William Hermann, "Meeting on Light Rail Invites Input," The Arizona Republic, August 28, 2002: B4.
156 Yvonne Wingett, "Willo Area Residents Battle Encroachment," The Arizona Republic, September 4, 2002: B4.
157 Adam Klawonn, "Light Rail Folks Ready East Valley for Disruptions," The Arizona Republic, October 12, 2003: B1.
158 William Hermann, "Construction Worries Owners," The Arizona Republic, November 18, 2002: A1.
signage would remain, and that there would be notification of utility cut offs. The City’s
strategy to help business owners weather the construction was one of many lessons taken
from other cities.
These programs, though crucial to obtaining local support for the rail system and
increasing its fairness, steadily inflated the cost of the project even as the city’s ability to
pay for the project was challenged. By early 2003, the project’s cost had risen to $1.03
billion dollars; a year later, the cost would be nearly $1.3 billion, before finally rising
another $100 million.159 In large part, these cost increases were due to the changes like
adding stations, park-and-ride spaces, shade, shifting the alignment to 19th Avenue, the Salt
River bridge design, and more train cars.160 However, these changes had not always been a
given. When the economic growth began to slip nationally in 2001, sales tax revenues did
as well, impacting the City’s ability to pay for the amenities it continued to promise.161
By 2002, city planners continuously proposed and abandoned cost-cutting plans as
firestorms erupted in response to each proposal. Initially, the city proposed cutting the
amount of shade at stations and the number of park-and-ride spaces, but those changes
appeared to be inadequate alone. The planners then floated the idea of canceling five
stations, including two along Central Avenue at Encanto Boulevard and Roosevelt Street,
near the Heard Museum and the burgeoning Roosevelt Row Arts District, respectively, and
more along the Washington/Jefferson leg. The proposed changes led to fiery city council
meetings where neighborhood activists denounced the changes, leading the city council
and citizens’ transit committee to backpedal on the proposal and make promises not to
159 Tom Zoellner, "Phoenix to Borrow $500 Mil for Light Rail," The Arizona Republic, February 12, 2003: B8.
160 Elvia Diaz, "Light Rail Roaring Toward Overrun?," The Arizona Republic, June 9, 2001: B1.
The Arizona Republic, "Valley Officials Plan Cost-Cutting Measures," June 11, 2001: B6.
The Arizona Republic, "Light-Rail Bill Up $100 Mil," March 20, 2004: A1.
161 The Arizona Republic, "Keep Light Rail On Track," November 1, 2001: B6.
cancel any stops.162 The City of Phoenix’s alternative scheme to cut costs led to a second
round of protests. Planners believed that by filling the track beds with gravel, rather than
paving with concrete around the tracks, the city could lower the project’s cost; Tempe had
also considered that idea as costs rose along its stretch. However, this change aroused the
ire of some of the largest backers of the rail project in the City’s business support coalition.
For instance, Martin Shultz, representing APS, criticized the damage that plan would have
on the aesthetic appeal of the downtown. Through the downtown business group the
Phoenix Community Alliance, Shultz would help push the city back from that idea as well.
Ultimately, extra federal funds, channeled through MAG, would help allay the cost of two
stations, but the city would still be on the hook for higher costs.
In the final change to the alignment before construction, the leverage that large
institutions had over the alignment relative to neighborhood groups was clear. Airport
officials, who had planned to build an automated people mover system connecting airport
terminals and other facilities, decided in mid-2003 that their system could best connect to
the light rail at a hypothetical 44th street station. The Citizens Transit Committee soon
approved moving the 40th Street station there, and replacing the 32nd street station with a
38th street station.163 At that meeting, no residents from the Wilson neighborhood even
attended to protest, in a sign of either the community’s lack of organization or the city’s
disinterest in notifying the residents about the changes under way. By the time the
proposal, reached the city council for final approval, Wilson Elementary School district
officials and area residents would return to the city council to ask for the station again. As
Mayor Rimsza had perhaps disingenuously claimed to Van Buren businesses before,
162 Elvia Diaz, "Phoenix Likely to Keep All 18 Light-Rail Stops," The Arizona Republic, March 2, 2002: B1.
163 The Arizona Republic, "Light Rail Stops May Be Shuffled," May 9, 2003: B6.
Councilman Dave Siebert again responded to the petitioners that the purpose of the light
rail system was for transit, not economic development.164 With the city council’s vote
approving the change, the final alignment for the light rail starter segment through Phoenix
was set.
Altshuler and Luberoff specify that environmental regulations, federal protections,
and the increased ability of community groups to mobilize against mega-projects have had
the effect of enshrining “Do No Harm” as a principle of mega-project development. The
preliminary engineering phase was the first real test of that principle in the Phoenix case.
Pluralistic constraints, which have benefitted from the “Do No Harm” paradigm nationally,
still appeared to be weak in the Phoenix case, as will be discussed below; however, use
value groups were able to obtain mitigation programs that lowered the impacts of the rail’s
construction and operation. Below, I evaluate the hypotheses in more detail.
value groups].”
Indeed, interest groups that appeared not to be organizers of support for the 1997
and 2000 campaigns became more prominent in the design phase, heavily contesting the
light rail’s alignment. A pluralistic array of groups along the alignment— including the 15th
Avenue neighborhood group, the Wilson neighborhood, various small business coalitions,
and landowners of large properties like Christown Mall— did appear to have the ability to
164 Sarah Anchors, "Residents to Ask for Light-Rail Stop Again," The Arizona Republic, May 30, 2003: B4.
delay or divert the light rail project, if only inadvertently, as they attempted to avoid the
project’s impacts.
However, from this case study, the focus on these groups in negative pluralism as
“use value” oriented may be inaccurate. The Christown Mall owners, while not land
developers per se, did have an interest in how light rail could increase the value of their
property and were the intended anchor of the alignment’s north-west end (as a side note,
while other businesses were clearly concerned about the rail’s impacts for purely financial
reasons, this need not make them “exchange value” interests if land development is not
their primary concern). It is also interesting that in the Christown Mall case, the dispute
was between stakeholders over who would bear the burdens and benefits of the alignment,
rather than between neighborhood groups fighting the design favored by planners. Thus,
this hypothesis is supported here, though certain complexities were added to the picture
suggested by negative pluralism.
Notably, elected officials and their business support coalition from the 1997 and
2000 campaigns were rarely involved in further developing plans at this stage, with a few
exceptions. When planners considered the alignment through the airport, a source of much
intergovernmental controversy, Phoenix Mayor Skip Rimsza appeared willing to let other
officials and bureaucrats decide the intersection of the light rail through one of the City of
Phoenix’s most important economic assets. Instead of him, former Phoenix Mayor and
Attorney General of Arizona Terry Goddard drove the course of discussions regarding this
leg. Goddard’s ability to tap one of Mayor Rimsza’s fiercest congressional supporters,
Representative Ed Pastor, allowed him to practically drag Rimsza to the table to reconsider
the alignment through the airport. While Rep. Pastor is not a member of the business
support coalition (considering that he does not seek dividends from the mega-project
construction), it is nevertheless clear that in this case public leadership was both weak and
(perhaps accordingly) subject to a large degree of influence from supporters. While
Goddard’s effort failed despite his advocacy, this case casts some doubt on this negative
pluralism hypothesis at issue.
Given the specific scope of this chapter on planning controversies after the 2000
election, it is not surprising that private support coalitions for the public sector’s effort
were relatively minor players here. However, business elites were not entirely absent from
these debates. Although not documented above, an organization of downtown business
interests called the Phoenix Community Alliance did lobby the Citizens Transit Committee
and planners to consider adopting a different route for the light rail through downtown .
Specifically, they suggested that an additional loop be added, in addition to the proposed
alignment, in order to serve more downtown businesses to the north. On the original route
would run “A” trains while a “B” trains would serve the spur, with both kinds of trains
proceeding along the rest of the track at the end of the loop. While planners offered to
study the concept, the idea was not raised again. Business groups may have had difficulty
advancing their mass transit schemes to completion, but their initiative in this area
nevertheless contradicts Altshuler and Luberoff’s framework.

