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

How Tallahassee’s airport capital improvement fund subsidized friendlier coverage for the mayor and his pals – and attacks on his foes 

If you only read the headlines, you’d think the great ethics scandal in Tallahassee was… an unpaid hospital board volunteer making a campaign contribution. 

That’s the breathless premise of Tallahassee Reports’ Oct. 29 piece “TMH Board Member Donates to Matlow Campaign During TMH-FSU Negotiations.” The target: Sally Bradshaw — a longtime civic figure serving on the TMH board without compensation — whose family donated $3,000 to Jeremy Matlow’s campaign while TMH and FSU sparred over governance … a full five months after Matlow expressed opposition to the TMH-FSU deal.  

TR framed the timing as suspicious. Here’s what it left out: Bradshaw didn’t gain a job, a contract, or any personal benefit. She is — literally — an unpaid volunteer trying to keep the community’s hospital accountable to the community. She has donated hundreds of hours to the cause, all while trying to run a local independent bookstore in the middle of an expansion. 

Meanwhile, there’s a different money story Tallahassee should be talking about: the years-long pipeline of public dollars quietly routed to the nonprofit behind Tallahassee Reports — and how TR’s posture toward City Hall shifted right when those payments started. 

Follow the money  

Let’s pause the narrative and walk through the paper trail.

• City of Tallahassee checkbook: recurring payments to the Red Hills Journalism Foundation (TR’s nonprofit), tagged to program areas like Marketing & Promotions and Energy Efficiency & DSM. 
• Fund source revelation: within the City ledger, the “Fund Name” field shows Airport RR&I Fund and Electric RR&I Fund — restricted capital funds intended for runway and grid maintenance, not underwriting news coverage. (RR&I stands for renewal, replacement and improvement). 
• Leon County ledger: from 2020–2025, Leon County paid the Red Hills Journalism Foundation monthly (mostly $700–$750), coded to Community & Media Relation. 

Even Blueprint dollars went to Stewart, for purposes and reasons that aren’t fully clear.  

In other words: airport maintenance dollars, electric utility capital funds, sales tax infrastructure funds and County communications money have flowed into the nonprofit behind Tallahassee Reports for the past five years. 

Bottom line: When you total it all up, since 2020, Steve Stewart’s Red Hills Journalism Foundation has raked in $100,000 of taxpayer dollars for his website. 

The Advertising vs. Subsidy distinction 

Before anyone reaches for a strawman, let’s be clear about something. Local governments have long advertised in local media. When I worked at the Tallahassee Democrat, the City bought hurricane preparedness ads, public notices, legal ads, and utility conservation messages, among other things. That practice is normal, transparent, and healthy in a functioning civic ecosystem. If this were simply about the City buying display ads from Tallahassee Reports — nobody would blink. 

But that is not what happened here. 

In addition to conventional advertising, the City and County routed recurring payments to Tallahassee Reports’ nonprofit parent — including through the airport and electric utility “Renewal, Replacement & Improvement” (RRI) funds — capital accounts intended to maintain runways, substations, transformers, and critical infrastructure. These were not line-item display ads with rate sheets and run schedules. These were monthly transfers to a media nonprofit. 

Did these happen outside traditional procurement channels? Is there a rate card? Publicly available scope? Placement report or deliverables? Red Tape Florida has public records requests pending on these questions. 

So, did anything about Tallahassee Reports coverage change when the money started flowing? Did this plucky right-wing independent blog continue shining the light on all five Democrats on the Tallahassee City Commission?  

You bet it did. 

What changed at TR — and when 

Before December 2019, TR routinely blasted the City’s “insider” culture. Then public payments began flowing. Since then, the outlet’s most aggressive “watchdog” pieces have exclusively targeted the Mayor’s opponents on the Commission while minimizing or reframing controversies that reflect poorly on senior City leadership.  

We reviewed Tallahassee Reports’ City Hall coverage from 2020 to today — the period after the City began sending recurring payments to the Red Hills Journalism Foundation. 

