DATELINE: ATLANTA : Opulent county building lightning rod for stormy protest over property taxes

Atlanta may be dressed for spring in dogwoods, azaleas and myriad other delightful blooms, but a tax revolt has smeared a mean streak across its face.

Nobody likes tax hikes. The reaction to a recent mass reevaluation of property values in Fulton County, however, goes far beyond mere displeasure. Folks around here are talking recall.

Feeding the seething anger at the county government is the opulent building from which the reevaluation came. The Fulton County Government Center--dedicated 16 months ago--now is bitterly called Xanadu, Crystal Palace and Taj Majal. Its atrium is decorated with a waterfall, porticoes--and palm trees that cost $8,500 apiece.

The building also is expensive to clean. Craft Janitorial was getting $1 million a year until it was fired in February amid public outrage.

Since notices of the reevaluation of some 235,000 parcels began going out in February, property owners at raucous meetings have screamed insults at elected officials brave or naive enough to venture out in public. Angry citizens tell amazing stories. John Sweet said his property evaluation jumped from $77,000 to $250,000, for example.

Atlanta’s chest is still stuck out from winning the 1996 Olympics, and it has a reputation for swallowing any amount of expense to look good to outsiders. But enough is enough.

William Boone, chairman of the political science department at Clark Atlanta University, said in the city’s “heyday, when money was plentiful,” taxpayers may have been easier to tax, but for years they have had to make up for lost federal aid to states. The Ronald Reagan years, he said, “are coming home to roost.”

An organization called RIOT, Rollback Increase of Taxes, is planning a rally Wednesday at the Government Center and a march on City Hall and the Atlanta Board of Education in an effort to influence tax rates, which will be set in May.

Instead of raising taxes, officials could “sell the palm trees, sell the artifacts” in Xanadu, said Ruth Wall, a neighborhood activist.

A whole sackful of officials--including Mayor Maynard Jackson--have come in for hefty shares of criticism. But the most virulent protest is reserved for Michael Lomax, chairman of the Fulton County Commission, who briefly opposed Jackson in the 1989 mayoral race.

Mitch Skandalakis, a lawyer and co-leader of the Task Force for Good Government, doesn’t just want to roll back taxes; he wants Lomax’s political head to roll.

Skandalakis, who is researching the state’s recall law, contended, “Whether the recall wins or loses, his career is finished.”

“I was horrified” at the extravagance of the county government center, said Skandalakis. He also doesn’t like it that Craft Janitorial, the cleaning company that offered the high bid and wound up getting the contract, also contributed $10,000 to Lomax’s reelection campaign. The FBI is investigating.

The Lomax situation shows again that, in politics, timing is everything. He got caught in the middle of the cleaning scandal, a recession and the prospect of a tax increase.

Race, as always, has a place in this fracas. Lomax is black and powerful and ensconced in a gorgeous building. So some of his supporters say that is why he is under attack. White critics deny this and point to black tax protesters who scream as loudly as they do.

Lomax shows no signs of resigning, but he clearly is resigned to getting beat up for a while. “Arrogant” is his critics’ favorite club.

Trying to get back on the voters’ good side, Lomax recently vowed to try to hold the line on property taxes and push for cuts in the county’s $356-million annual budget.

“The buck stops here,” he declared, Trumanlike. “It’s easy to lead in good times. It’s tough as hell to lead in bad times.”

That’s an assessment you can take to the bank.