ESTABLISH A HOUSE

... Establish a house, even a house of prayer, a house of fasting, a house of faith, a house of learning, a house of glory, a house of order, a house of God
D&C 88:119

On my way to work on the very first day of my new assignment as CES coordinator for Northwest Arkansas, I noticed an old house on an oversized lot not two blocks from the university. My first official act was to call the Area office.

“Richard, are you sitting down?”

“Uh-oh.Yes, why?”

“I took some back roads to work this morning.”

“Double uh-oh.”

“I noticed a “for sale” sign on a piece of property ideally located for an Institute.”

“You haven’t even held your first class yet.”

“I know, I know, but it’s going to grow, and prices are going to keep going up.”

“You’re something else! But I’m with you – go for it. And let me know what you find.”

That particular property didn’t turn out to be right. But Richard had said, “Go for it,” hadn’t he? I spent hours – days even -- driving around campus looking, thinking, talking, pondering, praying.

Year one: the nicest lady in her 90’s lived in a spacious older home on a beautiful, serene, wooded acre right next to the alumni house. Although her children thought she should, she wasn’t ready to sell. Then, a realtor friend of our realtor was retiring and was liquidating her rental property, some of which was in another good location for an Institute. But her asking price was double the market value.

Year two: our landlord had some property that would have worked, but the Church’s offer contained so many contingencies that he threw up his hands in frustration and rejected it outright. Later, our stake president suggested building an Institute wing on a meetinghouse that he was about to request; CES and Meetinghouse could work together, seeking appropriate property adjacent to the University. To Salt Lake this was a new idea at that point in time; it took forever to convince the powers that be to approve it in theory.

Year three: a picturesque 2.7 acre “urban forest” in just the right location was located that had been on the market for some time, at quite a reasonable price. The Church wanted 3.5 acres. The owner of the adjacent undeveloped property was not interested in selling. Salt Lake, to their credit, approved an exception to policy and drew up building plans for the property that was available. Those plans and accompanying statement of intended use passed the city’s zoning board and planning commission. When it got to the final approval by the city council we learned why that particular property had been on the market so long: the “tree-huggers” came out in full force. They weren’t about to allow the last stand of native growth in the city to be developed. It came down to this: the city wanted a minimum of 175 parking spaces. In order to preserve the required number of trees and build the chapel according to the standard plan plus the institute wing, the Church architects could only figure out how to put 153 parking places onto the property. The city was willing to compromise at 160. The only problem was that there was one huge, beautiful tree in the way of the additional parking spaces. Not that tree – that one could not be removed -- even though there were others on the property that could be left to meet the tree regulations. The building could not be re-positioned and still comply with set-back rules and other zoning requirements. The city suggested eliminating the chapel overflow to accommodate the tree/parking space stand-off.

“What! Now the city is telling us how to build our buildings?! That will not be tolerated.” That was the reaction and final decision of Salt Lake. The tree-huggers had once again prevailed. We ached all over, the stake president and I, for weeks.

Year four: Salt Lake moved the goalposts. What was needed now was 100 LDS college students enrolled in Institute during Fall semester. We had 44, the third year in a row that the number of enrolled students had been in the 40’s. I had recently come to realize why.

We were on Dickson St. aka Campus Debauchery St. We were located over a store, accessible by a spooky set of stairs, the destination obscured from view until arrival. During freshman orientation the previous summer a mother had brought her daughter by the Institute. Before leaving the mother pulled me aside, and pleasantly but with fervor made these observations:

“I’ve seen too many western movies, I guess.”

“Why? What do you mean?”

“You know what too often happens in those movies when the characters go up to the mysterious rooms at the top of the winding staircase, right? Well, it’s all I can do to leave my firstborn in a place where the Institute looks like the second floor of a western tavern.”

I assured her that this particular second-floor destination did indeed house the Spirit. But I also realized what was happening. We had gotten all whose parents had faith enough to send their child to a university where the Institute was housed in a suspect environment. We would stay in the 40’s until the Millenium if we remained in that location.

I became persistently adamant that we needed a place of our own, so much so that the powers that be sent out a representative to talk to me personally.

Over lunch, the conversation went something like this.

“We can’t buy and remodel anything until your enrollment numbers approach 100.”

“We’re in a ‘Catch 22:’ our program won’t grow until we’re in a better location, but we can’t get a better location until our program grows.”

“In many parts of the Third World there are literally hundreds enrolled in particular programs that don’t have adequate facilities either, and we need to take care of them.”

