This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2008, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.
The vision for Salt Lake County's west bench was mind-boggling in magnitude: hillsides sprouting with tens of thousands of homes, a residential population mushrooming to more than a half-million people and, to top it off, a ski resort blossoming in the rugged Oquirrh Mountain canyons.
But that seed never made it through the soil.
Kennecott abruptly withdrew its funding this year from the county's west-bench planning team - charged with crafting land-use laws to govern the 41,000-acre makeover - and effectively shelved one of the largest developments of its kind in the nation.
Publicly, the company reported that the shift signaled a change in "priority," driven by dramatic jumps in mineral prices and the copper giant's decision to extend the mine's life to 2036.
But, privately, the move also reflected a sometimes-heated deadlock with the county over Kennecott's long-term development rights and government's role in guiding growth, according to internal e-mails and meeting recordings obtained through an open-records request.
So the company pulled back its west-bench plans and told county staffers that it may peel off pieces of its project and pitch them to other jurisdictions.
"At some point, Kennecott has to make a business decision," the company's vice president of long-range planning, Jim Schulte, told a stunned west-bench planning team in February. "That is kind of what we are doing here. . . . After 2 1/2 years of really trying to work hard together, we have run into some things that are hurdles we just can't get over."
But if the county is "of the mind" to advance the company's projects in the future, the Kennecott boss added, then maybe the two could team up again.
The county was blindsided.
While e-mail chatter between county officials in late January suggests the project was about to "blow up again," the west-bench team pressed forward with a Jan. 31 daylong workshop aimed at creating "a sense of urgency and excitement" about Oquirrh Mountain development.
"Today is your time to think outside of the box, be creative and plan collectively," Mayor Peter Corroon said in his keynote address.
Unbeknown to the west-bench planners, Kennecott would halt their funding less than two weeks later.
So, why did it happen? Was Kennecott seeking too much, too soon? Or was the county too inflexible?
* * *
Days of ore:
The Oquirrh-bench buildup emerged as a grand exit strategy from Kennecott's mineral operations - once scheduled to end in 2012.
Instead of profiting from decades of copper, silver and gold extraction, Kennecott would mine the real-estate market.
The Daybreak development in South Jordan would come first. But, eventually, city-sized suburbs would hug hillsides north and south, transforming the valley's westernmost benches into communities of cul-de-sacs, town homes, shopping centers, office buildings, parks and schools.
As many as 200,000 homes might appear, sheltering more than a quarter of the county's population by 2060 and generating enough business to create 109,000 new jobs.
Completing the package would be a high-mountain ski resort in the Soldier Flats region above West Valley City that would offer powderhounds their first west-side venue for fresh flakes.
The sweeping project was unlike anything Salt Lake County government ever had encountered - so vast that it would affect valleywide transportation, public safety, education and other government services for generations to come.
A Chicago-based urban-planning firm, Camiros, described the plan as "one of the largest and most dynamic visions for unified development ever conceived in the country."
After more than a year of high-level discussions with Kennecott, the county assembled a west-bench planning team in March 2007 to draft the ordinances and agreements needed to guide Oquirrh development during the next 75 years.
Kennecott, in return, paid the five-member team's salaries and split consultant costs with the county - an expense that topped $1.6 million by the time the parties parted ways this spring.
* * *
What went wrong:
Salt Lake County had dealt with large developments before - the planned community of Rosecrest sprawls across more than 2,000 acres in Herriman.
But nothing compared to the west bench.
Kennecott had come to the county with 75,000 acres of open land - of which 41,000 was developable. The property was so large that it would cover the valley's entire east side from 900 East to the Wasatch foothills.
The company's time frame was equally unprecedented: Housing and commercial construction was expected to continue through much of the 21st century.
But Kennecott wanted protection for its investment through an overarching zoning ordinance, plus wide latitude for laying out future Daybreak-like communities. Its wish list went like this:
* Long-term development rights to the property that would guarantee (no matter how the county's political administrations might change) that Kennecott someday could construct 200,000 homes and 59 million square feet of commercial space along the Oquirrh bench.
* Mining rights to the entire property. Kennecott wouldn't dig around development, of course, but it wanted the discretion to explore for minerals elsewhere - including on the 34,000 acres that the company listed as open space. (Kennecott recently sought permission from federal land managers to probe for minerals near Herriman within Rose Canyon Ranch, which the county bought last fall as permanent open space.)
The county winced.
