New Geography

Tag: Florida

  • Daschle And State-by-State Healthcare Mistakes

    Tom Daschle appears before the Senate this week for confirmation as Secretary of Health and Human Services. While Daschle knows his stuff on health care (see his book, Critical: What We Can Do About the Health-Care Crisis), the discussion is likely to be sidetracked by those who champion a reliance on insurance companies, or on piecemeal reform starting with children. Or, as I’ll discuss here, on a wrong-headed impulse to depend on the states to create new health care models.

    Justice Louis Brandeis famously said, “It is one of the happy incidents of the federal system that a single courageous state may, if its citizens choose, serve as a laboratory; and try novel social and economic experiments without risk to the rest of the country.”

    Brandeis’ elegant language has been distilled to the phrase, “laboratories of democracy,” and used as if that’s a good thing. However, the converse also holds: bad ideas can be legislated at the state level and spread nationwide. One idea that continues to threaten to boil over the boundaries of a single state is “universal health insurance” achieved one state at a time. Oregon, Tennessee, California, and most famously Massachusetts have all experimented with versions, and other states have tried variations, particularly with children.

    I’ll get to the more general notion of why I think states can’t go it alone. But for now, I’ll give a quick rundown on how states have tried and failed.

    Critical Mass: Despite recent claims of a 97-percent coverage rate, Commonwealth Care, the Massachusetts plan, is struggling. You remember the Massachusetts plan: Mitt Romney was for it as governor before he was against it as a presidential candidate.

    The plan is a patchwork of good intentions, political and practical exceptions, and as-yet deferred but heavy-handed enforcement. There’s an appeals system, waivers, and “creditability” (this has to do with the comprehensiveness of the policy and the out-of-network charges).

    The crux of the Massachusetts law is a model of administrative clarity. The goal of insuring the uninsured was to be achieved in a couple of ways. One was that if health insurance was “offered by” an employer, the employee had to take it.

    The problem is that “offered by” the employer isn’t a clean standard. Employers might have an insurance plan that’s technically available to employees, but it might be too expensive for them, or for their families. To square this circle, Massachusetts subsidized employment-based coverage if it cost more than a certain percent of the person’s income, and raised the eligibility limits for public insurance. Those without employers were required to buy private insurance, and insurers were regulated to make the policies “affordable.”

    And then there are the penalties: “To enforce the mandate, [Massachusetts will] establish state income tax penalties for adults who do not purchase affordable health insurance….”

    These stipulations raise obvious questions. What is “affordable”? Will residents be penalized for buying a policy too expensive for their family budget? Will insurance companies be punished for selling them such policies (do I hear the words “sub-prime mortgage”?). Will premium arrearages be counted as medical debt in bankruptcy court?

    Alan Sager and Deborah Socolar, directors of the Health Reform Program at the Boston University School of Public Health, damned the Massachusetts legislation with faint praise in the Boston Globe last July: “the best law that could be passed.”

    Calling it “a blessing to 350,000 newly insured people,” they pointed out that a similar number remained uninsured, and that the law often “can’t work” largely for reasons of cost. The mandates, they said, required huge subsidies, boosted payments to providers without controls, and redistributed funds committed to the most vulnerable.

    Not surprisingly, by summer 2008, the lousy economy had begun to take its toll. To shore up the “coverage” rate, Massachusetts has reduced funding to safety-net hospitals, and has even cut millions of dollars from subsidized immunization programs. Patients wait six months for a physical.

    With no plan for reducing medical costs, the state is effectively obligated to bankrupt itself.

    The Oregon Lucky Number:

    Oregon in March – for the first time in more than three years – will begin accepting new beneficiaries in its Oregon Health Plan […] The state will use a lottery system to enroll 2,000 eligible applicants per month for 11 months. Kaisernetwork.org, Jan. 10, 2008

    The Oregon plan had lost two-thirds of its participants since freezing enrollment in 2004 and a lottery was deemed to be the fairest way to apportion openings.

    Government lotteries have been used for everything from real estate in tax foreclosure to placement in magnet schools or, showing my age, the chance to serve in Vietnam.

    Still, why should anyone have to depend on a lucky number to be treated for diabetes or cancer without going broke? If the plan is funded for 32,000 participants out of a total of 100,000 eligible residents, why didn’t they keep topping up as the numbers diminished? Or was there a theoretical break-even point somewhere?