I felt doomed, but then it came to me, (“He hasn’t said ‘no’ yet; he’s trying to without using the word. Make him say the ‘n’ word -- make him say it.”)

I was able to counter every reason offered for not granting approval. We ended on a friendly stalemate, but at least the word “no” had not entered the conversation. I reconciled myself to do the best I could in the facilities we had; I really thought I had essentially been told no.

A couple of months later that long hoped for but by now unexpected phone call came. “The Board, upon reconsidering the circumstances, has granted an exception to policy and given approval to move ahead on purchasing a new site for your Institute.”

I was delirious with joy.

Year five: our landlords told us about a rental shack on four acres tucked back off the street, too far from the university to meet policy, but on the campus bus route (buses were free for students), which made it a possibility. I checked it and informed Salt Lake, who scheduled a brother from Real Estate to come out and make a decision.

A few days later, for some reason I turned off a block sooner than usual as I approached the Institute. And there it was, a derelict home with a “for sale” sign in the yard on the street that bordered campus on the east. Perfect! Not just adequate, but Perfect!

“Hold the presses!” I practically bellowed into the phone when I contacted the Area office.

Within 48 hours Richard the Area Director was on my doorstep. “It’s perfect, Bob, just perfect. We’d have to get a structural engineer out here to make sure the building is sound; we’d need to spread out the remodeling over two fiscal budget years, but it’s been done before.”

Later in the day, his comment was, “I don’t know, Bob, that’s $57,000 more than policy allows.”

“But the location is ideal – it’s perfect! We could not possibly find a better location. Should we give it a shot anyway?”

“You’re right – it’s exactly what our students here need. Let’s go for it.”

We didn’t even take the Salt Lake real estate guy to the shack on 4 acres; instead we headed directly to the former fraternity annex, mattresses still in the attic, wet bar still partially stocked in the basement, walls painted in garish colors with a Halloween motif (that last party must have been something!), situated right on the edge of campus, a stone’s throw or two just downhill from the library. A structural engineer certified the dilapidated, century-old, three-story-plus-basement edifice as well-built and sound of foundation. An offer was made and accepted. Securing zoning and city council approval and the requisite building permits went smoothly this time. The Area project manager was contacted, who in turn accepted bids and hired a contractor.

Year six: we had a good, competent, friendly contractor, easy to work with. The same could not be said of the city or the federal government, nor the overseers in Salt Lake City.

City: the parking lot will have to be redesigned to preserve these two additional trees. Result, after more than a month of reconfiguring and seeking approval: the most mumble-jumble parking lot on the face of the earth.

Federal government: how are you going to provide handicapped access to the second floor facilities? Solution: use the ground floor lounge as an auxiliary library, complete with book shelves; make both the upstairs and ground-floor restrooms unisex. Government: the handicapped ramp is too narrow, too steep; the handicapped parking is on too steep of an angle. Solution: take out the just-constructed handicap ramp and re-do it from scratch, government concedes that the slope of the lot makes it impossible to comply with the handicap parking regulation, and grants an exception.

Salt Lake City: No, you can’t go buy your ceiling fans. They are not authorized in any of our buildings in your area of the country. In fact, the whole project is not authorized; your numbers don’t even come close to justifying it.

The project was authorized by the Committee on Expenditures on such and such a date. The site has been purchased, drawings completed and approved, building permits issued, a contactor hired, and the project more than half-way completed.

What? Impossible! You’ll need to suspend all work on the project until further notice.

Two weeks later: I don’t know how you did it with those low numbers, but the project is indeed authorized. My apologies. But you can’t have ceiling fans. No one gets them. Besides, it would cost $10,000 or more to issue a change order to reconfigure the wiring at this late date in the project.

The wiring was done with the pre-approved ceiling fans in mind. It’s all ready.

But you would need connector boxes in the middle of the ceiling.

Already in place.

What about frame reinforcement?

Done. We’re just asking for permission to buy the fans. The drop-down ceiling has been installed, and it’s time to put the fans up.

How much is that going to cost?

$400 for ten fans.

Is that all?! You can get quality fans for $40 each?!

You can in bulk, at least here.

So all you’re asking for is $400?

Not exactly – we’re merely asking for permission to spend $400 that has already been budgeted.

Well why didn’t you say so!

Similar scenario on carpet.

Same thing on phone system.

Does the right hand ever know what the left hand is doing in Salt Lake?

The now attractive, comfortable, and functional Institute of Religion, which also housed the local student branch, was dedicated in March of 1999. That fall 82 LDS college students enrolled in Institute, up from 47 the previous spring.