EDITOR’S NOTE: This is the second in a five-part series looking at the historic issue of flooding in Richland County, its impact and potential ideas in dealing with the problem.
MADISON TOWNSHIP — Dan Tucker is a farm investor and he owns Tucker Brothers Auto Wrecking in Mansfield. One of his eight Richland County farms harbors waters of the Clear Fork and Black Fork of the Mohican River, but only his junkyard property on Hickory Lane is endangered by river erosion.
He said the junkyard is met with a half-mile of the river’s banks, which cut away at his property much like the rivers in Richard Masters’ backyard — until he obtained a permit to build up his own embankment.
“I just dumped some construction riffraff (riprap) onto the bank to build it up. The water comes clear up to here when it (the river) floods,” Tucker said as he pointed to the riprap embankment on his junkyard property.
“There was one year that a school bus fell into the river right here,” Tucker explained as he pointed downstream. “It was getting bad.”
Both Tucker and Masters suspect money is a central issue surrounding why rivers are not maintained. They both have the same suggestion to fix the problem: use money from their property tax spikes.
They are talking about the recent controversial Current Agricultural Use Valuation property tax formula. Statewide, farmers are experiencing up to 70 percent increases in their property taxes.
The CAUV program was first enacted in Ohio in 1974 and was a response to tanking real estate values across the state. Farmers’ land is now taxed based on its agricultural value using the CAUV formula, not its real estate value.
But since 2010, the tides have turned. Agricultural prices have decreased, making farms like Masters’ experience steep increases in tax bills at year’s end. Masters and Tucker are concerned about where their hard-earned crop money is ending up — they suspect one thing: the money isn’t being used to dredge the rivers meandering through their properties.
They are right, but the CAUV has nothing to do with a landowner’s water, according to Richland Soil and Water Conservation District Administrator John Hildreth.
Hildreth is familiar with these issues. But unfortunately for Masters and Tucker, Hildreth is limited in the amount of help he can offer.
“What people need to realize is that we (private landowners) don’t own the water, the state of Ohio does. They (private landowners) do not have the right to alter and create disturbances that affect water quality,” Hildreth said.
Hildreth referred to the Clean Water Act of 1972, which serves as the country’s primary federal law governing water pollution. The laws were meant to prevent pollution sources in rivers and streams that flow into larger bodies of water.
“Before the Clean Water Act, landowners could go in and do whatever they wanted without any consequences,” Hildreth said.
Masters experienced the days where landowners like himself were permitted to dredge his section of the river without legal consequence. Now, however, the law mandates Masters and other landowners along rivers and streams jump through bureaucratic hoops.
“He needs to go to the Ohio EPA and request, or file for a notice of intent. His request will be reviewed and comments will go back and forth between the EPA and him,” said Hildreth.
Hildreth admitted the state laws create a gray area for landowners.
If Masters owns 92 acres of land, and the state owns the rivers running through that land, what does Masters do when the rivers cut into his land — land that might someday become un-farmable?
“Yes, it’s complicated. It’s due process. And the process starts by talking to the Ohio EPA,” Hildreth said. “Vent to them what he feels is wrong. He also has the burden of coming up with solutions. And that might require an engineer to come in that’s qualified in hydraulics … Right out of his pocket.”
A silent pause.
“I know that’s probably not something these guys want to hear,” Hildreth said, sighing.
Especially after weathering as much as 185 percent increases for their CAUV taxes. Paying for an engineer to figure out how to fix their river problem is not something landowners like Masters and Tucker would find prudent.
As a farmland investor, Tucker is familiar with the CAUV tax calculations — he is paying upwards of $50,000 per year in taxes — a 150-percent increase from $22,000 just a few years back. The largest spike he saw was on his 160-acre farm. In 2013 he owed $3,500. In 2014 he owed $10,000, an increase of 185 percent.
Out of his eight farms, only one encounters a river, the Black Fork, and Tucker said he is not concerned with its erosion. But he empathizes with farmers like Masters, who also experienced CAUV spikes.
When asked how much his CAUV taxes have increased in the last few years, Masters said he did not remember.
“They’ve just doubled,” he insisted.
“There’s much more the state’s CAUV could do to help out farmers who have problems with their rivers,” Tucker suggested.
Turns out Tucker is right — in theory. But realistically that will never happen, according to state officials. And the solution is part of a larger, ongoing issue (which will be touched on in Wednesday’s story).
