Shining light on the good, bad and ugly of bureaucracy in Florida

By Skip Foster, Red Tape Florida 

Leon County wants to send a delegation to Europe to pursue something ambitious: making Apalachee Regional Park the permanent home of the World Athletics Cross Country Championships. 

Let’s start here: fiscal skepticism is healthy. We appreciate it. Taxpayer dollars deserve scrutiny. 

But there is a time to pinch pennies — and there is a time to press an advantage. 

This looks like the latter. 

Leon County just hosted the 2026 World Athletics Cross Country Championships — the first time the event returned to the United States since 1992. Nearly 500 athletes from 52 countries competed at Apalachee Regional Park. More than 10,000 spectators attended. Broadcast coverage reached over 70 nations. 

Preliminary projections presented to the Board estimate more than $4 million in direct economic impact. 

Notice what that number is not. 

It’s not $40 million. It’s not $75 million. It’s not padded with imaginary multipliers and “lifetime branding value.” 

It’s a grounded, realistic number. And that makes it more credible. 

If anything, given the attendance and international exposure, it may prove conservative when final numbers come in. 

More importantly, this wasn’t a one-off experiment. Apalachee Regional Park has already generated $84 million in direct spending since 2013 through repeat championships and national events. The infrastructure is built. The course is proven. World Athletics President Sebastian Coe publicly called it “the best cross-country course in the world.” 

That is leverage. 

And leverage is something you use. 

The travel being requested is not junketing. It is business development. It is follow-through. It is relationship management at the highest level of an international governing body that controls where future championships are awarded. And there is a chance a deal can be reached even without the travel. 

But, if Leon County believes it can position ARP as the permanent home of this event — the way Omaha became synonymous with the College World Series and Williamsport with the Little League World Series — then this is exactly the moment to lean in. 

The travel cost is estimated to be less than $20,000 and would come from bed tax dollars, not property tax revenue.  

This is what those dollars are for. 

Commissioner Rick Minor was the lone “no” vote on authorizing travel for the Chairman to join staff in upcoming in-person meetings with World Athletics leadership. Minor’s fiscal responsibility is laudable, but he appears to have missed the big picture of investing in a pitch to secure a strong return. 

The County’s visionary approach is in stark contrast with other local approaches to “recognition.” The City of Tallahassee spent roughly $150,000 pursuing All-America City designation — a program that may bring civic pride and a nice plaque, but does not generate recurring tourism revenue, hotel nights, or international broadcast exposure. 

There is nothing inherently wrong with civic awards. But let’s be honest about the difference. 

One strategy produces a press release. 

The other can produce repeat economic activity. 

One is about recognition. 

The other is about recurring business. 

Leon County, under the leadership of County Manager Vince Long and his team, took a former landfill and turned it into one of the most respected cross-country venues in the world. That didn’t happen by accident. It happened through long-term investment and strategic follow-through. 

Trying to lock in permanent-host status is not reckless. It is a calculated extension of a proven success. 

There is always room for debate about travel. There is always room for caution. 

But when you have momentum, international praise, realistic financial projections, and a tourism funding source designed for exactly this purpose — this is not the time to step back. 

It’s time to run through the tape. 

February 20, 2026
By Skip Foster, Red Tape Florida

By Skip Foster, Red Tape Florida 

The Office of Economic Vitality wants you to know that Tallahassee outpaced Florida and the nation in GDP growth last year. 

That’s true. 

The Tallahassee metro grew 4.3 percent in real, inflation-adjusted terms in 2024. 

“GDP is one of the clearest indicators of overall economic activity,” OEV Director Keith Bowers said in yet another pro-OEV email sent via the City of Tallahassee’s email list. 

But here’s the harder question: 

If GDP rises and jobs don’t, which is actually the clearer indicator? 

Because when you open the data — not the press release — the story looks less like “momentum” and more like something very Tallahassee. 

And when you break that 4.7 percent apart, three sectors drove most of it: 

• Real estate and rental and leasing 

• Professional, scientific, and technical services 

• Government 

Yet manufacturing declined sharply in real terms. In fact, while overall GDP rose 4.7 percent in 2024, Leon County’s manufacturing sector contracted by roughly 20 percent in real terms — a stark divergence from the growth narrative. 

(Readers can drill down into the data themselves, here) 

This was not broad-based industrial expansion. 

It was concentrated growth in property, services, and government. 

The rent year 

Real estate and rental and leasing rose roughly 11 percent in 2024 — about $275 million in real value added. 

That single sector accounted for roughly one-third of Leon County’s GDP growth. 

Now here’s what didn’t happen: 

• Real estate jobs did not surge. In fact, employment actually declined slightly. 

• Total payroll barely moved. 

GDP up 11 percent. 
Jobs down. 

That’s not a hiring boom. 

It’s rent. 

Construction rose in 2024 — but by a fraction of the real estate increase. 

In a college town dominated by high-end student housing, this pattern makes sense. 

When new projects are delivered and lease up at premium rents, net operating income rises. GDP rises with it. 

But rising property income is not the same thing as expanding the economic base. If GDP growth is being driven primarily by higher luxury student housing rents in a college town, that deserves explanation — not just celebration. 

Productivity, not hiring 

Professional, scientific, and technical services rose nearly 9 percent in real GDP — about $206 million. 

That sounds like diversification. 

But employment in the sector rose just 1.1 percent — 191 jobs. 

That means output per worker rose sharply. 

