Prairie Echoes
“We kick ass and take names.” Someone, I don’t remember who, asked my boss why Vernon Hills was so stridently successful. Perhaps they were hoping for some nuanced theory of community building and organizational development. They got Larry Laschen, instead. Few words, and so huskily delivered, they scarred people senseless. I don’t remember the guy’s name who asked - some developer – but I remember his response. “Seems to be working”.
I was too dumb and young to be scared, and just about invited Larry out to the parking lot to fight in our first interview. I applied to be an analyst for the Vernon Hills Police Department and Larry sat in on the interview. Larry was the former Police Chief and became Village Manager because … well, because Larry was a damn genius with impeccable ethics who took no shit and got things done. Oh dear, I’m swearing again. I kind of learned it from Larry and have been trying to unlearn it ever since.
Larry sat in on the interview and stole me as a potential VHPD employee to work directly for him. Vernon Hills was in annexation blitzkrieg mode and there was plenty of work to do as we more than doubled the size of the city and increased the tax base something like eight times over. The eighty-hour workweeks were a joy, as Larry just pointed me in a direction and let me run, tip of the Vernon Hills spear, as far and as fast as I could. It was great. Six bordering cities, with constantly updated battle plans for each, as Vernon Hills claimed what was ours. Then I got to beat up bad developers mercilessly and work creatively with good developers (rare, but not extinct) filling in a few billion dollars of tax base and building a community to last.
When I left, I highlighted a zoning map with the parcels I was part of annexing or platting. In preparation for my trip back to Lake County with prospective Seaside developer Brian Boudreau, I come across the map. Check (here) for the Twitter feed of the tour. Regarding the Vernon Hills map ... um ... the green highlighter was running out of ink by the time I finished.
There’s also quite a lot of green in the village’s coffers (and active rec spaces). All the fiscal impact modeling seems to have worked since they still don’t levy a municipal property tax, but do have a AAA bond rating. That’s a heck of a trick to pull off. By the way, heck is not a swear word – the Tribune itself uses it (here) to describe just one little moment in the Vernon Hills manifest destiny era.
Pro tip on how to keep a competing city from noticing a multipage legal description in a newspaper of general circulation? Publish it on Thanksgiving Day.
Aztec Camera’s “Life’s a one take movie” lyric is one of my favorites, and it’s playing in my head along with Larry's voice as I walk through Vernon Hills with Brian and Beth, explaining a base reuse as recreational space and a park-intensive traditional neighborhood project. It was cutting edge in the Chicago region at the time, and the state's largest homebuilder wasn't too keen on the idea of trying something new at the start. But they caught the vibe about the village being steadfast in our desire to have a traditional neighborhood, went along, and on opening day sold out of all available lots.
When we get to Prairie Crossing, which was even more cutting edge and did not sell out on opening day, Larry's voice is replaced with George and Vicky Ranney’s. George and Vicky were the driving force behind Prairie Crossing. Each is their own force individually and, together, they’re a two in a million team. Google around if you want, but I can spare you the effort; they’re both terrific. Presidential level gravitas, gubernatorial / CEO or better power, mixed with farm house sincerity and earnestness? Those are the Ranneys.
I was blessed to learn from watching them as we worked for years to create Prairie Crossing Charter School. We shared many late weekday nights and early weekend mornings, sitting around farm house tables, trying to do what no one had yet done. Up against the largest and most powerful public bureaucracies and political forces in the state, it was basically George, Vicky, Miriam Frank and me. Still too young and dumb to be scared, and taking no prisoners in my day job, I was the cannon at the knife fight. Also principal author of the charter, the words would come right cross, left jab, right knockout from my word processor. George, Vicky and Miriam would tone them down, even them out, and pace the fight. In a fight that lasted years, I never once heard George swear, and can’t imagine that Vicky ever has.
Maybe … there’s more than one way to passionately advance an idea. And thus, a little less young and a little less dumb. Vicky and Miriam yin. George and Larry yang. If you get one great professional mentor in your life, you’re lucky. I have four to choose from. To mix and match, and think about as challenges arise.
Kick ass and take names. I think Larry was just being tactical, letting a developer know that Vernon Hills was not to be trifled with. A little less young and a little less dumb (opinions vary), connecting hearts to higher ideals seems a better approach.