    California Pipe Dream: In early 2007, Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger announced a $14 billion program that supposedly mirrored the Massachusetts plan. The plan would have extended Medi-Cal, the state’s Medicaid program, to adults earning up to twice the federal poverty line, and to children, regardless of immigration status, who lived in homes with family incomes up to 300 percent above – about $60,000 a year for a family of four.

    One controversial element called for employers without health plans to contribute to a fund to help cover the working uninsured. Doctors were to pay two percent and hospitals four percent of their revenues to help cover higher reimbursements for those who treat patients enrolled in Medi-Cal.

    The ambitious program died in committee a year later, with legislators from both parties agreeing that it was unaffordable.

    Florida No Frills: A 2008 Florida package would allow insurers to offer “no-frills coverage to the state’s 3.8 million uninsured” residents. Residents ages 19 to 64 could purchase limited health coverage for as little as $150 per month; the policies would cover preventive care and office visits, but not care from specialists or long-term hospitalizations.

    “No frills” works better in airline travel than in health care. You can do without hot meals and pay extra for a headset or a Bloody Mary, but what Floridians will ultimately get for their $1800 a year and up are office visits and preventive care. It would probably be cheaper served à la carte and paid for in cash.

    Hawaii’s Keiki Care In October, 2008, Hawaii dissolved the only state universal child health care program in the nation after only seven months. Dr. Kenny Fink, the administrator at the Department of Human Services, told a reporter, “People who were already able to afford health care began to stop paying for it so they could get it for free. I don’t believe that was the intent of the program.”

    I should say not, but this disconnect between the intent of the program and its result makes perfect sense. Consumer behavior is supposed to be based on rational choices, and those parents who switched seem pretty rational. Hawaii’s solution seems simple and elegant, until you apply some basic laws of economics and behavior. Aloha, Keiki Care.

    Why States Can’t Do It Alone

    Why haven’t any of these state “universal health care” plans succeeded? Probably for the same reason that states can’t be self-sufficient in fossil fuels, or in banking. Most don’t produce their own fuels, and those that do can’t require their use within the state. They don’t print their own currencies. They have to compete with the rest of the world, public sector and private, for energy and capital.

    These are not minor issues with localized consequences. The decision-making alone requires resources that might not be available at the state level. We need national bodies to determine standards, to evaluate technology, and – remembering that Medicaid, Medicare, the VA, and the government employee system amount to around half of health care spending – to decide on the appropriate use of federal dollars.

    A final thought: Each additional set of rules, level of supervision, and geographic boundary may make sense initially. But when the lines drawn become indelible, and the bureaucracies created to enforce them calcify, we move further from the goal of providing health care. Jobs, and their budgets, become ends in themselves. We have to return to our original purpose and ask, “How can we get there?” One thing you can be sure of: it won’t be one state at a time. When it comes to health care, we need more unum and less e pluribus.

    Georganne Chapin is President and CEO of Hudson Health Plan, a not-for-profit Medicaid managed care organization, and the Hudson Center for Health Equity & Quality, an independent not-for-profit that promotes universal access and quality in health care through streamlining. Both organizations are based in Tarrytown, New York.

    Tom Daschle photo by: aaronmentele

  • Moving to Flyover Country

    As the international financial crisis and the US economy have worsened, there have been various reports about more people “staying put,” not moving from one part of the country to another. There is some truth in this, but the latest US Bureau of the Census estimates indicate the people are still moving, and in big numbers.

    In the year ended June 30, 2008, 670,000 people moved between states. This is down substantially from the peak years of 2005 to 2007, when housing prices in California and its suburbs of Nevada and Arizona, Florida, the Northeast and the Northwest reached record heights never seen before. In those years, people could elicit considerable and unprecedented financial gain by moving to parts of the country where the housing bubble had not visited or had done less damage. A household could buy in Indianapolis, Dallas-Fort Worth or Atlanta and save more than $1,000,000 in purchase price and mortgage payments compared to a comparable house in San Diego, Los Angeles or the San Francisco Bay area. In 2006, net domestic migration between states peaked at 1,200,000.

    Still, despite the reduction from the most extreme bubble years, last year’s interstate migration numbers still exceeded those of 2001, 2002 and 2003 and nearly equaled 2004. Lost in the discussions of the decline has been the continuation of a seemingly inexorable secular trend: the continued migration to the “Flyover County” that many of the coastal urban elites tend to dismiss as insignificant and even unlivable. What residents of Elitia reject, millions are embracing.