Here’s what we found: 

• Multiple stories targeting the commissioners in the minority on the board (Matlow and Porter) 
• A high-profile takedown of an unpaid volunteer (TMH board member Sally Bradshaw) 
• Headlines repeatedly highlighting a lone dissenting vote as the narrative 
• Not a single headline or lead story critically scrutinizing Mayor John Dailey, Commissioner Dianne Williams-Cox, Commissioner Curtis Richardson, or City Manager Reese Goad 

To ensure fairness, we excluded routine “meeting notes” pieces and focused only on coverage that assigns blame, casts judgment, or frames political motives. The pattern was unmistakable: when Tallahassee Reports criticizes, it almost always runs in one direction. 

And for the record: If anyone can surface a Tallahassee Reports story from this period that meaningfully holds the City’s ruling bloc accountable, we will gladly add it here. Patterns are strongest when they can withstand scrutiny — and this one does. 

PRE-2020, it was a different story. 

Check out this list of stories critical of the mayor, the city manager and their current-day allies: 

1. Insiders get their man: Reese Goad hired by a lame-duck City Commission (Sept. 17, 2018). Framed the manager hire as an insider play by the outgoing commission; Richardson was part of that body. 

2. City lobbying fees up 500 percent from 2011 to 2019. (Nov. 14, 2019). TR framed this as a sign that the current regime was being unduly influenced by the political class.  

3. Ceremonial vote reveals city commissioners’ views on City Manager Goad (Oct. 31, 2019). Reported Dailey calling a public “vote of confidence” for Goad—again positioning the pro-Goad majority (Dailey/Williams-Cox/Richardson) for critique. 

4. Who is lobbying for Reese Goad to be city manager? (July 5, 2018). Highlights the efforts of consulting firm Vancore Jones – widely known to be a key ally and advisor to Dailey and Goad – as a driving force behind the city manager search. 

5. Commissioner Curtis Richardson: “Are Businesses Leaving the City?” We have the answer (April 14, 2016). A story that mocks Richardson for suggesting businesses aren’t leaving the city when the data showed that they are. 

And of course, there are more. 

A watchdog becoming dependent on government dollars is not an abstraction — it’s a pressure system. It doesn’t need an explicit quid pro quo; it only needs a steady check and a narrowing sense of who the “real problem” is. 

Bradshaw vs. the insinuation machine 

Back to the Bradshaw “story.” If corruption requires someone to gain something, where’s the gain? There isn’t one. An unpaid board volunteer made a legal donation and, if anything, paid a reputational price for insisting the hospital preserve community control. The piece asserts impropriety by headline implication — and by carefully avoiding context about her non-compensated status. What Bradshaw actually did was exercise her First Amendment rights to support a candidate who had just announced for mayor. 

Compare that with the TR silence around more obvious optics: the Mayor John Dailey’s Seminole Boosters money and the Doak vote 

In February 2022, Mayor John Dailey supported a $20 million Blueprint contribution for FSU’s stadium. In the run-up, his political committees hauled in more than $23,000 from Seminole Boosters/FSU-affiliated donors. That timing drew calls — from media and party organizations — for him to return the money before the vote. He didn’t. He defended it. Then the funding went through.  

By the way, instead of going to infrastructure and bathroom repairs, as promised, it went to a new Jumbotron. 

That episode checked every optics box the Bradshaw non-story does not: private benefit to a political brand; aligned donor pool; a decisive vote for a powerful institution; the public interest questioned in real time.  

Yet the “watchdog” outrage energy appears to have been rationed differently. 

Take a moment and try to Google all the critical TR stories on the Mayor’s swollen coffers. I’ll wait. 

Who’s paying — and from what pot — matters 

The City’s choice of fund sources is the tell. Airport RR&I Fund and Electric RR&I Fund are capital renewal and replacement funds — the buckets used to maintain runways, terminals, and the electric grid. Using them to underwrite a journalism nonprofit is… novel. Those funds are supposed to keep planes safe and lights on, not buy “community coverage.”  

What readers deserve, and what officials should answer 

For City/County leaders: 
• Who authorized using airport and electric R&R funds to pay the Red Hills Journalism Foundation? What was the procurement/legal theory 

• What contracted deliverables were produced — and where are they? 
• Did any official request or imply favorable coverage or targeted stories? 
• Why a nonprofit transfer instead of standard ad buys with deliverables and placement reports? 

Red Tape Florida has made public records requests seeking answers to these questions.  

