Those lyrics to that Steely Dan song never made sense to me, but they just might when I roll out of bed this Thursday.
 The soap opera is too long for a little blog. Some say it goes back to the days of the Depression. Buncombe County bailed Asheville out when they couldn’t pay their debts on their water lines. Those lines supposedly have rotted away by now, but the Buncombe County Commissioners say they haven’t. Just how many lines are in use or where they are, or even where the deeds are, are questions worthy of hems and haws and changes in subject matter.
So, it turned out that rather than letting Asheville run its municipal water system, a regional water authority was formed so everybody could enjoy the profits, but nobody in particular would be responsible for maintenance and upgrades. The water system fell into disrepair, and everybody blamed Asheville.
 Then, a few years ago, former City Manager Jim Westbrook foresaw a lot of benefits from terminating the water agreement. Asheville’s bond rating would go up, Asheville could set the water rates and charge differential rates to persons outside the city limits to compensate for the double-taxation people in the city have to pay, and Asheville wouldn’t need permission from other government agencies bent on vetoing initiatives to repair and refurbish water lines.
 At the prospect of Asheville charging differential rates, Buncombe County used tax dollars to advertise that the city was going to double or triple water rates. This scared the school boards and colleges into fighting back. Rumors swirled about a big developer with powerful lobbyists (whose initials are BF) fighting strongly against Asheville control of the water system.
 Before the water negotiations were a household word in Asheville, the local delegation had their speeches down about “greedy” Asheville not being able to fix anything. “Look at the Civic Center!”
 Asheville had everything to win by not going to the table to negotiate, which appeared to be then Mayor Charles Worley’s strategy. Somewhere along the line, he softened. For what reasons remain known only to those in the private sessions, the water issues were discussed in closed meetings.
After reporter extraordinaire Rebeccah Cantley-Falk blew the whistle on city council for attempting to negotiate public business in closed session, Dr. Carl Mumpower refused to participate in further violations of open meetings law. Rebeccah made enough noise that the city and county stumbled upon a marvelous plan. They would have both boards assemble in different meeting rooms of a hotel, and call a couple of them at a time to talk, let them go back to their groups, and then call another couple together. Rebeccah’s paper sued, and lost.
Some public meetings were staged. Commissioner David Gantt pulled some lawyer tricks to make it look like the interim water director was lying. At one point, Hanks shot back, “Your county manager is a CPA. She can read a CAFR!” Gantt banked lucratively on the ignorance of the masses who understood the emotions, but not the accounting.
Some members of city council, like Holly Jones, were willing to give up personal vacations to negotiate; but the county commissioners, like members of the legislative delegation, were always too busy to do more than toss a few rhetorical statements about the table in rare meetings.
Councilman Brownie Newman seemed to have an interest in selling the farm, though the county’s assessment of the value was about three orders of magnitude shy of the city’s. Browie came up with plan after detailed plan for how the city could take recreation facilities and whatnot as hostages in the negotiations. At their final meeting before the termination of the water agreement, present Mayor Terry Bellamy wanted to use limited time to iron out the recreational aspects of the deal.
 Also in the final hour, the state legislature passed two bills forbidding Asheville, and Asheville alone, from charging differential water rates. (Everybody else does.) The bills also forbade Asheville from using water as a tool for annexation. (Everybody else does.) It also became a state law that Asheville couldn’t transfer water revenues to the general fund. So, at the stroke of midnight, Asheville got the water system, but it had turned into a pumpkin.
 Asheville sued. Even though city residents would be paying for protracted litigation for the city and the defendants (the county and state legislature), the pursuit of justice is an appropriate use of the public treasury.
In the meantime, the city started making major repairs to the water system, it turned the golf course into an almost self-sustaining enterprise, and it took action toward cleaning up parks and ridding them of criminal activity.
 And so, not too long ago, word leaked that the city and county had once again been conducting secret meetings in onesies and twosies to stay within the spirit of open meetings laws and settle out of court. Newman and Bellamy were, apparently, representing the city. It was also leaked that the Civic Center had once again been taken hostage. As the county doesn’t have a leg to stand on, it is obvious why they would want to settle out of court, but why is the city so compliant?
This Wednesday, I am expecting a grim announcement (after another closed meeting, of course).