    Can 3,500,000 Movers be Wrong? The new data shows a strong trend of domestic migration to Flyover Country. Between 2000 and 2008, 3,500,000 residents moved to Flyover Country. This is roughly equal to the movement of the entire population of the City of Los Angeles. Moreover, the trend has been accelerating. In the last four years, the number of people relative to the population leaving Elitia’s promised lands has increased by 60 percent.

    The Lost Empire: New York has lost residents at a rate exceeding that of any other state or the District of Columbia. Not even the destructive winds of Katrina and Rita, the malfeasance of the Army Corps of Engineers or even mis-governance – from Washington to Baton Rouge and New Orleans itself – could drive people out as effectively as the Empire State. New York has lost 1,575,000 domestic migrants since 2000, nearly equal to the population of Manhattan.

    New York’s net domestic migration loss is equal to 8.1 percent of its 2000 population, compared to Louisiana’s 7.1 percent loss. New York has even outdone that perpetual exporter of residents, the District of Columbia, which lost a mere 7.6 percent through domestic migration.

    From Golden State to Fool’s Gold State: Then there is California, which has added more people over the past 50 years than live in Australia. How things have changed. Early in the decade, the Golden State was suffering somewhat modest domestic migration losses. But by 2005, with house prices escalating wildly relative to incomes, California won the race to the bottom. Each year since then, California has driven away more people than any other state.

    What’s Right with Pennsylvania: There are anomalies, however. One of the leading parlor games is “what’s wrong with Pennsylvania” stories. From the Philadelphia Inquirer to Washington’s Brookings Institution, there has probably been more hand wringing about Pennsylvania than about all other states combined. Yet things have changed materially, and largely for the better. Although Pennsylvania continues to lose domestic migrants, the rate has been far less than elsewhere in the Northeast. Between 2000 and 2008, Pennsylvania lost less than 50,000 domestic migrants. Its neighboring states – New York, New Jersey, Maryland and Ohio (Delaware and West Virginia have had small gains) – have lost more than 2,300,000 domestic migrants or nearly 50 domestic migrants for every one leaving Pennsylvania. Among states with more than 10,000,000 population, only Florida and Texas have done better in domestic migration than Pennsylvania.

    That’s pretty good company for a state so many have declared to be on life support. Indeed, it is time to ask “what’s right about Pennsylvania?” One answer might be that Pennsylvania home prices did not explode relative to incomes (a distortion avoided because of Pennsylvania’s generally more liberal land use regulations). The American Dream – at least for those who are aspiring to achieve it – has shifted from New York, New Jersey and Maryland to Pennsylvania. This is evident from the housing construction on the west bank of the Delaware River and just over the Maryland line in York, Adams and Franklin counties.

    Florida: A Changing Story: Flyover Country’s gains are impressive. Florida has attracted the largest number of residents from other states, at 1,250,000 since 2000. This amounts to a 7.6 percent increase compared to the state’s 2000 population. However, things are changing. As the state’s housing became unaffordable, domestic migration dropped and then stopped. By 2007, domestic migration fell more than 80 percent from average of earlier years. Then, Florida slipped into a loss of 9,000 domestic migrants in 2008.

    Southern Gains: The rest of the South generally avoided the worst of the housing bubble. Texas has added 700,000 domestic migrants since 2000. The state displaced Florida as the leading destination for domestic migrants and has held that position since 2006. North Carolina has added 580,000 domestic migrants; Georgia added 525,000, South Carolina 270,000 and Tennessee 240,000. Even Arkansas and Alabama, although held in low esteem on the coasts, gained more domestic migrants than any state in the Northeast.

    Escaping from California: Nevada has been a big draw for domestic migration, adding 365,000 new residents. This is 18.3 percent of its 2000 population, the highest rate in the nation. Arizona added 700,000, or 13.7 percent of its population. Much of this growth has been driven by Californians fleeing out of control housing prices, though their own more recently developing bubbles have probably contributed to somewhat reduced domestic migration gains In recent years.

    Basket Cases in Flyover Country: However, not all is well in Flyover Country. Michigan lost 109,000 residents to other states in 2008 alone, for the deepest percentage loss in the nation (1.1 percent). Since 2000, Michigan experienced a 4.7 percent domestic migration loss, equal to the decline in Massachusetts. Further, based upon current rates, Michigan next year will probably be the first state to ever drop from above to below 10,000,000 residents. Illinois and Ohio have also suffered substantial domestic migration losses, at 4.6 percent and 3.0 percent respectively.

    Where from Here? It is, of course, impossible to tell whether these trends will continue. Domestic migration could fall even more precipitously if economic times continue to worsen.