Call the thing by its name 

Let’s retire the romance. Tallahassee Reports has never been “the free press” in the civics-textbook sense; it was a right-leaning outlet that held City Hall to account — until City Hall and the County started cutting checks. Now it uses public money to support … Democrats, like the mayor and his allies on the commission. 

Then TR hammers other commissioners and community actors who cross the insiders’ agenda. That’s not journalism. That’s a publicly funded spin factory with a byline. 

And suddenly the Bradshaw dust-up looks small. If you can funnel airport and utility funds into media influence, don’t point at an unpaid volunteer and cry “corruption.” Call it what it is: the city buying its own cheerleaders. 

Bottom line 

The City and County and Blueprint should end this arrangement immediately. This is such a brazen propaganda operation that 1980s Pravda “reporters” would blush. 

Until that happens, conservatives who once looked to TR for alternative news should now see it for what it is – a vehicle to defend the Democrats that makeup the majority on the Tallahassee City Commission … and to attack its enemies. 

November 7, 2025
Special Report by Skip Foster, Red Tape Florida

Gulf County has now responded to Red Tape Florida’s reporting on its illegal $500 “planning review fee” for builders who use private inspectors. The response, signed by County Planner Doug Crane, is exactly what you’d expect from a government caught in the act: a lot of bluster, a little jargon, and not one sentence that makes the fee legal. 

Crane’s letter lists a dozen things the county does to “safeguard health, safety and welfare” — confirming ownership, verifying setbacks, checking FEMA zones, and so on — as if this were some special service for those using private providers. The problem? The county does every one of those things already for builders who don’t use private providers. And it doesn’t charge them $500! 

That’s not a “planning review.” That’s a selective surcharge, and Florida law couldn’t be clearer about it. 

Under Florida Statute §553.791(2)(a): 

“The local jurisdiction may not charge fees for building inspections if the fee owner or contractor hires a private provider … however, the local jurisdiction may charge a reasonable administrative fee, which shall be based on the cost that is actually incurred … for the clerical and supervisory assistance required.” 

Translation: the only fee a county can impose when a private provider is used must reflect actual clerical or supervisory cost — not a made-up round number like $500 that conveniently lands in the general fund. 

Then there’s §553.791(17)(a): 

“A local enforcement agency, local building official, or local government may not adopt or enforce any laws, rules, procedures, policies, qualifications, or standards more stringent than those prescribed by this section.” 

Gulf County’s letter literally admits it’s doing exactly that — layering its own checklist and charging an extra fee that doesn’t apply to anyone else. That’s the definition of “more stringent.” 

Crane tries to justify the toll by saying it covers “staff time, documentation verification, and on-site evaluations.” Yet §553.791 says those evaluations are already part of the building process. The private provider handles inspections; the local government’s role is administrative oversight — not duplication for profit. 

And remember, Gulf County is so brazen about what it’s doing it wrote it right into its code: 

Let’s call this what it is: a toll for exercising a right the Legislature gave you. A $500 penalty for using a system designed to make housing more affordable and efficient. A county government that sees a reform meant to cut red tape — and adds its own roll of tape right on top. 

Representative Jason Shoaf is already watching. His exclusive statement to RTF last week made that clear: 

“I’m calling on all political subdivisions of the state to immediately suspend this practice and start following Florida law.” 

The Legislature built a fast lane. Gulf County built a toll booth. And no matter how many bullet points the planner adds, §553.791 says what it says — and Gulf County is wrong. 

October 24, 2025
Red Tape Florida

TALLAHASSEE — Here we go again: county bureaucrats who don’t like a state law are circling the wagons, slow-walking compliance, and now trying to rewrite reality to make it sound like private providers are bad for residents and business. The Florida Association of Counties’ Community & Urban Affairs Committee is pushing an agenda item dressed up as “citizen protection,” but its own packet undercuts the scare story it’s selling. 

The packet’s central claim is “secrecy” — that a contractor can use a private provider without the homeowner’s knowledge. So what? Homeowners hire licensed professionals precisely to make hundreds of technical decisions they don’t micromanage — which inspector to schedule is no different from which truss detail to spec. 

The use of private providers, with or without homeowner signoff, is specifically permitted in Florida statutes. Private providers are licensed, certified, and insured to the same state standards as their public-sector counterparts. We all know that the private sector almost always moves more quickly and efficiently than the government. If a homeowner wants to be notified, that’s a contract choice between owner and contractor — not a pretext for counties to kneecap a lawful option. 