This hypothesis was supported by the above events, even though the scope of this
chapter excluded the most significant exercises of power by private support coalitions over
mega-projects. While the progress of the project was imperiled by the planning
controversies around Christown Mall, among others, the businesses that constituted rail’s
private support coalition did not intervene; though this is not surprising, given the public
sector’s ability to mediate these disputes, the power of the private support coalition clearly
has its limits. Large businesses did help finance the outreach efforts of planners to local
businesses that would be negatively impacted by the rail’s construction, however.
What is more surprising was the business community’s lack of involvement in the
dispute surrounding Sky Harbor International Airport. Even though the airport is an asset
to the local business community at large, publicly only airline carriers showed concern
about how the alignment would interface with the airport. This fact has implications for the
framework more broadly. It reinforces earlier assertions that airport mega-projects lack
clear constituencies for support. Moreover, downtown business interests that formed the
private support coalition for light rail may have been agnostic about the airport debate
because it would affect their immediate concerns only slightly.
The events covered in this chapter produced clear and extensive evidence
supporting this hypothesis, especially as planners inserted additional stations and left turn
signals. Earning the acquiescence of local business owners appeared to be a priority of
planners, as businesses shuttered by light rail had proven to be public relations disasters in
other cities. Except for the controversy that arose over the 15th Avenue alignment, the
resistance of local “use value” interests was anticipated by planners and deflated by
mitigation programs.
While businesses along the Camelback corridor were able to insist that the light rail
leave their businesses no worse off than before, the businesses coalition along Van Buren
Street was not able to insist that the light rail mega-project leave them better off than
before. Although these businesses certainly valued their land for its ability to generate
profit, these landowners did not appear to act as an exchange value group normally would,
because their group is not oriented to lobby for land use reforms over a long period of time.
Even with the support of the local Councilperson Cody Williams, their lobbying activities
were insufficient. Resistance to their claims, in large part, came from planners who balked
at the low cost-efficiency of that alignment because it failed to serve downtown employers
and leisure destinations well. These planning requirements likely account for why South
Phoenix’s Hispanic communities, with large transit dependent populations, did not see
tremendous benefit from the light rail project.165 The minimal influence of neighborhood
groups would be especially clear as the City of Phoenix sought federal funding for the
project.
165 Tom Zoellner, "Phoenix Latinos Lack Say," The Arizona Republic, March 3, 2003: A1.
TIMMERMAN THE FIGHT FOR FEDERAL FUNDING 76
Chapter 8
The Fight for Federal Funding
Before Phoenix would receive its full funding grant agreement from the FTA, the
project would have to compete aggressively with projects from around the country, both
within Congress and within the FTA’s New Starts program. Substantial up front costs for
planning and design also pressured the City of Phoenix towards pursuing earmarks in
Congressional appropriations bills. While a solid, sustained federal funding commitment
would not come until the FTA entered into a Full Funding Grant Agreement (FFGA) with
the RPTA, would still be required to fulfill federal requirements to become eligible for a
FFGA later. Phoenix’s attention to the rising costs of the light rail project was motivated in
part by the need to earn a high rating in the FTA’s cost-effectiveness rating. Accordingly,
this chapter will focus on the relationship between the light rail project’s public and private
backers in Phoenix and Arizona’s congressional delegation, which would be responsible for
helping to secure funding in support of this project.
The project’s progress through the FTA’s project development process would
inform a great deal of the competition for federal funding. As mentioned in Chapter II,
transit agencies that plan to apply for a FFGA must complete the agency’s project
development process, and be reevaluated at each stage (though ratings are updated
yearly). The original funding request was submitted in 1997, when the MAG Regional
Council voted to include a rail transit corridor into its Long Range Transportation Plan.166
Completion of the alternatives analysis (or Major Investment Study) and continuation to
166Neil Manske, "Central Phoenix/East Valley Major Investment Study," City Council Report, Public Transit Department
(Phoenix, August 20, 1998), 14-17.
the preliminary engineering phase required FTA approval. At that point, the FTA gave the
project somewhat tepid approval, with moderate marks for “project worthiness” but less
for local cities’ capital financing capabilities.167 The report explicitly underscored the vast
gap between what Phoenix was hoping to build and what it could actually afford to do. The
latter rating would change when Phoenix passed the Transit 2000 tax, but Phoenix would
also need to reduce costs to improve the project’s cost effectiveness rating. By the end of
1998, all of the project’s legs would receive approval to proceed to preliminary
engineering. Though this phase was anticipated to take roughly 2 years, delays occurred as
a result of difficulty determining the minimum operating segment and necessary revisions
to the ridership model used to evaluate the project.168 Those delays would lengthen the
time between when Phoenix would be able to begin recouping its mounting costs from the
federal government.
Ultimately, it would be 2003 before Phoenix received the FTA’s “record of decision”
approving its Environmental Impact Study and complete preliminary engineering; by this
point, the project was now rated “highly recommended,” based on factors including
Phoenix’s large share of the cost and poor local air quality.169 At the time Phoenix’s system
was one of only two projects to receive this rating, making it highly competitive to
eventually receive a FFGA. Though by the time the project advanced to the final design
stage in July of 2003 it was nearly a year behind schedule, the future still looked promising:
each project that had reached this point had received a Full Funding Grant Agreement, and
167 Annual Report on New Starts Proposed Allocations of Funds for Fiscal Year 2000, Report of the Secretary of
Transportation to the United States Congress (Washington: Federal Transit Administration, 2000). Appendix A.
169 Mary Jo Pitzl, "Brown Cloud Accelerates Feds' Recommendation on Light Rail," The Arizona Republic, February 7, 2003:
B1.
Phoenix could now submit its application for that contract. The final design stage did come
with some additional burdens: Phoenix would have to begin utility relocation underneath
the rail line and begin acquiring property necessary for construction. All of these things
would require tremendous up front costs, for which Phoenix would have to bond.170 For
instance, land acquisition was expected to cost $114 million. This would be paid for by a
$500 million bond backed by revenues from the 2000 transit tax. However, the tremendous
debt service on this bond—nearly $205 million over its life—dramatically increased the
need for swiftly advancing to the FFGA.171 Even then, the FFGA commitment might not be
enough for Phoenix. While the Bush Administration would announce in 2004 $75 million in
spending on the Phoenix project in its FY2005 budget, President Bush announced that he
would cap FFGA yearly spending at $80 million. While these are substantial sums, the $80
million number appeared it might be inadequate to support Phoenix as it began capital-
intensive construction of the system.
To make up for the long timeline in receiving funding commitment from the FTA
and potential inadequacies of funding even after that, the support of Arizona’s
congressional delegation was essential. For a variety of projects, large and small, cities
depend on federal earmarks from congresspersons. Nearly a year after Phoenix voters
overwhelmingly passed the Transit 2000 tax and the project muddled through preliminary
engineering, Arizona’s two senators and, at the time, six representatives were divided. Rep.
Ed Pastor (D), of West Phoenix, remained firmly supportive, as was Sen. Kyl (R) at the time.
Both were extremely influential supporters, as they sat on the appropriations committees
170 Tom Zoellner, "U.S. Agency OKs Environmental Studies on Valley's Light Rail," The Arizona Republic, January 30, 2003:
B7.
171 Tom Zoellner, "Phoenix to Borrow $500 Mil for Light Rail," The Arizona Republic, February 12, 2003: B8.
of each body that would ultimately decided whether the project would be given funding in
a given year.172 Other representatives like Rep. J.D. Hayworth (R) and Rep. John Shadegg
(R) remained supportive, but appeared unwilling to fight very hard on the light rail’s
behalf.173 Sen. McCain (R) and Rep. Bob Stump (R) were silent, and appeared to be on the
fence. Meanwhile, newly elected Rep. Jeff Flake (R), who was once the executive director of
the Goldwater Institute, which opposed the Phoenix transit taxes, was again a staunch
opponent of the light rail system (and congressional earmarks in general).174 Though other
representatives were not as strident as Rep. Flake in opposition to earmarks, others had
lingering concerns that funding for the project would merely be congressional “pork.”175
Given the mild support for the project, which was tempered further by concerns
from conservative members about earmarking funds, Phoenix public officials and members
of the business community engaged in extensive lobbying on the issue. The goal, according
to businesspersons on a trip organized by GPEC, was to give “focus and political cover for
the delegation” by presenting a unified front in support of the project.176 Thirty more
members of the Chamber of Commerce traveled to Washington that year to meet with Rep.
J.D. Hayworth to ensure his support for the rail project.177 Meanwhile, Councilperson
Bilsten, who led the Phoenix delegation, claimed to be “disappointed” in Arizona’s
congresspersons, and called on them for more funding support, while Tempe Mayor Neil
Giuliano also called for more leadership at the federal level.178 However, it is not entirely
172 The Arizona Republic, "Feds Back $18 Million for Light Rail," September 26, 2002: B1.
173 The Arizona Republic, "Rail Funding on Track," May 30, 2002: 2002.
The Arizona Republic, "Keep Light Rail On Track," November 1, 2001: B6.
174 “Keep Light Rail on Track,” Nov. 1, 2001.
175 Jon Talton, "New Valley Consensus Should Help Get Our Share from Uncle Sam," The Arizona Republic, April 28, 2001:
D1.
176 Ibid.
177 The Arizona Republic, "Hayworth Right on Track," February 3, 2002: V4.
178 Elvia Diaz, "Lawmakers' Skepticism Jeopardizes Light Rail," The Arizona Republic, January 24, 2002: A1.
clear that Phoenix’s cries of being ignored by the congressional delegation were true.
Phoenix’s funding request in FY2002 would be nearly $80 million, an exorbitant sum
considering that in the previous year all 30 projects in preliminary engineering received
less than twice that amount collectively.179 Ultimately, the city received $9 million, which
ranked 5th of the 16 projects in preliminary engineering given earmarks in FY2002. 180
Many more received no federal funding at all. Certainly, a great deal of lobbying may have
been required to achieve that given the competition among New Starts projects, but
Phoenix by no means lost out in FY2002. Complications would mount in the future as
congressional support soured and the economy worsened, but Phoenix remained fairly
strong going forward.
A variety of factors could be identified as the reason why Phoenix was able to attract
federal earmarks, but work by Rep. Ed Pastor appeared to be the driving force. The City of