    We cannot predict whether seemingly unlikely trends, such as net in-migration to South Dakota and West Virginia, will continue in the longer run. Will Florida’s losses continue or intensify, or will it resume its position as a magnet for residents of other states? Has the magnet of California truly lost its attraction? Will the improving trends in the Midwest begin to make up for half a century of migration losses? Only time will tell.

    Resource: State Population & Migration: 2000-2008 (http://www.demographia.com/db-statemigra2008.pdf)

    Wendell Cox is a Visiting Professor, Conservatoire National des Arts et Metiers, Paris. He was born in Los Angeles and was appointed to three terms on the Los Angeles County Transportation Commission by Mayor Tom Bradley. He is the author of “War on the Dream: How Anti-Sprawl Policy Threatens the Quality of Life.”

  • Urban Infill With Less Hype and More Serendipity

    By Richard Reep

    Urban infill in cities of the Southeast follows typical patterns: assemblage of several blocks of older building stock at a low price; careful navigation through the zoning and public process to mix uses and increase density; and finally design and construction of parking, office, residential, and retail uses. The next phase is often marked by alienation and departure of the existing surrounding residents, concerns of safety and security within the development, and a socioeconomic wall between new and old.

    This sad pattern is evident in Orlando at Winter Park Village, a 90s New Urbanism infill, where a failed indoor shopping mall was eviscerated and converted to an outdoor retail and entertainment district. Initially it generated a buzz, attracted shoppers, and signed anchor tenants. But the adjacent lower-income residents benefitted not a whit from this development, surrounding land remains fallow or abandoned, and recent store closings call into question the long-term viability of the project.

    Such problems worsened during the real-estate bubble, which promoted residential-driven development. This tore even bigger rifts in the fabric of cities. Sodo, the most recent cluster development opening in south Orlando at the dawn of financially uncertain times, could have a different future. This development is free from preconceptions about urban form and style and does not pretend the world is as simple as it was at the turn of the 20th century. Sodo offers a mix of uses clustered in medium density with access to jobs in the city’s older, denser infrastructure.

    Typically, brave new residents buy into urban infill projects at a higher rate and higher price than the surrounding community, creating a class schism. The surrounding community in need of good jobs is reluctant to become the service workers in these developments, and this uneasy coexistence breeds anxiety and insulation. City planners consider these urban infills successful as they bring ‘higher-end’ residents (translated: higher tax contribution) and create the demand for more such projects. Older residents often despise the new construction and move out, driven out by a combination of increasing property values, loss of neighborhood identity, and a sense of alienation.

    In its infancy, Sodo appears to have the ingredients to become a good alternative to so-called “TND” or Traditional Neighborhood Development, as set forth by the Congress for the New Urbanism. Originally planned as condominium units, Sodo opens as a luxury rental community, which recognizes the current mortgage meltdown and the future of residential real estate in the Southeast. This neighborhood was typically oriented to the surrounding Wadeview railroad industrial district, but Sodo clearly looks north up Orange Avenue, beckoning hip, young, downtown workers.

    With a certain gritty charm, South Orange Avenue winds below downtown, anchored by orange-bricked Orlando Regional Medical Center, a vast complex shoehorned into the old, industrial neighborhood. Sodo is not within walking distance of 300 luxury units worth of anything, not now nor in the near future, which makes it decidedly un-New Urbanist. But as the economy idles, Sodo has attracted some interesting comments from its neighbors that tell a positive story.

    The development’s website is refreshing for what it does not proclaim in its marketing hype. It does not reference New Urbanist ideology anywhere. It does not claim to be a live-work-play solution to all life’s problems. It does not show happy white families riding bikes in parks. Its logo and presentation is simple and direct: Orlando is growing fast, and we want a piece of that pie. Rather than promote ideology, Sodo appears to promote itself as a blank slate upon which the future residents, retail and office tenants may write the future identity of this cluster.

    It is probably dangerous to draw conclusions from blogs, because the bloggers do not represent a broad cross-section of the population. Computer-savvy, opinionated, and sophisticated, bloggers do not include many elderly, minorities, and people too busy with their lives to dash off a few lines about their feelings. Therefore, the local bloggers’ positive attitude about Sodo may not represent the entire range of feelings of people affected by this development.

    However, rather than fear and loathing, Sodo has generated this: “I have had drunken people from the local bar (closing soon…HOORAY) pass out on my front yard. I am thrilled that this development is happening. It will no doubt enhance my quality of life and take us into a direction that the Wadeview Park area has sorely needed.” Similar comments abound, and the overall sense of approval from residents who bother to write about Sodo is a sign that this urban infill development is being welcomed rather than shunned.