We’re told private providers were “designed for bigger cities” or post-hurricane spikes, as if rural counties were never in the picture. But the packet also reminds readers the Florida Building Code is meant to apply uniformly across jurisdictions and that private providers have been in statute since 2002 – that’s 23 years! Translation: this isn’t a Miami carve-out — it’s statewide policy that counties have had decades to implement. 

On oversight, the sales pitch is “lack of control.” The FAC agenda item tries to bury reality in the fine print, which lists the controls: sworn plan certifications; phase-by-phase inspections; 10-business-day permit timelines after affidavit; sworn certification of code compliance upon completion; and since 2024, mandatory, published audit procedures with results posted for the public. 

If “no oversight” is your talking point while you quote the oversight, maybe the talking point needs an audit. 

The fiscal bogeyman is even thinner. The packet declares “devastating financial impacts” on Gulf County and its residents, offers no numbers, and then quietly notes that when an owner elects to use a private provider, the permit fee must be reduced to reflect the county’s actual cost savings — with only a reasonable administrative fee allowed. If the math is so devastating, show it. Otherwise, this reads like counties protecting fee revenue, not homeowners. 

And, of course, what we know is that it’s the private sector that is taking it in the teeth on this. Gulf County is charging businesses $500 for the use of private providers – and doing absolutely nothing in return. 

The legislative rundown is similar sleight of hand. The “loss of local control” language is pinned to a bill that died. The one that passed in 2025 tweaked single-trade inspections and allowed limited post-start use of providers — hardly a system meltdown. Panic without provenance is politics, not policy. 

And take a look at who submitted the item: Gulf County — via Brad Bailey. Readers of Red Tape Florida will remember Bailey from our reporting on Gulf’s flat $500 “review” fee when owners chose private providers. Bailey is not a licensed plans examiner nor does he have a building code administrator license, which makes him an odd face for an anti–private provider push built on technical authority. The through-line isn’t safety — it’s bureaucracy protecting its turf. 

Bottom line: Florida’s private-provider law gives owners a legal, licensed, insured alternative to the use of local building departments – who often can’t or won’t deliver timely reviews and inspections. The packet trying to kneecap that option reads like a brief for preserving status quo revenue and control — not for protecting consumers. If counties want new tools, say what and why. But stop flouting the law, stop inventing problems, and stop pretending homeowners and small builders are the threat. 

FAC shouldn’t embarrass itself further by advancing this item — a straw house, built on sand by an unlicensed builder. 

Here’s a better idea – tell Gulf County start following the law. 

October 17, 2025

If you don’t have a choice to pay it, it’s not really a fee 

Property-tax scrutiny is pushing cities and counties toward a quieter revenue source: fees. In theory, fees are better than taxes because they connect what you pay to what you use. In practice, many of today’s “fees” are compulsory, appear on the property-tax bill, and climb steeply — functioning like taxes by another name. 

Start with public safety. Kissimmee just created a $150 annual fire assessment to fund a shift to a 42-hour work week and new hires; commissioners framed it as the only realistic way to cover rising costs without jacking up the millage. Nearby Ocoee doubled its fire fee from $69.50 to $139.23 per “fire protection unit,” explicitly to avoid a property-tax increase.  

The Tallahassee–Leon fire-services fight hinges on the City’s push for a massive fee hike: in June, commissioners backed a roughly 22–25% increase set to take effect in September; after the County voted 5–2 to reject it, the City floated a pared-back 9.98% “Plan B,” then on Sept. 17 voted to sever the interlocal fire-services agreement.  

Stormwater is on the same path. Last year Orlando approved a multiyear schedule that lifts the typical residential stormwater bill toward about $21 a month by 2028; city staff said the jump was overdue after years without increases. Oviedo adopted annual stormwater hikes through 2033 that will push typical monthly charges well over $40 to finance a backlog of projects.  

If these were simply user fees, you’d pay at the counter and opt out by not using the service. That’s not how they work. Florida’s “non-ad valorem assessments” are levied by local governments, posted on the same bill as your property taxes, and collected by the tax collector. Courts have long noted that special assessments aren’t ad valorem taxes, but they can still be imposed broadly when there’s a defined “special benefit” to property. That’s why fire and stormwater assessments can reach properties that otherwise pay little or no property tax. Orlando even spells it out plainly: stormwater is billed as a non-ad valorem charge on the annual tax bill.  