Inside the sector, architectural and engineering services added jobs — likely tied to development and infrastructure work. 

Computer systems design saw payroll jump sharply while employment stayed flat — a sign of higher contract value, not workforce expansion. 

Scientific research and development services — where a dramatic university spillover would show up if one existed — grew modestly. 

Again, this was more value generated by roughly the same number of people. 

Which brings us back to OEV’s claim that GDP is the clearest indicator. 

Is it? 

The clearer indicator: jobs 

In prior Red Tape Florida reporting, we’ve shown that Tallahassee’s job growth since 2023 has been flat to weak relative to peers. Employment gains have slowed materially. The region has struggled to generate sustained private-sector job expansion. 

If GDP rises 4.7 percent and employment rises roughly 1 percent, then real GDP per job rises roughly 3–4 percent. 

That means the economy produced more output per existing worker. 

That is not nothing. 

But it is not the same as: 

• More residents employed. 

• More families earning paychecks. 

• A broader tax base. 

• A more diversified private sector. 

GDP measures value added. 

Jobs measure participation. 

If the goal is long-term economic vitality, job growth is often the more direct indicator of whether an economy is expanding its base. 

A year where real estate value added rises, professional services bill more per worker, government grows steadily, and manufacturing contracts is not a transformational year. 

There is one more structural piece of this story that cannot be ignored. 

And, of course, government growth drove GDP 

One other major contributor to 2024 GDP growth deserves attention: government. 

Real (inflation-adjusted) government value added in Leon County rose roughly 3.75 percent in 2024 — an increase of about $169 million in real terms, according to BEA’s county GDP data. 

That makes government one of the top three contributors to overall GDP growth last year. 

And here’s the critical point: 

GDP counts government output the same way it counts private-sector output. 

If public payroll rises, if state agencies expand operations, if public enterprises generate more activity … GDP rises. 

That’s how the metric works. 

But in a state-capital economy like Tallahassee, that distinction matters. 

Growth driven by: 

• Property income, 

• higher billings in professional services, 

• and government value added … 

… is structurally different from growth driven by new export industries, manufacturing expansion, or sustained private-sector hiring. 

In prior Red Tape Florida reporting, we’ve shown that job growth has slowed materially since 2023 and that private-sector expansion has been uneven at best. 

Against that backdrop, a year where government and property are major drivers of GDP growth doesn’t signal diversification. 

It signals reinforcement of the existing model. 

That may produce a strong headline. 

But it’s not the same thing as economic transformation. 

The bottom line 

The ranking doesn’t change the structure 

Yes, Tallahassee ranked near the top of Florida metros in 2024 GDP growth. But ranking doesn’t change composition. 

The 4.3 percent headline is accurate. But the clearer indicator of where Tallahassee stands may not be GDP. It may be job growth.  

We don’t blame OEV for highlighting positive metrics. But rankings and selective statistics can’t change the underlying reality: 

• OEV hasn’t announced a new job project since 2024. 

• Out-of-town prospects describe a bureaucratic process that caused them to take their business elsewhere. 

• OEV’s own metrics show a loss of jobs since 2022 

And, as we’ve said before, the performance is much more about a flawed structure, than poor leadership or performance. 

All the rankings and stats and the world can’t change the fact that Tallahassee is not seeing growth in manufacturing, new business and jobs. 

The best that can be extrapolated from GDP numbers touted by OEV is that In 2024, Tallahassee had a strong year for asset income, higher billings and the growth of government. 

That is optimization. 

Transformation looks different. 

Until job growth reflects it, GDP alone is not the clearest indicator. 

February 16, 2026
By Skip Foster, Red Tape Florida 

Special to Red Tape Florida 

By Samuel R. Staley, Ph.D., Director, DeVoe L. Moore Institute, Florida State University 

To our readers: The following are written comments provided by Dr. Staley to the Florida Senate, Committee on Community Affairs on December 9, 2025 

Florida faces a chronic housing shortage that has significant implications for affordability, economic competitiveness, and quality of life. Housing demand continues to outstrip supply at both the state and local levels. 

To better understand the implications of these trends, the DeVoe L. Moore Center commissioned an econometric analysis of housing demand and supply at statewide and county levels. The analysis estimates that Florida faces a chronic shortage of at least 55,000 rental housing units and 66,000 owner units. These estimates are likely a lower bound. The American Enterprise Institute Housing Center estimates that Florida is short approximately 486,000 homes, requiring additions equivalent to about five percent of the state’s current housing stock to restore equilibrium. 

The shortage is persistent and widespread. Sixty-one of Florida’s 67 counties face chronic housing shortages. More than 90 percent of counties show shortages in owner-occupied housing, and more than 80 percent face shortages in rental housing. 

This deficit has been a long time in the making. Beginning with the 2008 financial crisis, housing permits have failed to keep pace with Florida’s population and household growth. The cumulative result is a substantial housing gap. 

The implications for affordability are significant. As the state continues to attract new residents and households, the inability to provide the right kind of housing in the right place at the right time contributes to a housing mismatch. This mismatch places upward pressure on rents and sale prices and constrains mobility within the housing market. 

Regulation and land-use policy play an important role in this outcome. 

Florida adopted statewide growth management in 1985, mandating detailed local comprehensive planning and land-use regulation. The law required long-term land-use planning according to state priorities rather than market demand. Empirical research found that housing prices increased faster in communities subject to longer periods under the Growth Management Act, contributing significantly to rising prices during its implementation. 