    Another sign that Sodo may blend into its neighborhood is the developer’s choice to market it as exclusively rental. Although the rental is “luxury” starting at $1,000 per month for 659 square feet, the economic step between this property and the next-door homes is less than it would have been if these units had been sold as 300 trendy urban condos.

    Examined closer, Sodo makes some concessions to reality. It connects to the surrounding street grid on 3 sides, and the sense of safety and security within Sodo is beefed up with private security. The apartments have uninspiring views into their own parking garages, and the lack of green space throughout is harsh and startling. In order to accommodate parking, the anchor retail store parks its cars on the roof; shoppers are treated to the novelty of an outdoor shopping cart escalator, which should be interesting during the monsoon season of Orlando’s summer.

    While all this is encouraging, Sodo is not an example of organic growth, blending new and old seamlessly. For example, it is doubtful that Sodo residents and existing locals will bond over coffee in the Starbucks or burritos in the Taco Bell. Exclusively private, Sodo has no library, park, school, or other public amenity except for its shopping sidewalks, and it seems strange to think of Sodo hipsters venturing into the local community to worship, walk the streets, or volunteer. Sodo seems to be a social oasis, at least for the present moment.

    Sodo therefore exemplifies the problems of growth with which Orlando grapples: if taken in lumps, like Sodo, growth represents a jarring socioeconomic schism between the old and the new. If taken in lower density, like subdivisions, growth represents huge tracts of land being gobbled up, a jarring ecological schism between the natural and the manmade. Less lumpy than most, Sodo seems to have timing in its favor, with the slower growth of the near future allowing it to enter the economic slipstream at a lower speed.

    What is refreshing about Sodo, besides its crisp, clean, architecture, is that it does not carry the baggage of ideology and fetish for form that recent urban infill developments seem to carry. It is therefore free to evolve its identity by delivering safety and security to its residents, a sustainable mix of shopping and office spaces, and a sense of place that transcends the physical. Success is measured by functional yardsticks – not form yardsticks – and urban infill projects across the country can be measured the same way. Sodo may represent a realistic model of urban infill, welcomed by the community, able to assert its identity through the social and economic futures of its businesses and residents. This is the way healthy cities grow.

    Richard Reep is an Architect and artist living in Winter Park, Florida. His practice has centered around hospitality-driven mixed use, and has contributed in various capacities to urban mixed-use projects, both nationally and internationally, for the last 25 years.

  • Florida: The Music Has Stopped

    And those without chairs will be standing for an awfully long time

    By Richard Reep

    Florida real estate, which boasts a notorious tradition that dates back to Ponce de Leon’s search for the Fountain of Youth in 1513, has recently exceeded even its own flaky reputation. Quality of life here will suffer in the near term. In the long term, Florida’s economy will recover its viability, but in a new form.

    The immediate future will be difficult. By referendum, Florida enacted multiple property tax cuts in a state already known for low taxes. Now, with declining property values, the state legislature has drastically less money to spend on infrastructure, services, and capital improvements. Business, mostly tourism and land development, suffers from the economic turmoil. But it is the nonprofits who probably struggle the most. Floridians, known as the least generous donors to nonprofits, have now even less to donate, causing more holes in the safety net, reduced care for the needy, and reduced funding for the arts. It’s going to be a tougher state, particularly for the poor.

    Consider the Gulf coast town of Sarasota. Once known for its high-net-worth retirees, Sarasota diversified and prospered in the 1980s and 90s. Sarasota sported world-class public art along the waterfront, terrific galleries, and an affinity for contemporary architecture rare in the Southeast. Downtown was surrounded by a necklace of authentic, unique neighborhoods ranging from the Ringling School of Art in the north to Towles Court in the south. Sarasota County also boasted a mix of marine/industrial, agricultural, and tourism economies.

    Little of this has been sustainable in the current boom/bust cycle. Florida’s growth management dictates that each county submit a Comprehensive Plan for development. Once submitted, this Plan may be amended by the county Planning Commission if a landowner has sufficient cause to challenge it. Sarasota County’s Comprehensive Plan historically focused on coastal development. The pressure to add massive tracts of subdivisions, however, amended the Plan multiple times, diluting this concentration and allowing eastern inland regions of agricultural land to be rezoned for single-family houses. “It’s as if a company’s business plan could be changed at will by any employee of the company”, commented one county staff member recently, “making this Plan totally meaningless.” Sarasota threw away its own special sense of place, to its own detriment.