Meanwhile, state leaders are floating big property-tax changes for homesteads, which only increases the incentive for locals to lean on assessments and fees instead. Whether or not those Tallahassee debates go anywhere, the local shift is already happening.  

Here’s the rub: calling something a “fee” doesn’t make it feel any different to the family writing the check. A doubled fire assessment and a steep stormwater hike reduce disposable income just like a millage increase would. The main difference is political optics — fees face less backlash and are easier to target, so they’ve become the preferred tool to backfill public-safety payrolls and rebuild aging pipes. 

None of this argues for starving core services. Fire protection and stormwater systems are essential, and costs are rising. But honesty demands we treat compulsory assessments like what they are: tax-like charges that deserve the same transparency and accountability as any millage increase. 

Three fixes would help. First, add a single “all-in burden” line on local dashboards that shows the combined annual impact of millage, assessments, and utility charges for a typical home. Second, require a true pay-for-performance link—publish the service improvements tied to each increase (response times, staffing levels, flooded-street reductions) and report against them quarterly. Third, sunset schedules automatically unless councils re-vote after a public check-in. 

If local government needs more money, make the case and show the results. But let’s retire the fiction that calling it a fee makes it anything less than a tax in sheep’s clothing. 

October 14, 2025
Red Tape Florida

Final part of a series

It’s easy to feel discouraged when examining what hasn’t materialized around the MagLab. There are no recognized clusters of private-sector R&D, no noticeable proliferation of startups, and no regional plan in place to activate this scientific powerhouse as an economic engine for North Florida. 

But that reality is not set in stone. 

The MagLab’s scientific output is elite. Its researchers are top-tier, and the facility’s presence in Tallahassee—backed by substantial NSF and state investment—is a rare asset. 

And there are signs of life. 

The Motor Drive Systems and Magnetics (MDSM) annual conference was held in Tallahassee for the first time this year and is returning in 2026. 

Companies such as Biofront (disease testing kits) and Piersica (new battery technologies) have a toehold in Tallahassee. 

What’s missing is a comprehensive strategy: a bold, shared vision among FSU, FAMU, TSC, the city, the county, state government and the business community. One that moves beyond resting on the lab’s reputation – and empty slogans like “Magnetics Capital of the World” — and actually delivers tangible results. 

That means: 

• FSU must open the gates — removing barriers to private-sector partnerships. 

• The city must prioritize infrastructure, particularly power and site readiness for innovation-driven firms. 

• The Chamber and economic development agencies must treat the MagLab as a keystone and persist when it comes to getting alignment among all the stakeholders listed above. 

• And speaking of economic development, a collaboration between local government and the private sector must dramatically rework how OEV interacts with prospects to create a much higher level of agility and creativity. 

• Leadership must emerge – that can convene stakeholders and tackle the issues that have led to 30 years of stagnation. 

In the short term, here are 5 more quick wins that could be achieved in the next 24 months. 

1. Launch the MagLab Commercialization Challenge 
   An annual, high-visibility competition offering seed funding, lab access, and expert mentoring to startups or companies that can develop market-ready products from MagLab research. Winners commit to establishing or expanding operations in Tallahassee, turning lab breakthroughs into local jobs. 

2. Launch an “Innovation Sites” Map 
   Publish an online, publicly accessible map showing shovel-ready industrial parcels, with details on power capacity, broadband speed, and zoning — the same intel site selectors demand on day one. 

3. Secure a Signature Industry Partner 
   Land one high-visibility corporate tenant in advanced materials, clean energy, or biotech that actively uses MagLab capabilities, and announce it prominently. 

4. Host a National Tech + Science Summit in Tallahassee 
   Use the MagLab as the anchor venue for a multi-day, industry-heavy event — following the MDSM model but broadened to attract venture capital, suppliers, and manufacturing prospects. 

5. Set a Goal – and Achieve it 
   Commit to recruiting at least five MagLab-related companies and creating 250 new private-sector R&D/manufacturing jobs by the end of year two — and publish progress quarterly. 