Subsequent reforms reduced state compliance requirements, but local land-use planning and regulatory systems remain intact. Lengthy and uncertain approval processes for rezoning and development permits influence the ability of the private housing market to respond to shifting demand. The effects of regulatory delay and uncertainty on housing supply and affordability are well established in academic research. 

Local governments vary widely in how they apply growth management rules. Differences in impact fees, development conditions, and approval timelines create financial uncertainty and reduce profit margins for builders. As profit margins narrow, builders shift toward higher-income housing segments. Lower-margin segments — including workforce and “missing middle” housing — become less financially viable. 

As private developers reduce activity in these segments, the housing market becomes less robust. Florida is not building housing at a sufficient scale to allow filtering to operate effectively across income levels. 

Reforming local growth management and land-use regulation is therefore a crucial step toward restoring market resilience. The role of the state in facilitating this reform, however, requires careful consideration. 

Since 2010, Florida has largely delegated growth-management responsibilities to municipalities and counties. In principle, local governments are closer to residents and better positioned to respond to community concerns. In practice, however, land development and redevelopment processes have become highly politicized. Detailed zoning maps and discretionary approvals can transform routine land-use adjustments into political contests rather than evidence-based decisions. 

The state can proactively address housing shortages by adjusting incentives faced by local governments. 

One approach would be to prioritize housing within comprehensive plans and hold local governments accountable for meeting measurable housing objectives. Comprehensive plans often contain numerous elements competing for attention, and housing can become secondary to other priorities. Incentivizing measurable production goals could elevate housing as a central planning objective. 

A second reform would focus development review on tangible and measurable impacts rather than generalized or aesthetic objections. Narrowing the grounds for delay and tying approvals to objective standards would reduce uncertainty and increase accountability. 

A third reform would improve transparency and consistency in estimating impact fees. Impact fees contribute to higher housing costs, and wide variation in methodologies increases financial uncertainty. Ensuring that fees are clearly tied to actual infrastructure costs would improve predictability and reduce barriers to supply. 

Beyond these state-level initiatives, local regulatory flexibility can increase housing responsiveness. Reducing minimum lot sizes, permitting administrative lot splits, and allowing accessory dwelling units (ADUs) can unlock incremental supply without dramatically altering neighborhood character. 

ADUs, in particular, provide one of the least intrusive methods of increasing housing supply. Adding a unit over a garage or within the footprint of an existing home can improve financial sustainability for homeowners, expand options for residents in transition, and enhance mobility within the housing ladder while minimizing infrastructure impacts. 

Florida’s housing shortage is chronic and of sufficient scale that policymakers should focus less on building for specific segments and more on enabling abundant housing across the board. Only by substantially increasing the supply of housing — both owner-occupied and rental — can price pressures moderate and affordability improve. 

Florida has previously achieved periods of strong housing production when regulatory systems were more responsive to market demand. Restoring housing market resilience will require sustained attention to regulatory predictability, accountability, and supply flexibility. 

The path forward is not complicated: create a more responsive and resilient housing market where builders and developers can sustain investment across the full range of housing products. Doing so is essential to maintaining Florida’s quality of life and economic competitiveness. 

Dr. Sam Staley is director of the DeVoe Moore Institute at Florida State University and is one of the state’s most respected voices on housing policy.

February 13, 2026
By Samuel R. Staley, Ph.D., Director, DeVoe L. Moore Institute, Florida State University

By Skip Foster, Red Tape Florida 

Temple Terrace recently provided a textbook example of how fragile local permitting systems become when basic backup plans exist only on paper — or worse, only in emails. 

A homeowner needed a straightforward, safety-driven modification: converting a bathtub to a walk-in shower. The permit was submitted through a private provider, a process explicitly allowed under Florida law and intended to keep projects moving efficiently. 

Even before the vacation delay, the private provider says the application faced resistance — including being told to deliver materials in person rather than electronically and to use city-specific forms not required by state law. 

The application was submitted on May 25, 2025. 

Then the City of Temple Terrace’s building official, Dallas Foss, went on vacation — and the permitting system effectively went with him. 

What followed was not a minor delay or a paperwork hiccup, but a breakdown in authority that left contractors, residents, and even other government agencies trying to figure out who was actually in charge. 

According to multiple emails from Temple Terrace’s permitting office, Hillsborough County was serving as the acting building official during Mr. Foss’s absence.  

In one, Temple Terrace “permitting coordinator” Candace Willoughby, in an email obtained by Red Tape Florida, wrote to a building inspector on June 6 that “Mr. Foss is on vacation. We are using Hillsborough County BO.” 

Contractors were told the county was “covering” and that work would continue. 

There was only one problem. 

Hillsborough County had no idea. 

In a June 4 email, Hillsborough County Executive Manager Heather A. Tank, PE, put it plainly: 

“I believe there has been some confusion into the regard that Hillsborough County is assisting Temple Terrace. Hillsborough County is not acting as Building Official and can not make decisions for Temple Terrace. We are a resource to assist if the Temple Terrace staff has any questions.” 

That clarification came days after contractors had already been told otherwise by Temple Terrace staff. 

The building official acknowledged the delay and apologized. City leadership later conceded that “we could have done better.” 

But the episode raises a more uncomfortable question: what actually happened here? 

Temple Terrace told applicants that Hillsborough County was “covering.” Hillsborough County says, in writing, that it was not. No formal backup agreement, interlocal arrangement, or delegated authority has been produced. 

