Reconciliation Skills Make Marriage Work

Like an arranged marriage between unwilling partners, the merger of city and county governments causes hard feelings and cold feet.

A survey three years after Athens, Ga., merged with Clarke County found 85 percent of employees wishing it’d never happened.

“I’m starting to enjoy it now. The first three years were hell,” said Gwen O’Looney, mayor of the government formed in 1991.

One of the biggest tasks was reviewing hundreds of city and county ordinances to make sure they didn’t conflict and made sense for both urban and rural areas.

Shooting guns, for instance, was allowed in the county, but forbidden in the city. When it came time to reconcile the two, hunters didn’t want to stop shooting deer and squirrels in rural areas. Urban dwellers didn’t want gunfire in their neighborhoods.

The issue was settled with an ordinance against shooting on small lots.

Personnel problems were more difficult to settle. Athens’ charter prohibited the new government from firing workers or cutting wages.

That political concession, which kept public employees from fighting the merger, meant politicians had to decide whether it would be the city’s public works director or the county’s who would lead the consolidated department. Same with the police department, the finance department and all the rest.

In each case, the loser became assistant director. If the assistant came from the city, he probably earned more than his boss, from the former county.

It wasn’t until this summer - four years after consolidation - that the government rewrote the pay schedule so employees doing the same jobs earned the same money.

Meanwhile, police sergeants from the city earned $5,000 more a year than those from the county. A lawsuit filed in 1993 by 18 former county officers still isn’t settled.

Other problems were unavoidable, said Assistant Police Chief Mark Wallace.

Officers from the two police departments had different priorities and different traditions. Some refused to drive cars that hadn’t come from their own jurisdiction. Some quit rather than report to unfamiliar supervisors.

“Change creates fear. Some people didn’t want to accept it,” Wallace said. “They said the good ol’ days were gone forever.”

Spokane is certain to go through many of the same pains if voters approve consolidation next month.

As in Athens, Spokane’s proposed charter promises to preserve jobs. However, it doesn’t extend that protection to department heads.

Spokane County employees generally earn less than their counterparts in the city. Many will get raises if consolidation passes.

The two governments have computer systems that can’t work together and benefits packages that don’t match. They’ll have to be replaced.

Ordinances would have to be reconciled.

And there are a myriad of small decisions. Would the council meet in the former City Hall or the former county courthouse? Would officers wear the blue of city police, the green of county deputies or uniforms of an entirely different color? What would Spokane call its new government?

The charter sets a timeline for merging Spokane city and county, but offers few suggestions to accomplish that.

Tom Nesbitt, a financial consultant hired by freeholders who wrote the charter, recommended sparing no cost to get the new government off to a good start.

His rough estimate for consultants, computers, uniforms and other merger costs, not including salary changes, was $7.9 million.

, DataTimes