    As a result, the cultural life of Sarasota has perceptibly declined. Art galleries are closed, the public art venue is vacant, and waterfront redevelopment has stalled. In an effort to chase high-tech jobs, the county ignored the needs of a major local employer, causing the employer to relocate thousands of jobs out of the county. No high-tech companies were recruited in the process. Sarasota will need a great effort to pull out of this dive.

    Orlando, in the northern center of the peninsula of Florida, is a quintessential Ephemeral City, supporting private, world-class family entertainment. Orlando has suffered from similar issues as Sarasota, but somewhat less dramatically. Unlike Sarasota, Orlando can expand in all directions and has earnestly done so, encompassing three counties and two million people.

    Orlando seems to live in Disney’s bright shadow. Getting to know the older, denser parts of Orlando in more detail takes time. This mostly-ignored area offers an authentic and beautiful place that is relatively livable in terms of affordability, access, and social life.
    When the music was playing, downtown politicians were giving tax incentives to unique arts-oriented businesses that moved downtown. Today, they offer similar tax breaks to big box retail. Like downtowns of many primary and secondary cities, Orlando has sprouted multiple – mostly empty – condominium towers, but the city escaped the egregious situation of Miami (20+ empty towers). Nearly all surrounding communities have emulated this condition, with even sleepy Sanford (population 39,000) displaying an empty downtown condominium.

    Spreading out from downtown Orlando are older suburbs – including College Park, Thornton Park, and Old Winter Park – where marvelous pockets of sustainable mixed-use streets are interlaced with lakes and diverse residential neighborhoods. The saddest counterpoint to these jewels is the half-brownfield efforts of developers from Texas, North Carolina, and Atlanta. Large tracts of older building stock in these neighborhoods have been bought and scraped clean, with billboards advertising bland, residential-over-retail “town centers.” Without residential buyers, these projects have stalled, leaving empty wastelands of sand poignantly anchored by lonely sales trailers likely to remain dormant for years.

    Central Florida is also the breeding ground of garish New Urbanism developments, most notably Celebration and its facsimiles. These form-obsessed developments issue patternbooks for architecture, hoping that front porch control will instill community values and social order among those able to afford their mortgages and community association dues. Planners of these neighborhoods seem to find the industrial-era “streetcar suburb” to be the best America has had to offer. Every advance or innovation since then is regarded as too ‘modern’.

    At the same time, the social dimension of New Urbanist development has been very disappointing. Promoted in its early phase as a way to integrate multiple income levels into one community, New Urbanism is instead an excuse to ratchet up home sizes, lot sizes, and property prices to the highest possible threshold. There may be far more diversity in post-1950s suburban tracts than in these Celebration look-alikes.

    Further out, Orlando’s more conventional new subdivisions are in a similar condition to those of Phoenix and parts of California. All these trends make for a mixed prognosis for the livability of this region, and the State of Florida overall, after the unsold inventory is finally distributed and occupied.

    Yet despite the global factors working against them, both Orlando and Sarasota still have areas of interesting, special, and authentic quality for which locals and visitors express genuine affection. People who care about the quality of their built environment always seem to find a way to improve it, whether by overt investment in downtowns or in more covert fashion by staging cutting-edge art events in abandoned warehouses. The spirit of a good community seems to be alive, despite the uncertain future of Florida. Due to the intrinsic appeal of warm weather and beaches, a broad cross-section of people will continue to relocate here.

    Florida real estate will certainly continue its colorful tradition, but who will profit in the long run? I think communities that invest in the basics – good education, good jobs, and well-planned infrastructure – will find themselves leading the state’s next resurgence.

    Richard Reep is an Architect and artist living in Winter Park, Florida. His practice has centered around hospitality-driven mixed use, and has contributed in various capacities to urban mixed-use projects, both nationally and internationally, for the last 25 years.

  • Flushing in Florida?

    It’s all gloom and doom in the Miami Herald today after recent job numbers indicate the state is last in the nation in job creation.

    The top job-loss state in the nation. Shrinking wages. Collapsing population growth. Record home foreclosures.

    Florida’s economy is not just firmly and bleakly in the red —- it will likely stay that way until next June, according to the state government’s top economists who issued their most pessimistic financial forecast in years.

    With few exceptions, the economists’ Wednesday forecast shows that most economic indicators will do worse in this budget year when compared to a forecast they issued in February.

    A good sign that the recent growth in Florida was built on a house of cards, this is right in line with the findings of our Best Cities analysis.

    Link via Steve Bartin.