That leaves two possibilities. Either the city misunderstood its own coverage plan — or coverage was represented as existing when it did not. 

The private provider also contends that Temple Terrace required procedures beyond what state law permits, including rejecting the standard state notice form and requiring inspections to be “scheduled” rather than simply noticed. Florida’s private-provider statute limits local governments from imposing requirements more stringent than those prescribed by state law. If accurate, that raises a separate compliance question. 

This case surfaced only because the contractor pushed back and escalated. Most homeowners don’t. If one permit submitted on May 25 sat untouched until June 16 because a single official was out, it’s reasonable to ask how many others quietly stalled during the same period. 

Florida’s permitting laws assume continuity. Permits are not supposed to pause because one person is on vacation. Yet in Temple Terrace, authority appears to have been so centralized — and so poorly documented — that a routine safety project effectively shut down. 

That’s not just inefficient. It’s a governance failure. 

When a city tells applicants that another government entity is providing coverage — and that entity later says it isn’t — trust erodes quickly. Mixed messages don’t just slow projects; they undermine confidence in the system itself. 

This isn’t an argument against taking vacations. It’s an argument against pretending coverage exists when it doesn’t. 

Temple Terrace says it is addressing the issue. That’s welcome. But the lesson applies far beyond one city. 

When authority is unclear, delays aren’t accidents — they’re inevitable. And waiting weeks for a bureaucrat to return from vacation is not an acceptable outcome for residents trying to make their homes safer. 

February 10, 2026
By Skip Foster, Red Tape Florida 

By Skip Foster, Red Tape Florida 

When governments are proud of their economic performance, they show residents jobs. 

When they’re not, they show rankings. 

That’s the only way to understand the City of Tallahassee Office of Economic Vitality’s Feb. 4 communiqué declaring that Tallahassee-Leon County’s economy is “building momentum” and that “the numbers show it.”  

The OEV narrative that follows is not a serious economic analysis. It is a carefully assembled propaganda piece designed to distract from a stubborn and embarrassing reality: by OEV’s own data, Tallahassee is not growing — it is stagnating, and in some cases going backward. 

Start with the rankings — because that’s where the deception begins. 

OEV leads with a glowing national ranking from Area Development magazine, breathlessly announcing that Tallahassee-Leon County placed 16th overall among nearly 1,000metropolitan and micropolitan areas. That sounds impressive until you understand what this ranking actually rewards. 

Area Development’s index is a blended soup of more than two dozen indicators, many of which favor government-heavy economies, long-term averages, and institutional stability. Tallahassee’s enormous state-government footprint, universities, and healthcare systems prop up these scores even when private-sector job creation is anemic. 

In plain English: Tallahassee ranks well because it is stable — not because it is growing. 

That distinction is not an accident. It is the entire point of using rankings instead of outcomes. 

Next comes the “workforce strength” sleight of hand. 

OEV touts a top-20 national ranking for “Prime Workforce” performance, citing wage growth, labor-force trends, and STEM employment shares. What the release never explains is where these jobs are actually coming from. 

Much of Tallahassee’s wage growth mirrors national inflation and public-sector pay adjustments, not a competitive private market. Meanwhile, counting the share of STEM workers is meaningless when the region continues to struggle to attract the private employers who would hire them. A “strong workforce” that must leave town to thrive is not a strength — it’s a failure. 

Then comes perhaps the most unintentionally revealing boast of all. 

OEV proudly notes that roughly one-third of workers employed in Tallahassee-Leon County commute in from surrounding counties, framing this as evidence that Tallahassee is a powerful regional employment hub. In reality, this is not a flex. It’s a flashing warning light. 

While growing a regional economy is a laudable goal, high inbound commuting often signals that the core city is failing to generate enough well-paid resident workers to support household formation and long-term wealth creation. Tallahassee captures labor during the day and exports wages, homeownership, and tax base at night. 

The American Planning Association’s PAS Report on jobs–housing balance explains that when communities have a persistent mismatch between where jobs are and where workers can afford to live, the result is longer commutes and higher household transportation costs — and those costs can erase or outweigh wage gains, while also increasing regional congestion and infrastructure burdens 

A thriving economy retains its workers. It doesn’t rent them. 

But the most glaring omission in OEV’s entire release is the one statistic it absolutely refuses to confront: its own jobs data, as revealed in a recent Red Tape Florida story.  

According to OEV’s own employment chart, Leon County had roughly 159,000 jobs in late 2022. By late 2025, that number had fallen to about 158,000. That is not momentum. That is net job loss — quietly buried beneath glossy language and national rankings. 

To paper over this failure, OEV resorts to one of the oldest tricks in the economic-development spin book: anchoring job growth to April 2020, when pandemic shutdowns collapsed employment. Starting from the bottom of a once-in-a-century economic shutdown allows almost any community to claim dramatic “growth.” 

Recovery is not success. Rebounding is not momentum. And Tallahassee’s post-pandemic performance remains weak even by that generous standard. 

The Florida Chamber of Commerce, using the same federal data OEV selectively cites, reported that Leon County lost more than 4,000 jobs year-over-year — a fact OEV dismisses because it is inconvenient, not because it is wrong. 

And here’s the most telling detail of all: in 2025, OEV did not announce a single new economic-development project that added jobs. Not one. No relocations. No expansions. No headline wins. Just rankings, rankings, rankings. 

The release closes with optimism about real-estate “prospects,” citing a national perception survey showing improved sentiment among investors. Sentiment, however, does not build office space. Surveys do not sign paychecks. And optimism does not create private-sector jobs. 

