"If you would be interested in doing a follow-up story say, for example, under the title 'Rory Reid, breaking his word'."
What we have here is a failure to communicate.
What we have here is a dispute between longtime users of Dog Fancier's and Horseman's Park and the paying customers who stage competitions at the venerable facility on Flamingo and Jimmy Durante.
What we have here is a battle over semantics between park loyalists and the county commissioner they claim reneged on a promise to keep the park as is—12 big, open, grassy acres. Rory Reid recalls a promise, but not that one.
Marion Musk thought the 31-year-old facility was safe. At an October meeting at Whitney Elementary, Reid promised not to press for a 7-acre children's park sought by KB Homes, which is building a nearby subdivision. Musk, who's used the park for five years, and others, who frequented for decades, said the children's park was a KB ploy (Reid denied it) to satisfy county open-space standards. They argued it would curtail parking, despoil the last recreational refuge in town for dogs and horses ("We've been thrown out of every other park," said a lady from the Horseman's Council of Nevada) and create an uneasy commingling of kids and pets. "Say a kid gets bit or kicked," one lady said, "I'm liable and that's not fair."
The feeling was that, were the park approved, no amount of hanging chads would save Reid. "If you don't want the park," the newby commissioner told them, "I'm not going to shove it down your throat."
That was that. At least it was supposed to be.
Now, Musk says, unruly dog trainers (who pay to use the park) and park maintenance are ruining a community mainstay.
The trainers, she says, "come in combat fatigues, chain Rottweilers to the fence, pull out whips and 'train' them. If they want to fight, go over to Iraq or Afghanistan, not here. I've called police and animal control but they haven't done anything. I've called the county. Nothing. These flyball people [who put on races in which collies and other small dogs snatch tennis balls and run hurdle-filled courses] want the park to themselves."
Confronting them is scary. Musk says she's been told to f--k off, that "we're taking the f--king park back from you guys."
And the government response? Grin, grit your teeth, do what must you must, just bear it.
While he disagreed with the alleged behavior of those park users, Reid says he's walking a fine line, trying to appease two groups, longtime users (including many seniors) and paying customers, both passionate about animals and their right to be there. The park has hosted dog contests for years, competitions testing agility, like flyball, others measuring intelligence, and some simply for fun (Dress Your Dog, Silly Dog Tricks or Dance with Your Dog). Loyalists blame competition organizers for the fencing that's slicing the 12 acres in into parcels. Reid says rolling-gate fences also aid in landscaping—allowing workers to make repairs.
Walking her dogs one morning, Musk discovered construction workers digging trenches and fences waiting to be installed. She claims a county source told her the project wasn't planned and has been beset by trouble—wrong and mismatched parts. Nor was anyone informed, she claims, of a conservation push that's led to the removal of significant portions of grass, as well as decreased watering, which has resulted in trees dying, some 20- to 30-years old. "You've got people that have paid $300 for a tree and memorial plaque for their deceased loves ones, and the trees around them are dead and the grass is dead. The county is saving money on water. I asked for a faucet for the dogs. Now, they tell me the county is out of money."
The fencing also limits park access for the elderly and handicapped. "There's no consideration whatsoever for the taxpayers," Musk says, "only consideration for people with pedigreed dogs." She says that same county source told her a national group conditioned a $1.5 million gift to the county on the installation of fencing for an October competition. (The county, she says, then lost the contest to a hotel.) In a May 18 e-mail response to park user Ursula Kania, Musk claims Reid promised to stop the fencing project until he could get additional public comment. When Kania tried to e-mail Reid again, she was purportedly blocked as a sender.
Reid denies blocking Kania, the $1.5 million bribe or knowledge of how the fences became an issue.
"That was a decision made by the maintenance staff," he says, noting that maintenance workers have been hand-watering thirsty landscape. "County staff informed me that the fencing is controversial, and I talked to people about the fencing. My belief was that they sought and received input. I recognize others don't feel that way."
With furor springing anew—the last meeting drew 120 participants and heated sniping; Reed was dubbed a liar and KB Homes pawn—the commissioner hasn't decided on scheduling another public meeting. "I have been pretty accessible on this issue," he says. Right now, he's trying to gauge whether there's even a controversy.
"People are complaining that I went against my word," Reid says. "I said I was not going to build a neighborhood park on the 10 acres, and I haven't. That isn't happening."