Phoenix, for its part, would hire former Representative Matt Salmon to aid it in its lobbying
activity, but Salmon’s influence remained unclear. The City hired Salmon in July of 2001 to
help broker meetings between Phoenix officials and congresspersons; especially, according
to Pastor, in order to “bring the Republicans on board for light rail.181” Salmon would also
set-up meetings between business groups, like the Greater Phoenix Chamber of Commerce,
and congresspersons. He also brought influential congresspersons out to Phoenix: in 2002,
he hosted House Whip Tom DeLay on a trip to Phoenix.182 Salmon, who had just recently
retired from congress in 2000, was legally prohibited from functioning as a lobbyist
because of federal “cooling off” rules that ban congresspersons from immediately lobbying
Transportation to the United States Congress (Washington: Federal Transit Administration, 2003). Table 2.
181 Tom Zoellner, "Salmon is Paid Lobbyist for Light Rail," The Arizona Republic, September 18, 2002: A1.
182 Richard Ruelas, "Salmon Never Did Lobby for Phoenix's Interests," The Arizona Republic, October 9, 2002: 1.
their former colleagues. In essence, his work stopped short of asking representatives and
senators for their votes. Ultimately, it remains unclear what Salmon delivered to Phoenix
by the time he pulled out of his contract for Phoenix in late 2002. While Phoenix had
received $9 million in FY2002, the picture for the FY2003 budget remained far more
precarious.
The City of Phoenix would make more dramatic attempts to secure funding for light
rail as the debate over the FY2003 budget dragged on past the normal Oct. 1 deadline. In
part, Phoenix’s problems were that TEA-21 funding as a whole was jeopardized by the
sagging economy and the distraction of homeland security concerns.183 Still more obstacles
were the product of sagging support for light rail in the delegation, according to
observers.184 While John Shadegg had reaffirmed his support for the project and worked
with Pastor on an earmark, Sen. Kyl on the Senate’s powerful Appropriations Committee
would dial down his support for the project.185 By early 2003, Phoenix’s federal lobbyist
John O’Donnell had apparently stopped meeting with the state’s senators. Sen. Kyl had not
negotiated any share for Phoenix in the FY2003 budget, preferring to let the funding in the
House version (championed by Rep. Pastor) be negotiated into the final version.186 Because
negotiators in conference committee often determine funding by choosing the mid-point
between House and Senate versions, without any appropriation in the Senate version,
Phoenix’s project could receive much less money in the upcoming budget. Reacting to the
dearth of support from the state’s senators, Mayor Skip Rimsza would became the
champion of the strategy to gain traction for the project in the Senate. The moderate
183 Elvia Diaz, "Lawmakers' Skepticism Jeopardizes Light Rail," The Arizona Republic, January 24, 2002: A1.
184 Tom Zoellner, "Salmon is Paid Lobbyist for Light Rail," The Arizona Republic, September 18, 2002: A1.
185 The Arizona Republic, "Light Rail on Shaky Ground," September 10, 2002: A1.
186 The Arizona Republic, "Light Rail Alignment, Funding Hinge on Local, Federal Votes," August 7, 2002: B3.
Republican Rimsza hosted a fundraiser for Democratic Senator Patty Murray of
Washington in early 2003 in hopes of securing funding for the project in the Senate
Appropriations committee that she chaired. Ultimately, the Senate would deliver none.
While the House version gave Phoenix $18 million of the $80 million it requested (one of
four projects without an FFGA to get anything at all) Phoenix would ultimately come away
with $12 million.187 According to Pastor, this amount was in part due to his, Rep. J.D.
Hayworth, and Rep. Shadegg’s work to convince budget negotiators of the merits of the
House version.
Pastor’s presence in the House Appropriations Transportation Subcommittee
appeared to be vital in the FY2004 and FY2005 budget cycles. While Phoenix had again
requested the near astronomical sum of $80 million for an earmark, Pastor remained
confident that Phoenix would receive a substantial amount because the project had
proceeded to the final design stage.188 Indeed, while the project received $13 million, little
more the prior year, from both the House Appropriations Committee budget and the full
House, it would receive just a little bit less in the conference committee version at $12.79
million. As the city prepared to sign a FFGA with the FTA in early 2005, the FY2005 budget
for light rail funding looked promising. The budget submitted by President Bush would
already include $75 million for the project—far beyond what the project had already
received, and in likely anticipation of a soon to be signed FFGA agreement.189 The mayors
of Phoenix, Tempe, and Mesa would all travel to Washington D.C. to secure this amount in
each chamber’s proposed budget. Moreover, Phoenix and Pastor increased the pressure on
Annual Report on New Starts Proposed Allocations of Funds for Fiscal Year 2005, Report of the Secretary of Transportation
to the United States Congress (Washington: Federal Transit Administration, 2005). Table 2.
188 Marty Sauerzopf, "Overloaded Valley List of Transit Plans OK'd," The Arizona Republic, July 23, 2003: A1.
189 Bob Golfen, "Bush Tabs $75 million for Valley Light Rail," The Arizona Republic, February 4, 2004: B8.
Senators from other states in order to compliment Pastor’s work in the house and make up
for the dearth of support from Arizona’s senators. Rep. Pastor helped bring Rep. Ernest
Istook, Chair of the House Appropriations Transportation Subcommittee, and Senator
Richard Shelby, Chair of the Senate Appropriations Committee, to meet with Mayor Skip
Rimsza and other local officials in May of 2004.190 The two congressmen would be key
votes to shepherd Phoenix’s light rail funds through conference committee, where in
previous years the more generous House earmarks for rail had eroded.191 Rep. Istook
would also fill his campaign coffers at a fundraiser during his short stay, much like Senator
Murray of Washington when she visited Phoenix on Mayor Rimsza’s invitation.192
By FY2005, the City of Phoenix would have to hold its breath no longer about
whether the project would be seen through to conclusion. In January 25, 2005, FTA
Administrator Jennifer Dorn would sign the Full Funding Grant Agreement with RPTA. The
FFGA also came with provisions awarding funds to Phoenix for work done up to this point.
Due to cost increases, Phoenix’s share of the project costs neared 60%.193 Given this, it is
not entirely clear what contribution the tremendous effort to secure earmarks supporting
the project from FY98 to FY2004 made, which constituted just $58 million of the federal
government’s $587.2 million share of the $1.4 billion project. 194
190 The Arizona Republic, "Mayor's Juggling Act- Our Stand," May 10, 2004: B6.
The Arizona Republic, "Tenure and Experience; Our Stand: Ed Pastor Brings Both to District 4, Plus a Worthy Record,"
October 28, 2004: B6.
191 The Arizona Republic, "On Track; Our Stand; Light Rail Has Its Down Payment, and It's Time to Board," December 2,
2004: B6.
192 The Arizona Republic, "Mayor's Juggling Act- Our Stand," May 10, 2004: B6.
194 Ibid.
Neil Manske, "Central Phoenix/East Valley Major Investment Study," City Council Report, Public Transit Department
(Phoenix, August 20, 1998), 14-17.
Negative pluralism, as a whole, also has relatively little to say about this component
of bringing light rail to Phoenix. Moving earmarks through Congress, while apparently
quite important, occurred with relatively little input from the major interests in the
negative pluralism framework. As far as was disclosed by newspaper sources, the business
support coalition that had shepherded light rail forth thus far played a smaller role here.
Moreover, the City of Phoenix appeared relatively weak, being unable to retain the support
of Sen. Kyl for the project and not showing a clear ability to sway the support of Senators
and Congresspersons from other states. Moreover, pluralist constraints appeared to have
little influence on the projects’ earmarks; while resistance from the Arizona State
University Tempe Campus to the rail’s impacts slowed down the EIS approval and delayed
the project as a whole, there was otherwise little pressure from defensive use value
interests on Congress. Still, the ideologically anti-tax groups that had been strong
opponents of the light rail system in the 1997 and 2000 elections did not materialize to
protest the earmarks given for the project in Congress in an attempt to stop the project.
Despite the fact that, on the surface, the negative pluralism framework appears not
to apply in this narrow focus, I will continue to evaluate the hypotheses to see if these
circumstances might suggest reformulations.
value groups].”
While business groups played only a small role in earning earmarks for the Phoenix
light rail project, it is important to note that in negative pluralism, their forte is organizing
broader support for a project, and not necessarily attracting support from specific
individuals. Granted, the Chamber of Commerce and businesspersons organized by GPEC
did meet with Arizona’s congressional delegation, and may have had some influence in
boosting Rep. Hayworth and Rep. Shadegg’s support for the project. However, the primary
person who helped build support for the project in Congress was Representative Pastor.
Business’ role in gaining his support seems limited, given that Pastor was already a large
supporter of public transit and that most of his campaign funds came from union, rather
than corporate, sources. Regarding the ability to derail proposals, defensive “use value”
groups played little role in impacting the negotiations needed to get earmarks for projects
like the Phoenix light rail. In sum, there is minor evidence to support this hypothesis,
although this chapter reinforces the relative impotency of use value groups seen earlier.
Representative Pastor and Phoenix Mayors Rimsza and Gordon clearly took the lead
lobbying Arizona’s congressional delegation to support the light rail project. In a sense, the
work of these public entrepreneurs matches the pattern of “mobilizing and then nurturing”
of business support coalitions in the negative pluralism framework. Though Rep. Pastor
was the visible force backing the earmarked funds in the House Appropriations committee
and beyond, underlying that effort was certainly the entrepreneurship of the Phoenix
mayor. The City of Phoenix prepared the yearly multimillion-dollar requests for funding
and though intermediaries like Salmon and Rep. Pastor, attempted to reach other
Congressmen to broaden support for the project. While that effort may have failed, the City
appeared to have already the help of one congressman, Rep. Pastor, whose support truly
mattered. Some potential counterevidence arises here: it is not entirely clear that the City
of Phoenix took the lead in “mobilizing and then nurturing” the support of Rep. Pastor. That
may have fallen to the transportation workers unions who are major backers of Rep.
Pastor, and had much to gain from a project that would expand the number of union jobs in
the area.195
Regardless of remaining uncertainty about the evidence, I find that with
congressional earmarks, city governments are instrumental in laying the groundwork for
the request, which then drives the actions of congresspersons. However, a city’s power to
organize congressional supporters can be especially constrained if, as in Arizona, the state’s
delegation is small, leaving little room for a city to maneuver around congresspersons
opposed to a project.
Given the requirements for applying for a full funding grant agreement, business
groups were by definition excluded from advancing a plan of their own ahead of the public
sector. More generally, business elites could support a general program of infrastructure
development like TEA-21 or ISTEA, but would be unable to advance specific mega-projects
beyond that. The events depicted in this chapter give moderate support to this hypothesis,
195Ed Pastor: Campaign Finance/Money - Top Donors, March 21, 2010,