Perhaps Tallahassee-Leon’s job numbers would be better if OEV spent less time on self-congratulatory rankings report and more time on actually recruiting new business to our community. 

Tallahassee residents do not live inside rankings. 

They live inside paychecks. Inside housing costs. Inside career ceilings. Inside a local economy that has spent years confusing institutional stability with economic success. 

Until the city is willing to show honest, current job numbers — without pandemic baselines, without composite rankings, and without propaganda — talk of “momentum” is not analysis. 

It’s marketing. And it’s insulting. 

February 5, 2026
By Skip Foster, Red Tape Florida 

By Skip Foster, Red Tape Florida 

Siesta Key is a rounding error in Sarasota County’s population statistics. But when it comes to paying the county’s tourism bills, it is one of the largest contributors by far. 

In a typical year, roughly one out of every four tourist-development tax dollars collected in Sarasota County comes off Siesta Key. That translates to around $13 million annually flowing from a barrier island that represents about 1.4 percent of the county’s permanent population and roughly 4 percent of its housing units. 

That imbalance alone should prompt a basic question: where does the money go? 

The answer is increasingly uncomfortable for county leaders — and increasingly relevant as Siesta Key property owners face tighter development restrictions, slower rebuilding approvals, and a growing political culture that celebrates saying “no” to redevelopment. 

Start with the raw numbers. In fiscal year 2024, Sarasota County collected just over $48 million in tourist-development taxes, commonly known as the bed tax. Of that total, Siesta Key generated approximately 26.8 percent — the single largest share of any location in the county, ahead of even the City of Sarasota. Even after Hurricanes Helene and Milton temporarily knocked some accommodations offline, Siesta’s share in early fiscal year 2025 still hovered around 22 to 23 percent. 

This is not a small contribution from a large place. It is a massive contribution from a very small one. 

Yet most of those dollars are not reinvested on Siesta Key in any visible or proportional way. County policy sends bed-tax revenues into broad, countywide buckets: beach maintenance and renourishment across the entire coastline; marketing and promotion handled centrally; sports facilities and stadium debt; arts and cultural grants; and large capital projects like Nathan Benderson Park and other mainland amenities. 

In plain terms, Siesta Key functions as a revenue engine whose output is largely spent elsewhere. 

That imbalance is no longer theoretical — it is now playing out in real time at the County Commission. 

Earlier this month, the Sarasota County Commission agreed to convene a half-day public workshop on Feb. 11 to discuss a proposed Siesta Key “beautification” initiative, following repeated requests from commissioners to move the issue up on the county’s 2026 strategic agenda. The workshop — framed by county staff as largely a listening session — comes after a new Siesta Key Beautification Alliance sought a $30 million county investment to repair and upgrade island infrastructure damaged by Hurricanes Helene and Milton.  

Commissioners acknowledged both the island’s central role in generating tourist-development tax revenue and its deteriorating post-storm conditions, but stopped short of committing funding, citing looming budget gaps, revenue uncertainty, and broader countywide priorities. 

This matters because, at the same time, county officials and activists routinely boast about blocking development and redevelopment on the Key — even in areas that have long been zoned for commercial or multi-family. The message to property owners is that restriction itself is a virtue, regardless of zoning, storm damage, or economic impact. 

That posture is easy to maintain when someone else is paying the bills. 

Tourist-development taxes are not abstract dollars. They come directly from visitors renting rooms, condos, and vacation properties — the same properties now caught in a regulatory vise. When rebuilding is delayed, discouraged, or made economically infeasible, the revenue stream county government relies on is put at risk. 

The irony is hard to miss. The county depends on Siesta Key’s tourism economy to fund beach work, marketing campaigns, sports venues, and mainland projects — yet increasingly treats the island itself as a place where development should be frozen in amber. 

This is not an argument for reckless building or ignoring flood risk. It is an argument for honesty and proportionality. 

If Siesta Key generates roughly a quarter of Sarasota County’s bed-tax revenue, residents and property owners are justified in asking why so little of that investment visibly returns to the island itself. Why is it acceptable for Siesta to subsidize stadium debt, regional parks, and countywide promotion, while being told that responsible redevelopment on the Key is somehow a threat to the public good? 

The question becomes even sharper after storms. Hurricanes don’t just damage buildings; they test whether local governments are serious about resilience. Rebuilding to modern standards, elevating structures, and replacing outdated, non-compliant buildings all cost money and require regulatory cooperation. When those efforts are slowed or blocked, the long-term risk — both physical and financial — increases. 

That contribution should buy a seat at the table. 

This story is not about one variance request or one development fight. It is about a structural imbalance that has gone largely unexamined: a small community generating an outsized share of public revenue, while being politically rewarded with restrictions rather than reinvestment. 

Siesta Key’s tourism economy has helped carry Sarasota County through downturns, disasters, and budget cycles. It is doing so again now, even as storm impacts temporarily reduce capacity. That should buy more than rhetorical gratitude. It should buy a serious, good-faith examination of how county policies affect the people and properties that generate this revenue. 

In the weeks ahead, Red Tape Florida will examine how these financial realities intersect with Sarasota County’s permitting and rebuilding decisions on Siesta Key — and what that means for recovery, property owners, and the long-term resilience of the county’s tourism economy. 

For now, the numbers tell a simple story. Siesta Key pays the bill. Sarasota County decides how to spend it. And the people footing the bill are starting to ask harder questions. 