Conclusion 

There is no way around it – Tallahassee’s inability to build an economy around the MagLab is a massive underachievement. 

But it’s not too late to turn things around. 

It starts with acknowledging how little has been done so far … and recognizing just how much is still possible through collaboration, humility, creativeness and energy. 

September 19, 2025
Red Tape Florida

“Profit sharing” at a nonprofit.

A $25,000 signing bonus.

A salary higher than the 20-year veteran a new director replaced.

Internal documents and interviews obtained by Red Tape Florida reveal how the North Florida Fair is rewarding its leaders — and why officials are demanding answers.

After Red Tape Florida first reported about the now-infamous $28,000 retirement watch, fallout was swift, with local and state officials demanding an investigation.

Now, a new revelation: The incoming executive director of the Fair — who has defended the board’s decision to buy the luxury watch for her predecessor — herself received a $25,000 cash signing bonus upon being hired.

Minutes from the September 12, 2024, meeting reveal a discussion about the offer to Muir, who had been attending meetings since 2023 as the heir apparent to the director’s job and seemed a lock for the position.

While Harvey had not yet set a retirement date, the board moved toward making an offer to Muir. Initially, a base salary of $100,000 was discussed – below the long-time outgoing manager Harvey’s salary of $112,000. But board member Marcus Boston said he “went on the internet” and found a higher range

A committee was formed and there was also a mention of one-time moving expenses, but no mention of any sort of bonus. In the end, Muir received a base salary more than 10 percent higher than Harvey — and the $25,000 bonus.

Board member Steve Hurm, contacted this week by Red Tape Florida, said the board never discussed a signing bonus. “That information was never brought to me and if it had been I would have objected,” said Hurm.

Pienta declined to comment on the Muir offer saying in a statement: “I want to reiterate that it has been an honor and a privilege to serve on the North Florida Fair board over the years, including as Board President/Chair since 2024. I have stepped down from that position and will continue to focus on and strengthen our local 4-H programming and participation in the Fair moving forward.”

“Profit sharing”

Meanwhile, the bonus money has been flowing at the fair for years and has been referred to at meetings and in minutes as “profit-sharing.”

When Hurm first heard that term he was alarmed.

“When a board member mentioned ‘profit-sharing,’ Hurm recalled, “I interrupted and said it was a nonsensical term – we’re a non-profit.”

By law, nonprofits don’t have “profits” to share. The IRS flatly prohibits it: no part of a charity’s earnings may inure to the benefit of insiders. Reasonable salaries? Sure. Profit sharing? That’s the language of Wall Street, not a 501(c)(3).

Watchdog groups warn boards constantly about even appearing to funnel surpluses to executives. Florida law is equally clear: compensation must be reasonable, but distributing income to officers is off-limits. And yet, here is a nonprofit agricultural fair association putting “profit sharing” in black and white — not whispered in a back room, but recorded as if it were standard practice.

It’s not just sloppy language. It’s a governance red flag that makes the organization look less like a community charity and more like a for-profit corporation cosplaying as one.

In 2023, Harvey received $27,500 in bonus money for strong performance of the annual fair. Minutes for 2024 aren’t available, but the 2025 proposed budget shows that total staff bonuses in 2024 were $74,000.

It is not clear if Harvey received a bonus this year for 2024 fair performance, but the 2025 total budget for bonuses rose to $100,000.

Also that year, two board members of the non-profit were paid — $2,809 to George Kolias and $571 to Carole Abbott. The watch controversy drew withering criticism from Leon County Commissioners Bill Proctor, Christian Caban and Brian Welch at Wednesday’s meeting, while Commissioner Nick Maddox did not appear as concerned. Hanging over the issue is $30 million in proposed Blueprint funding to enhance the fairgrounds. That funding was frozen at a recent Blueprint meeting by a 9-3 vote with Tallahassee Mayor John Dailey, City Commissioner Dianne Williams-Cox and Maddox voting against.

Also a factor is Leon County’s lease with the Fair.

But before the retirement watch controversy broke, it was fair board members who thought they had the upper hand in negotiations with Leon County over the fair’s $1 lease.

Board member Lee Vause Jr., who remains on the board after supporting the retirement gift, was quoted in the minutes responding to a conversation about the Fair’s lease with Leon County by saying: “We don’t have to negotiate lease with County. They want something, not the Fair. Fair is in better position, not County. Wait for County to get in touch with the Fair.”