http://www.opensecrets.org/politicians/contrib.php?cycle=2010&cid=N00006397&type=I (last accessed March 31,
2010).
though the institutional requirements for the exercise of power that business groups are
legally excluded from have been addressed several times earlier.
While business groups played a lesser role lobbying at the nation’s capitol, their
meetings there did confirm an important principle in congressional politics. Namely, that
congresspersons will avoid supporting a mega-project if it is possible they will become
embroiled in a local controversy. While the meetings with congresspersons held by the
Chamber of Commerce and GPEC-organized businesses did not entail the years upon years
of full court press that the city undertook, it clearly set the stage in an important way for
Republican congresspersons.
Historically, the federal requirement that planners prepare an Environmental
Impact Statement has been an opportunity for local “use value” interest groups to insert
themselves in this process. Beyond a notable case in Tempe not discussed here, no “use
value” interest group in the City of Phoenix raised claims that delayed the FTA’s approval of
RPTA’s EIS. Moreover, the nature of the debate in congress—how soon and how much to
fund the Phoenix light rail— would have little effect on these local groups. In sum, there is
little evidence to falsify or support this hypothesis here.

TIMMERMAN RECONSIDERING NEGATIVE PLURALISM 88
Chapter 9
Reconsidering Negative Pluralism
Just over twelve years after Valley cities proposed a fixed guideway transit corridor,
METRO light rail would finally make its first run down tracks connecting Phoenix, Tempe,
and Mesa. Over that time period, the considerable number of political maneuvers by public
officials, business supporters, and pluralistic use value constraints provide ample
opportunity to study the framework of negative pluralism proposed by Altshuler and
Luberoff. As analysis in earlier chapters has already shown, there are substantial grounds
with which to question the merits of that framework. Below, I reconsider the negative
pluralism hypotheses collectively.
value groups].”
While Altshuler and Luberoff pegged the potential to derail proposals on defensive
use value groups, in Phoenix, those groups were only a small threat to the light rail project.
Instead, the light rail concept never seemed more imperiled than after the 1997 election.
The largest sources of opposition during the 1997 and 2000 transit campaigns were
politicians and unorganized voters, who either questioned the merits of the proposal or
were ideologically opposed to a tax increase.
Though Mega-projects did note other instances where voters rejected transit
projects, the reliance on Molotch’s “use value” groups to characterize pluralist constraints
in negative pluralism likely rendered this hypothesis quite mistaken. After all, “use value”
groups are predicated on having little organizing ability to resist development policies
pushed by “exchange value” interests, except when directly threatened. However, even
without a well-organized opposition, the 1997 transit tax failed. This may be because
voters with anti-tax sentiment or who questioned the transit proposals merits need not
have organized and lobbied city government to resist a development proposal; they could
simply vote no. Indeed, after the 1997 election, it was still unclear why a bare majority of
voters had rejected the plan. Thus, general ideological resistance to taxes and transit’s
merits, rather than use value groups threatened by impacts, characterized the resistance to
light rail.
Although the opposition in 1997 may not have been well organized, there certainly
were leaders of the resistance. Politicians including Phoenix Councilman Sal DiCiccio and
two of Governor Symington’s appointees made public denunciations of the merits of
Phoenix’s transit plan. In a campaign post-mortem, the Arizona Republic identified this
resistance by public officials as potential reasons that the tax failed. That rationale seems
plausible only if resistance to the plan was ideological, since the state agency heads
represented no clear constituency and DiCiccio only represents one district out of eight.
The still murky nature of this kind of opposition to transit referendums is worthy of further
study. Altshuler and Luberoff admit that they “did not focus on the internal dynamics of
opposition groups” in their research, but that might have been necessary given the
particularly high rate of failure for transit referenda.196
Even after defeats at the ballot box, however, private support coalitions have shown
a remarkable ability to reorganize and win future elections. In the Phoenix case, these
coalitions indeed had a “near-monopoly in organizing support” during the two elections at
issue, though beyond the two campaigns their influence was not entirely clear. In 1997 and
2000, businesses—which appeared to represent the vast majority of the City of Phoenix’s
coalitions—funded the “Yes” campaigns. When Congressional earmarks were needed and
planning controversies needed to be resolved, however, business was far in the
background. This may indicate that “organizing support” for a mega-project is predicated
more on selling the concept as a whole than resolving specific grievances that were
unlikely to mount an existential challenge to the project.
Fundamentally, it appears that Altshuler and Luberoff wrongly assessed the nature
of constraints on mega-projects. Regarding the political participation of typical citizens,
they write, “The more interesting question is whether they can protect their “use value”
interests in the face of threats emanating from the public and business sectors. And we
believe this is the only aspect of local development policy that most residents care much
about.197” Though the election analysis here is only basic, the significant numbers of
ideologically anti-tax and anti-transit voters in 1997 and 2000 indicate that this may not
the case.
197 Ibid. P. 261