January 26, 2026
By Skip Foster, Red Tape Florida

Opinion by Skip Foster, Red Tape Florida 

At the Greater Tallahassee Chamber of Commerce annual breakfast this week, new Chair Eddie Gonzalez Loumiet delivered exactly the kind of message this community needs right now. Be bold. Be positive. Be innovative. Stop thinking small. 

That challenge applies across Tallahassee’s economy. But there may be no place where it applies more urgently — or more visibly — than Tallahassee International Airport. 

For years, we’ve heard about “leakage”: residents and visitors driving to Jacksonville, Orlando, or other airports to save money or gain access to better flight options. We study it. We lament it. We pass subsidy programs meant to lure airlines. 

And yet leakage persists. 

Here’s the uncomfortable truth. You don’t beat leakage by pretending Tallahassee can out-Atlanta Atlanta or out-Orlando Orlando. You beat leakage by making flying out of Tallahassee so attractive and convenient that bypassing it feels irrational. 

That requires a shift in mindset. Less airline-first. More passenger-first. 

Start with the simplest, boldest move 

Free parking at TLH 

The city currently collects roughly $6 million a year in airport parking revenue, while simultaneously seeking subsidies to airlines in hopes of adding or retaining routes. In other words, we charge our own residents and visitors to fund incentives for someone else. 

That’s backwards. 

Free parking instantly lowers the cost and stress of choosing TLH. It sends a clear signal that Tallahassee values convenience and respects travelers’ time. It makes the local airport the default choice, not the one you talk yourself into after doing math. 

Free parking shouldn’t be an incentive. It should be the baseline. 

Move to all-local vendors 

Every traveler has seen the tired airport gift shop — the same mugs, the same shirts, the same forgettable clutter. 

TLH should do the opposite. 

Why not intentionally recruit local businesses to fill those spaces, even if it means accepting lower rent or breaking even? Imagine browsing books from Midtown Reader before boarding. Coffee from Lucky Goat, Red Eye, or Ground Ops. Breakfast offerings from Canopy Road or Earley’s. Local brands, local pride, and local confidence. 

The point isn’t maximizing concession revenue. It’s maximizing loyalty and identity. The airport is the first and last impression of a city. Right now, TLH doesn’t look like Tallahassee. It should. 

Speaking of local vendors, the amount of local art that could be displayed at the airport is endless – it should be constantly rotating in and out. 

Create a sense of urgency on behalf of customers 

Fast retrieval of luggage should be the highest priority. Communicate to customers a target time for luggage delivery. Then, measure it. Then publish the results. Then work on maintaining good numbers and improving poor ones.  

Add more generic EV charges 

They are overallocated to Tesla’s, which are losing market share. No electric vehicle should ever be unable to charge while parking at TLH. 

Lean into early mornings instead of ignoring them 

Early morning departures are a fact of life at TLH. Instead of pretending otherwise, design around them. 

Offer free local coffee for one hour — from 5:00 to 6:00 a.m. Partner with Tallahassee roasters. It’s inexpensive, humane, and unforgettable to anyone navigating the terminal half-awake.If somebody wants a fancy latte, they can pay for that, but a plain cup o’ joe is on the house. 

Small gestures matter most when people are tired, stressed, and short on time. 

Communicate like a service, not a press office 

When flights are delayed by weather or TSA lines back up, travelers don’t just want information. They want clarity, reassurance, and honesty. 

That means investing in communications as a core service. 

Tallahassee should have an airport app that actually matters. Live parking availability. TSA wait times. Gate changes. Weather explanations in plain English. Push alerts when things change. 

Many TLH flights leave very early in the morning. Design for that reality. Between 4:30 and 7:00 a.m., the app should default to a calm, simplified mode: gate confirmation, boarding countdown, coffee availability. No clutter. No guesswork. 

And for those picking people up, offer a simple but transformative feature: text alerts for wheels-down, baggage carousel start, and passenger exit. Less circling. Less congestion. Less frustration. 

Compete on care, not scale 

Tallahassee will never win a volume contest with Orlando or a route contest with Atlanta. That’s fine. 

What TLH can win is the experience contest. 

It can be the easiest airport in Florida to use. The least stressful. The most honest. The one that respects your time and treats you like a neighbor, not a transaction. 

And it’s not like it hasn’t been done before: 

Portland built a national reputation by showcasing local businesses and requiring street pricing, and Jacksonville – one of TLH’s prime competitors — is rewarding travelers with free parking through a frequent parker program 

Leakage doesn’t disappear because of one new route or one more subsidy vote. It disappears when enough people decide, again and again, that flying out of Tallahassee is simply the smartest, fastest and most pleasant option. 

Eddie Gonzalez Loumiet challenged Tallahassee to be bold. Making TLH a truly passenger-first airport would be a great place to start. 

January 16, 2026
Opinion by Skip Foster, Red Tape Florida 

By Skip Foster, Red Tape Florida 

Let’s dispense with the fiction. 

Tallahassee CRA officials, the day after Red Tape Florida reported on the issue, pulled a $750,000 grant request after acknowledging they could not support the project if the new building became a medical marijuana dispensary. 

One problem: The applicant is a cannabis real estate company. 

Not metaphorically. Not incidentally. Openly. 

WeWould REIT describes itself on its homepage as a Florida-focused cannabis equity REIT, complete with a prominent image of a cannabis plant and multiple pages devoted to cannabis-specific investments. 