September 17, 2025
Red Tape Florida

Part 4 of a series 

1. The self-evaluation problem 

FSU regularly publishes economic impact reports estimating the MagLab’s local annual output. However, these reports are produced by FSU’s own research center (CEFA) and rely heavily on FSU-generated spending data, rather than independently audited outcomes or private-sector-led growth. 

This raises concerns about potential bias and the absence of independent validation. 

2. A culture of insularity 

While many universities collaborate with local stakeholders, FSU appears to operate with limited outward engagement. Although Innovation Park – over which the university now has much more control — hosts some private sector entities, it remains predominantly academic and research-focused, rather than a thriving hub of public-private innovation. And there is no way around the fact that the park’s location – save for its proximity to the airport – is not desirable. 

3. Gatekeeping vs. partnering 

Some business leaders feel FSU treats the MagLab as its own asset—rather than a community resource. Further, FSU does not give the MagLab its own voice to be a community resource because all the business-related deals must go through FSU-sponsored research. 

These perceptions may ultimately undermine trust and deter entrepreneurial or investment opportunities. 

4. No clear economic vision 

FSU lacks a visible, comprehensive plan to translate the MagLab’s scientific strengths into a citywide economic strategy. Unlike institutions that launch innovation districts, venture funds, or commercialization pipelines, no comparable effort is evident here. 

What Could Change 

This isn’t a critique of FSU’s scientific excellence but a call for strategic recalibration. FSU should: 

• Invite independent review of its economic impact claims. 

• Formulate a public-private economic growth strategy centered around the MagLab. 
  On this point, there are numerous examples of institutions that have taken the lead. North Carolina State University’s Centennial Campus in Raleigh is a 1,300-acre, university-planned public-private research community that intentionally recruited more than 75 corporate, government, and nonprofit partners to co-locate with academic departments and research centers — creating thousands of private-sector jobs and driving Raleigh’s transformation into a tech hub. Similarly, Arizona State University’s SkySong Innovation Center redeveloped a shuttered mall into a thriving mixed-use campus housing over 80 companies, blending academic research with industry to generate sustained regional investment and employment. These projects weren’t incidental spinoffs — they were university-designed strategies to harness institutional assets for local economic growth. 
• Expand partnerships with private-sector firms, accelerators, and developers. 

• Reposition itself not only as a scientific steward, but as a partner in regional prosperity. 

If the MagLab is truly a national asset, its benefits should reach beyond campus boundaries. 

And then the burden shifts to other stakeholders: 

Local government: The lack of a community economic development vision is apparent to anyone paying attention. That has to change. Further, businesses that visit our market lament the bulky, clumsy structure of the Office of Economic Vitality with its unclear lines of decision-making and lack of dexterity. That has to change, too. 

State government: Understandably, Tallahassee is viewed as a business-unfriendly, anti-growth, hyper-political town. But the potential of a MagLab-driven economy is too great to let those realities overcome it. 

Private sector: The Chamber has simply not been effective in convening the public sector stakeholders to solve this problem. Perhaps a different group of strong business leaders is up to the challenge.  

Coming next: Is it too late? (Spoiler alert: No) 

September 15, 2025
Red Tape Florida

Three decades after FSU won the competition to host the National High Magnetic Field Laboratory, the scientific mission of the MagLab is undeniably successful — the lab holds multiple world records and attracts top researchers from around the globe. But in terms of local economic impact, the results have fallen short of the original vision. 

So, what would success have looked like? Here are four areas where Tallahassee has not kept pace with other national lab communities — and where it still has an opportunity to improve: 

1. A research park that catalyzes private-sector growth 

In thriving innovation districts, anchor institutions spark the development of adjacent private-sector firms. At Los Alamos and Oak Ridge, for example, national labs are surrounded by ecosystems of federal contractors, startups, and applied research firms. 

Tallahassee’s, by contrast, is dominated by public and academic entities. It mainly consists of empty lots and aging buildings, except those built by FSU which have no connection to the MagLab. As detailed in part 2, the commercialization pipeline remains underdeveloped. 