Although the City of Phoenix’s Council-Manager form of government gives the
mayor relatively insubstantial formal powers, as the only member of the council elected at
large, the mayor has bully pulpit to set the direction of policies affecting the city as a
whole.198 Grady Gammage Jr., a land use attorney well known in Phoenix politics, affirmed
the mayor’s importance in setting the direction of city policy: “If we had a mayor who was
vigorously opposed to mass transit, would we have transit being built? Probably not."199
Negative pluralism asserts that mayors not only must take the lead in developing plans, but
also “mobilizing and then nurturing the private support coalitions on which their efforts
ultimately depend.”200 Rimsza clearly displayed this kind of public entrepreneurship as he
took the lead soliciting financial and political support from the business community for the
2000 transit election; his increased presence supporting the campaign appeared to
distinguish the 2000 proposition’s success from the city’s failure in 1997.
Altshuler and Luberoff situate public sector leadership primarily in the political
executive, and the Phoenix case study reinforces that conclusion.201 Still, Rimsza’s ability to
drive the project forward was more circumscribed while seeking federal funding and
designing the system. Rimsza lobbied congresspersons from Arizona’s delegation and from
across the country to secure earmarks for the project, though Representative Ed Pastor’s
efforts may have been more successful. When Rimsza’s personal efforts to lobby Senator
Kyl and Senator Patty Murray of Washington for their support failed to produce dividends,
it was Pastor’s presence on the House Appropriations Transportation Subcommittee that
198 Mary Jo Pitzl, "East, West Cities Watch Race for Phoenix Mayor," The Arizona Republic, September 7, 2003: B1.
199 Ibid.