Yet the proposal advanced through the CRA process as a generic retail project — complete with a colorful building rendering labeled “food.” 

According to Stephen Cox, the CRA’s executive director, the item was pulled only after staff concluded they could not recommend approval if the developer intended to lease the space to a dispensary. “We had a conversation with the owner, and he couldn’t guarantee that a dispensary wasn’t on the table,” Cox told the Tallahassee Democrat. 

That explanation raises a far more basic problem than zoning or community preference. Either CRA staff knew they were advancing a grant application from a cannabis-focused real estate company, or they advanced a $750,000 public subsidy without performing even minimal due diligence. There is no third option. 

This is the bureaucratic equivalent of telling a police officer that your friend said the bag he handed you was just home-grown oregano. 

A quick tour of WeWould REIT’s own website makes the point unavoidable. Its homepage identifies the firm as a cannabis equity REIT. Its “Our Focus” page is devoted entirely to cannabis real estate. Its portfolio highlights properties acquired, developed, or leased for cannabis uses. Its “About Us” section frames the company’s mission around serving the cannabis industry and navigating its regulatory and capital challenges.

 

Cannabis is not a side possibility. Cannabis is the business. 

This is the company CRA staff later said “couldn’t guarantee” a dispensary wouldn’t be part of the project. 

Which raises a question that should concern every taxpayer in a CRA district. 

What exactly is the threshold for due diligence? 

Because this was not the product of in-depth investigative journalism. It did not require subpoenas, records requests, or forensic accounting. It required typing the applicant’s name into a browser. 

Yet a 127-page grant application was assembled, packaged, placed on an agenda and nearly sent to a citizen advisory committee as a generic retail project, while the applicant’s core business model was treated as an afterthought. 

Cox acknowledged that staff had previously discussed with the developer that a dispensary would “be looked negatively by the community” and that CRA staff “would not be able to give a recommendation for approval from the staff perspective” if that were the use. 

In other words, CRA leadership understood that a marijuana dispensary was a live possibility — yet the proposal still moved forward without that issue being resolved or clearly disclosed. 

CRA staff advanced a proposal framed as “retail,” showcased a rendering labeled “food,” and confined the only clear references to a medical marijuana dispensary to page 52 and page 114 of technical attachments. 

Only after the Red Tape Florida story prompted resident calls did staff pull the item. 

“We spoke with him and said, ‘Look, if you’re trying to do something like that, that’s definitely not going to fly,’” Cox said of the dispensary use. “You can still build it, but as far as assistance goes, that’s not going to be something that we would be in favor of.” 

That may be true. But it is not reassuring. 

If CRA staff did not know this was a cannabis real estate company, that is a failure of basic competence. 

If they did know and chose to soft-pedal it in public materials, that is a failure of transparency. 

Either way, the public deserves better than a shrug and a pulled agenda item. 

That’s not redevelopment — just like it’s never oregano in the plastic bag. 

January 14, 2026
By Skip Foster, Red Tape Florida 

By Skip Foster, Red Tape Florida 

The City of Tallahassee’s 2025 Year in Review is glossy, upbeat, and brimming with accomplishments. It reads like a government that is busy, credentialed, and proud of itself. 

In some respects, that pride is justified. In others, it’s doing a lot of work to distract from questions City Hall would rather not answer. 

This is not a point-by-point rebuttal of every bullet in the document. Some things genuinely deserve credit. Others sound impressive until you ask the one question the Year in Review consistently avoids: compared to what? 

Let’s start where credit is due. 

Where the City actually earns it 

Parks and quality of life 
Tallahassee’s parks, tree canopy, and access to green space are real assets. They matter. They affect daily life. They are one of the few areas where Tallahassee truly punches above its weight. The City deserves credit for protecting and expanding them. 

This is not spin. It’s substance. 

Community programming 
Senior Games participation, neighborhood events, and civic initiatives help explain why people like living here even when they’re frustrated with everything else. These programs aren’teconomic development and don’t need to be. They succeed on their own terms. 

The problem begins when City Hall quietly slides from celebrating livability into declaring itself one of the best-run cities in Florida — as if the former automatically proves the latter. 

Claims that do real rhetorical work — and deserve scrutiny 

“Best-run city in Florida” and All-America City recognition 

What the City says: Tallahassee was named a 2025 All-America City and ranked the best-run city in Florida. 

What that actually means: The All-America City designation, awarded by the National Civic League, recognizes civic engagement and collaboration based largely on narrative applications. It does not measure wage growth, housing affordability, service speed, or economic outcomes. 

The “best-run” label comes from a WalletHub ranking that compares the scope of services to budget per capita. Translation: cities with larger governments and larger budgets can score well even if residents feel nickel-and-dimed, stuck in process, or priced out. 

What’s also true — and rarely mentioned: Through a public-records request, Red Tape Florida obtained documents showing that the City of Tallahassee spent approximately $130,000 preparing and submitting its All-America City application. That figure doesn’t even include staff time devoted to the effort — hours the City acknowledged were not tracked. 

In other words, this was not a spontaneous external validation. It was a competitive, resource-intensive bid, funded by taxpayers, with no accounting of the full internal cost. 

What’s missing:  
— Any discussion of cost versus benefit 
— Any disclosure of staff time diverted from core functions 
— Any evidence that household fundamentals improved as a result 

Awards feel less like independent validation when they come with a six-figure application budget and an uncounted amount of staff time. 

Crime reduction 

What the City says: Violent crime down 6.18 percent year-over-year and more than 30 percent over “the last couple of years.” 