The District Attorney's Office warned that the county couldn't bind future administrations legally and criticized the Kennecott-authored west-bench zoning ordinance as too vague to protect the county from wrongheaded development down the road.
Planners also wrangled over open space and affordable housing - Kennecott steered clear of specific commitments on both - and questioned whether the west bench really could handle the number of residential units and commercial space that the copper giant had proposed.
"With any large-scale project, you are going to have issues where you disagree," Corroon said. "Our goal was to make sure that we were protecting the citizens and protecting Salt Lake County government, so that we wouldn't go down a path that would be harmful."
A mistake, the mayor said, "would affect our county for decades to come."
By summer 2007, Kennecott had grown impatient.
"[Project Manager] David White has to completely rewrite the ordinance drafted by Kennecott Land. The ordinances drafted were ambiguous and were very favorable to Kennecott and not to the county," Public Works Director Linda Hamilton wrote in a June e-mail to Corroon. "David needs some shelter from the pressure being applied by Kennecott for the next six weeks. . . . By protecting, I mean do not listen to Kennecott's complaint that we are not moving quickly enough."
Negotiations dragged through August, missing the deadline for presenting drafts to the Planning Commission, and into the fall and winter. The parties even parleyed for a two-day summit, including a facilitator, at the Salt Palace Convention Center in mid-December.
But Kennecott and the county had reached an impasse.
Meanwhile, copper prices surged to about $3.50 a pound - it sold for less than $1 when Kennecott Land formed in 2001 - and the company announced it would keep mining until 2036.
The result: Kennecott yanked funding for the county's west-bench team and declared it would take a different tack for future development, perhaps seeking to annex parcels into cities.
Kennecott brass made no outward accusations against the county then. But internal e-mails suggest that they pointed fingers privately.
"Externally, we have no intention of laying the blame on anyone," Kennecott representative Alexis Cairo wrote to the mayor's spokesman, Jim Braden. "Internal discussions with the county are another matter."
While the object of Kennecott's blame remains unclear, meeting transcripts and e-mail correspondence during the final months of the west-bench project indicate that mine leaders felt the planning process was moving too slowly and that the county was not providing the enduring development rights the company wanted.
"What we were really striving for was a formula that would give us enough certainty through development rights that we could invest money in the project and yet still retain enough discretionary authority for the county so that they felt they could influence the project over time," Schulte said in an interview. "Finding that balance . . . proved difficult."
* * *
Downsizing:
Kennecott now is contemplating two smaller (but still expansive) developments in the foothills west of Magna, West Valley City and Kearns. Like Daybreak, each would span 4,000 to 5,000 acres.
But the question is: Will Kennecott turn to the county for help? Or will it peddle its projects elsewhere?
Kennecott hasn't decided. But the company has made it clear to county staffers and some County Council members that it would consider pitching its plans to other jurisdictions.
"There are perhaps alternatives with other west-side cities," Schulte told planners in February.
The Kennecott boss denies the company is trying to leverage the county's cooperation. But it sure sounds like that to County Councilman Joe Hatch, who recalled a similar politely worded threat in a private meeting earlier this year.
"If you think that kind of threat is going to change our beliefs about planning and zoning," he remembers telling company officials, "it ain't going to work."
It struck a similar chord with the county's former west-bench attorney, Paul Nielson, who said the company had threatened repeatedly to "walk away from the county" and work with someone else.
"It certainly wasn't intended as a threat," Schulte said in an interview. "That's not our style."
But it solicited this response from the county's head of planning and development.
"At the end of the day, we have to compete for your business, too, or we know you're going to [annex] under another city," Simon Ginn said. "We have to now prepare our business case and make it such that it's attractive [for Kennecott] to want to do business."
As that process unfolds, Kennecott will remain under increased public scrutiny after revelations that the company concealed for more than a decade the risk of its mine-waste impoundment rupturing during a major earthquake and inundating a Magna neighborhood.
Even so, Kennecott's west-bench vision remains largely intact - hillside homes, commercial corridors and business offices along the Oquirrhs. But it may take longer.
While Kennecott hints "near-term" opportunities may lie in developing two Oquirrh Mountain communities - Little Valley and Soldier Flats - officials provide few details about when that development might occur.
But don't expect to see Kennecott resurrect its plans for a comprehensive west-bench ordinance.
According to Schulte, future developments will come one Daybreak at a time.
jstettler@sltrib.com" Target="_BLANK">jstettler@sltrib.com