brought in generous earmarks for the project. Certainly, however, Phoenix’s congressional
affairs reflected bottom-up federalism, with the City of Phoenix proposing the project that
Rep. Pastor would later support. In one exception, Pastor did appear to have some direct
influence on the project itself. His interest in a direct rail connection to Sky Harbor
terminals forced Rimsza, who had been noncommittal about an alignment, to reconsider
Goddard’s proposal. Even where other public officials did appear to take the lead on the
project, it appears they did so largely at the behest of Rimsza. For instance, while
Councilwoman Bilsten, Chair of the Council’s Transportation Subcommittee, chaired the
committee that drafted the 2000 proposal, this was clearly a case of Rimsza delegating to
her that authority. While Martin Shultz of APS states, “in the development of public policy,
success has many fathers and mothers,” with the minor exception of Representative Pastor,
Mayor Rimsza did appear to be the driver of the project’s success.202
Even during a period when commentators like Republic columnist Jon Talton
bemoaned the decline of the Phoenix’s old downtown elite, business leaders have still
shown a remarkable capacity to initiate development proposals. Beyond simply
incentivizing public officials to pursue the growth machine agenda, business leaders were
active in pushing their own proposals on the public sector. When the Central Phoenix/East
Valley Major Investment Study was still underway, developers of the aborted Rio Salado
Project, a stadium and shopping complex near the Mesa-Tempe border, even convinced
202Martin Shultz (Vice President of Government Affairs, Pinnacle West Capital Corporation), Interview by Wylie
Timmerman, February 23, 2010.
planners to tentatively include a spur off of the Tempe route to their speculative
development. Martin Shultz of APS pushed running commuter rail from downtown Phoenix
to APS’ Palo Verde generating station to serve APS’ two thousand workers there. Shultz
was also behind a planned commuter rail demonstration sponsored by downtown
businesses in 1997, an idea that was later adopted by Diamondbacks-owner Jerry
Colangelo to shuttle baseball fans to Bank One Ballpark. The fact that business leaders and
groups lacked access to the public sector’s institutional planning resources was of
surprisingly little consequence.
These were only the business proposals that received coverage in the Arizona
Republic; given the pluralist bias of these research methods, it seems highly possible that
business covertly exercised even more influence over the process. Indeed, Martin Shultz
stated that he was involved in all stages of the light rail’s development, from planning to the
renewal of the Maricopa County quarter-cent sales tax to fund the system’s planned
extensions.203 Of course, as noted in discussion of the first hypothesis, in general business
leaders relied on public entrepreneurs to marshal city resources to plan and design the
light rail project. Still, business’ role appears to be far more than simply a support coalition
in the Phoenix case.
4. A private support coalition is indispensible to the progress of a mega-project.
As Altshuler and Luberoff indicate is often the case, business groups formed the core
of the City of Phoenix’s support coalition for the light rail project. Their influence did
appear to help spur the project along, from significant funding contribution for the transit
203Martin Shultz (Vice President of Government Affairs, Pinnacle West Capital Corporation), Interview by Wylie
Timmerman, February 23, 2010.
tax campaigns, to lobbying Arizona’s congressional delegation, to lending aid to planners’
outreach efforts. This hypothesis was strongly supported.
While light rail has relatively small impacts relative to other mega-projects like
freeways and airport expansions, the consequences of construction and operation were of
great concern to local businesses and residents adjacent to the line. As planners considered
project impacts during the preliminary engineering phase, the requests of these local use
value groups were clearly heard. As detailed in Chapter Six, new amenities and stations
were installed per neighborhood and business request, and mobility improvements for
motorists were also added.
As noted earlier, these use value groups were far from the only constraint on the
light rail project; more unorganized interests still received positive benefits for support of
the light rail, however. The changes to the transit tax proposal between 1997 and 2000 are
instructive on this point: Ahwatukee residents saw more representation in the drafting
committee and benefits from the final project; motorists received additional road
improvements. Though there was significant opposition to light rail’s inclusion in the 1997
proposal, the increased track mileage in the 2000 proposal may have actually secured more
votes: in 1996 surveys, voters were attracted to the idea of “getting something new” for the
additional tax. These complicated referendum campaign dynamics were covered poorly in
Mega-projects, and deserve closer investigation in the future.