What that actually means: A favorable slice of time following a nationwide crime spike. Possibly real progress. Possibly regression to the mean. Impossible to tell from what’spresented. 

What’s missing: 
— Raw incident counts 
— Population-adjusted rates 
— Multi-year trends 
— Neighborhood-level data 
— Any comparison to similar Florida cities 

If crime reduction is the crown jewel, show the jewels. Percentages without baselines are comfort food, not accountability. 

Economic development and jobs 

What the City says: More than 18,000 new jobs over five years. Conferences hosted. Awards received. Dashboards launched. 

What that actually means: Five-year aggregates hide churn and allow for larger numbers. Fewer than 4,000 jobs added per year is also true and far less encouraging. Conferences and awards document activity, not employer wins. Dashboards document motion, not outcomes. 

What’s missing (and this is the big one) 
— Net new jobs by year 
— Wage levels of new jobs 
— Median household income trends 
— Net migration of working-age residents 
— A simple list of major relocations or expansions 

This omission matters because prior Red Tape Florida reporting has already shown a consistent pattern: extensive economic-development storytelling paired with very few documented private-sector wins. The Year in Review does nothing to rebut that. It reinforces it. 

If job growth were truly transformative, residents wouldn’t need to be told. They’d feel it in paychecks, rents, and opportunity. 

Construction and capital spending 

What the City says: More than $350 million in active construction projects. 

What that actually means: The City spent money. Much of it public money. On things it already owns. 

What’s missing: 
— On-time and on-budget performance 
— Change orders 
— Long-term operating costs 
— Private investment leveraged 
— New taxable value created 

Capital spending is not growth. It’s maintenance, replacement, and occasionally expansion. Treating dollar totals as success is a classic municipal tell. 

Housing and permitting 

What the City says: Permits or reviews issued for 548 affordable housing units. 

What that actually means: Paper moved. 

What’s missing 
— Units actually built 
— Units actually occupied 
— Affordability levels and duration 
— Public subsidy per unit 
— End-to-end permitting timelines 
— Comparison to peer cities 

Red Tape Florida has documented repeatedly how time delays and layered reviews drive up costs. The Year in Review avoids that discussion entirely — while quietly counting approvals as victories. 

Dashboards and accountability 

What the City says: 133 initiatives tracked across seven priority areas. 

What that actually means: A government that does many things and measures most of them vaguely. 

What’s missing: 
— Outcome metrics versus process metrics 
— Baselines and targets 
— What happens when goals are missed 
— Data that can be downloaded and scrutinized 

When everything is a priority, nothing is. A dashboard can clarify performance or obscure it. This one leans toward the latter. 

Fiscal stewardship and bond ratings 

What the City says: AA bond ratings across all categories. 

What that actually means: Creditworthiness. The ability to borrow. 

What’s missing 
— Debt per capita trends 
— Fee and utility cost growth 
— Government staffing growth versus population 
— Whether residents are paying more for the same services 

Bond ratings tell investors the City is a safe bet. They do not tell residents they’re getting a good deal. 

The omission that ties it all together 

What’s striking about the Year in Review isn’t any single exaggeration. It’s the systematic absence of the metrics that actually determine whether a city is thriving: 

— Median income 
— Wage competitiveness 
— Housing affordability 
— Permit approval timelines 
— Private-sector job quality 
— Comparison to peer Florida cities 

And our personal favorite: airport traffic. 

Those numbers exist. The City simply chose not to show them. 

Conclusion 

Tallahassee has real strengths. Parks. Green space. Civic culture. Dedicated public employees. None of that needs to be diminished. 

But a Year in Review that leans on awards, activity, and spending while avoiding outcome-level scrutiny is not a report card. It’s a highlight reel. 

If City Hall, under Reese Goad, wants residents to believe Tallahassee is one of the best-run cities in Florida, it should stop asking them to admire the trophies and start showing them the math. 

That’s not negativity. That’s governance. 

January 14, 2026
By Skip Foster, Red Tape Florida 

By Red Tape Florida 

The Tallahassee Community Redevelopment Agency quietly pulled a proposed $750,000 Southside construction grant from its advisory board agenda Monday night after Red Tape Florida exposed that the project was intended to subsidize a marijuana dispensary — a fact not clearly disclosed in the public-facing materials. 

According to reporting by WTXL, the CRA item tied to a redevelopment project at 115 West Harrison Street was removed from consideration following public comment questioning both the use and the transparency of the grant. 

That concern echoes a prior Red Tape Florida investigation, which found that while the CRA agenda summary described the project in generic terms — emphasizing “retail” and redevelopment — the applicant’s own documents revealed a different story. Buried deep in the attachments, including an appraisal section beginning on page 52, the intended use of the property was identified as a medical marijuana dispensary, with further confirmation later in the application. 

In other words, the key word never appeared in the summary committee members and the public would reasonably rely on — only in dense supporting materials few would ever read. 

Residents speaking at the meeting made clear that the objection was not to redevelopment writ large, but to the idea that tax-increment dollars intended for Southside revitalization could be used to subsidize a cannabis retail operation, particularly without clear disclosure up front. 

It is unclear if the item will return at a later date, but the episode underscores a recurring concern with the City of Tallahassee Community Redevelopment Agency: critical project details disclosed only after public scrutiny, not before. 

For now, the $750,000 grant remains off the table — and the dispensary question remains unanswered. 

January 13, 2026
By Red Tape Florida