Courthouse lines in the sand have become scars

When a line is drawn in the sand, who has the courage to scratch it out?

When a person or group draws a line in the sand, it generally means establishing a point - a line - beyond which the person or group refuses to go or beyond which the person or group would not tolerate advance. Lines in the sand, usually metaphorical, can turn situations hopelessly adversarial.

There must be a few lines in the sand in Seneca County.

Recently, the Seneca County Courthouse and Downtown Redevelopment Group presented a plan to the Seneca County commissioners that could lead to the renovation of the vacant 1884 Seneca County Courthouse. Unfortunately, the decision may not be as simple as analyzing the data and coming to a logical conclusion. The commissioners may need to navigate through memories of litigation, confrontation, polite intimidation and even hints of defamation. All those lines that have been drawn in the sand have created perhaps permanent scars on the Seneca County landscape.

"Who do I see about getting my good reputation back?" Commissioner Ben Nutter posed the rhetorical question in a private interview during September 2007. "I've been an honest person my entire life," Nutter said then. "I only became a commissioner because I felt like I have something to offer and wanted to help my community."

Nutter declared his conscience was clear. He said he never deliberated county business with any other commissioners outside of open board sessions.

Public comments have not always been kind. Some comments cut like razors through the fabric of the community. During a Courthouse Preservation Summit held at Heidelberg in November 2007, a college professor stood and declared the presence of a sickness.

"It's an illness that's inbred," he said. "It's also part of the polarization in America of the people who have enlightenment, of people who understand and people who don't."

On that day, the enlightened people were in favor of renovating the courthouse. Perhaps I should have reported the comment all those months ago to let the unenlightened know what he had said.

He said, perhaps quite accurately, polarization was being played out in Tiffin over the fate of the courthouse.

"It's almost like the last loudmouth in the coffee shop who has an opinion is the expert," he said.

The professor was critical of local leaders who chose to remain neutral. He called it anti-intellectualism and irresponsible leadership. He said more. I won't repeat it all. Them are fightin' words, some might say.

He concluded his lengthy remarks by hinting that a comic book style of communication might get the point across to those who still opposed, or at least did not openly support, the renovation of the courthouse.

There have been residents of the county who have challenged the commissioners openly in board sessions, not always politely.

Letters to the editor indicate the rift between the preservationists and the demolitionists still seems pronounced throughout the county. Every time a new line was drawn in the sand, somebody's toes got injured.

The Seneca County Courthouse and Downtown Redevelopment Group presented a plan that might work to save the courthouse. What the redevelopment group could not present - and what may be the real key to tipping the scales firmly toward renovation - is the sincere apologies of every individual or group on any side who has drawn lines in the sand.

No matter what happens to the 1884 courthouse, the time has come in Seneca County for the community to decide what kind of people its courthouse - old or new - represents. Are they kind? Are they polite? Do they respect their fellow residents - even the unenlightened? Do they respect opposing opinions and differing beliefs? Are they capable of apologies?

It isn't the buildings, historic or otherwise, that make a community great. It's the people.

There are many lines still drawn in the sand. Who has the courage to scratch them out?

Kevin Risner

covers county and

city government for The Advertiser-Tribune.