Cumulatively, electoral competition and business initiative were two areas where
Altshuler and Luberoff’s hypotheses were clearly violated; yet, further afield from these
hypotheses are more indicators that negative pluralism does not explain the Phoenix case.
Altshuler and Luberoff write, “The federal aid programs examined in this book were all
distinguished more by their openness to local initiative than by their sharp definition of
national purpose.” In sum, “every project examined in this book was initiated by
subnational officials and interest groups.204” While the Phoenix light rail project was
certainly planned and designed at the local level, at crucial junctions federal incentives
pushed the project along. For instance, Congress’ consideration of a new transportation
spending bill in 1997 spurred Phoenix to begin planning for a new rail corridor in 1996 in
order to be eligible for federal funding. Moreover, in the wake of the 1997 transit
referendum failure, the City of Phoenix soon found congresspersons reluctant to continue
seeking earmarks for the project without a local funding source in place; thus, Phoenix
made a second, successful attempt at a transit tax 2000. These more political influences
from the federal government appeared to have much more bearing on Phoenix’s project
than “Do No Harm” constraints.
Looking forward, the debate over Proposition 400 in 2004, which would provide
funding for 30 miles of extensions to the system, is a further source of data that may falsify
the negative pluralism hypothesis. In that case, intermunicipal competition over the
contents of a combined freeway, streets, and transit tax referendum, coupled with the need
for approval by the state legislature, add degrees of complexity to the patterns of initiative,
support and constraint that negative pluralism does not address. These institutional
constraints and incentives from the state and federal level, as well as business initiative
and electoral competition mentioned earlier, do not appear to be temporary artifacts of a
new “era” of mega-projects; rather, it appears that Altshuler and Luberoff’s framework of
negative pluralism simply does not address additional and significant sources of
constraints on light rail mega-projects.

