Banking on the land

It's set to become one of the state's hottest debates. Dozens of cities and towns say they have an innovative way to preserve open spaces and community character. Acting governor Cellucci thinks it's a bad idea.

by Jason Gay

Last May a major conservation organization on Martha's Vineyard agreed to buy a 30-acre island property near a secluded coastal neighborhood known as Spring Point. The property, grabbed for $3.2 million, features a startlingly diverse slice of island topography, including stretches of highland forest, pasture, even murky ponds, all lined by stone walls dating back to Colonial times. But its greatest asset is shoreline: 1000 feet of unblemished, sandy beach that will be opened not just to Spring Point's exclusive residency, but to everyone on the island.

The buyer of this spectacular property was the Martha's Vineyard land bank, a public conservation organization funded by a 2 percent sales tax on most island real-estate transactions. The 30-acre purchase was the second most expensive in the land bank's 12-year history, a period in which it has conserved some 1100 acres for a shade over $30 million.

These numbers alone are startling, but more significant is the Vineyard land bank's raison d'être: buy the best of the island's open spaces, protect them from development, and preserve them for public use. At first glance, few missions seem as noble. The historic character of the Vineyard community, its physical soul, can be preserved by publicly raised money, ensuring that future generations will share its splendor -- whether hillsides, pasture land, or beaches.

With results like this, there's little wonder that so many Massachusetts communities covet land banks and other similar civic-improvement proposals funded by real-estate taxes. More than 100 cities and towns across the state, backed by environmental groups, have shown interest in using these "transfer taxes" to buy open space, preserve historic buildings, improve septic systems -- even build affordable housing. Ten communities, as well as the whole of Cape Cod, have home-rule petitions requesting transfer taxes pending in the State House, and the legislature appears largely friendly to the cause.

"This idea appeals to every single community in Massachusetts," says Deirdre Menoyo, an attorney with the Conservation Law Foundation, which has helped spearhead the transfer-tax initiative in the legislature.

But this transfer-tax momentum now faces a considerable and somewhat unexpected blockade in the form of Argeo Paul Cellucci. The acting governor steadfastly opposes transfer taxes, calling them unfair and discriminatory because they target a specific group (in this case, home buyers and sellers) for the benefit of the public at large. He also charges that such taxes are "elitist" and represent a threat to the working-class home buyer, and vows to veto any transfer-tax or land-bank bill that crosses his desk. This unabashedly populist viewpoint, which differs from that of Cellucci's predecessor, William Weld, is supported by an armada of influential lobbyists in the state's real-estate and development community.

It all adds up to a State House face-off this fall, one that pits a Republican acting governor flexing his campaign biceps against a formidable collection of cities, towns, and environmental interest groups. To Cellucci, this looming battle is about taxes -- what's fair and what's not. But to others, the fight over transfer taxes and land banks is about self-preservation: what Massachusetts communities can do to save their open spaces, landmarks, and heritage. Simply put, it's about the future, and you don't need to step across island sand near a place like Spring Point to recognize the stakes.

On to part 2

Jason Gay can be reached at jgay[a]phx.com.