Negative Pluralism and The Politics of Light Rail Transit in Phoenix

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Negative Pluralism and the Politics of Light Rail Transit in Phoenix

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approximately three-quarters of ballot initiatives to finance transit or rail projects through

not support mass transit well.2

Phoenix project against a framework of political power in urban infrastructure investments

Luberoff’s work is significant in that it collectively addresses major infrastructure projects

development policies pursued at the local level, mega-projects require “special

levels of government.4” Thus, in contrast to other policies with development objectives,

urban rail: can be politically controversial as an unconventional project; is subject to

development incentives; and lastly, grants specific benefits to stakeholders.5 Their

claims about the politics of these mega-projects dramatically.

conclusions reached in Mega-projects based on a survey of diverse projects nationwide

have bearing on a more detailed case study of one project.

The methodology for this work is inspired by earlier analyses of transportation

presents a few general hypotheses of negative pluralism in this literature and, in

to support those hypotheses. First, however, Altshuler and Luberoff’s summary of

historical-institutional current running through it. Second, I introduce theories of local

significant topic of controversy for studies evaluating theories of local decision-making.

Historical Context of Phoenix Metro Light Rail

rail as a “Mega-project.” Unlike other local development projects, mega-projects require

were suspended.10” In “The Era of Transition,” however, the destruction of neighborhoods

these projects are attempted in more politically conservative Sunbelt states. 13

Theories of Political Power

sector of public affairs—Dahl’s original study covered education policy, political

consciously or unconsciously—creates or reinforces barriers to the public airing of policy

to the discussion of decision-making power, they add a significant degree of uncertainty to

are suppressed in “non-decisions” is seemingly unlimited.19 Moreover, it is not entirely

by an exercise of power—actually lie.

no. 2 (June 1983): 479-480.

since any biases in research methodology are in the pluralist direction.21”

to the heavy-handed projects of “The Great Mega-Project Era” (namely stricter

environmental regulations, legal restraints, fewer federal dollars, and pressure or

in local decision-making. Thus, for this analysis, I turn to a different framework of

understanding decision-making tentatively identified by Altshuler and Luberoff.

making in Mega-Projects: The Changing Politics of Urban Investment, they do categorize

power in mega-project decision-making more tentatively as a pattern they call “negative

field in the last several decades.

Negative pluralism is characterized by its patterns of initiative, support, and

business has a near-monopoly in organizing support for development proposals, the

potential to derail proposals is far more diffused. Neighborhood, environmental, ethnic,

main components of negative pluralism—public entrepreneurship, business elite support,

and pluralist constraints— are considered in detail.

Sheldon Edner’s Transportation Decisionmaking in Portland, a Federal Transit

Administration report, also reflect an entrepreneurial role by public officials.25 In the

former Massachusetts Secretary of Transportation Fred Salvucci as a public entrepreneur

languished without a strong sponsor or championed ideas formed in the bureaucracy or by

completely independent of influence. The subtext of the relationship between public

sector, support by the business community for infrastructure investments is rarely

sufficient to push a mega-project concept forward.

role of entrepreneur is practically a requirement when procuring funding through either

for mega-projects in order to avoid being embroiled in a local controversy.29 As a result,

as the guardian of public-interest issues such as protection of the environment, ensuring

public entrepreneur, rather than guardian of the public interest.

Cambridge University Press, 2003). Pg. 138

order to “thrive politically and create a record of accomplishment.31” In this sense,

public officials, the consequence of ignoring business interests is to be “pilloried in the

media, short of allies and funds, and driven from office.33”

D.C.: The Brookings Institution, 2003). Pg. 284

Business is also no longer monolithic in its support of mega-project proposals.

shrunk.37 Moreover, corporations increasingly headquartered in suburbs are likely to have

Cambridge University Press, 2003). Pg. 46

The heritage of the constraint groups in negative pluralism is deeply rooted in