2. A tech corridor with venture capital and startup activity 

Florida ranks among the top ten states for total venture capital investment — but virtually none of that flows through Tallahassee. From 2012 to 2021, the state attracted over $85 billion in VC and private equity, with nearly all of it concentrated in Miami, Tampa, and Orlando. 

In Tallahassee, tech-based entrepreneurship remains rare, and there are very few examples of biomedical spinoffs or next-generation materials companies directly tied to MagLab research. 

3. Strategic alignment between lab, government, and infrastructure 

Cities like Los Alamos and Oak Ridge benefit from coordinated local and state investment in infrastructure, workforce development, and commercialization strategies to support lab spillover. 

Tallahassee lacks such alignment. Its electric grid and zoning regulations have not been meaningfully modernized to attract energy-intensive firms. And the MagLab has also failed to embrace current energy solution technologies, instead choosing to stay the course from the early 1990s on how energy is managed – which is wasteful given what is available today. 

4. Brand equity and national recognition 

The MagLab is recognized in the scientific community for its world-record magnets — but its national profile is surprisingly low outside of research circles. 

Unlike Oak Ridge or Los Alamos, which are synonymous with scientific innovation, Tallahassee rarely markets the MagLab as a signature asset. That’s not a failure of the science — it’s a missed opportunity in branding and communications. 

5. More and better energy capacity and usage 

If Tallahassee ever hopes to build an innovation economy around the MagLab, a basic question must be asked: Is the city even equipped to support one? 

The answer is: maybe, maybe not. 

Start with electricity. The MagLab is a power-hungry facility — among the largest single energy consumers in the region. In summer 2024, reports circulated that Florida State University had been asked by the City of Tallahassee to shut down MagLab power operations for an hour due to load concerns. This raises a fundamental red flag about whether our city-owned utility can support the demands of energy-intensive research or industrial-scale commercial spinoffs. 

One issue is that the MagLab is still using 1990s-era magnets that are high-energy consumers.  Existing technology would make these magnets operate more efficiently and lower power consumption when it comes to cooling and powering the magnets. 

The MagLab’s most powerful magnets can draw between 18 and 33 megawatts. At the upper end, that’s enough power to supply roughly 20,000 U.S. homes. Tallahassee apparently has no surplus generating capacity – where would the power come from if a new data center, battery plant, or high-wage advanced manufacturer was eyeing Tallahassee? 

6. Site readiness 

Beyond electricity, there’s also site readiness. Tallahassee lacks shovel-ready parcels that are truly equipped for tech-sector investment. In communities like Oak Ridge and Los Alamos, federal labs are surrounded by pre-zoned, utility-ready development pads supported by regional industrial recruitment efforts. Not so here. 

Bottom line: Even if the MagLab did produce a wave of commercialization, it’s unclear whether Tallahassee could physically support the growth. Our infrastructure isn’t ready, our energy grid is strained, and our land inventory is weak. 

The Good News 
It’s not too late. The MagLab remains among the world’s top facilities in its field. Realizing its broader potential will require: 

• A serious commercialization strategy 

• Infrastructure enhancements to attract private investment 

• Deliberate partnerships across academia, government, and industry 

• Independent economic metrics and bold regional targets 

A world-class lab deserves a world-class regional strategy. Tallahassee has a second chance — if its leaders seize it. 

Coming next: Is this an FSU problem or an all-the-other-stakeholders problem? 

September 11, 2025
Red Tape Florida

Leon County Commission Chair Brian Welch blasted actions by the North Florida Fair board on Monday as “completely inappropriate and utterly confounding,” adding he will seek a review by both Leon County Government and the Blueprint Intergovernmental Agency to determine “what level of oversight we have in the management of the fairgrounds.” 

“I cannot believe that a non-profit board that oversees the administration of a public asset would act in such an irresponsible way,” Welch wrote. “I intend to ensure that both Leon County Government and the Blueprint Intergovernmental Agency investigate this situation as soon as possible.” 

Tallahassee City Commissioner Jeremy Matlow also weighed in on Red Tape Florida publisher Skip Foster’s Facebook page saying the gift was “incredibly out of touch.” 

Florida State Rep. Allison Tant also registered her outrage: “If this watch was paid with anything supported by tax dollars, it should be returned and refunded,” Rep. Tant said. “And the fairground authority should be audited. This is not what public or not-for-profit funds should be used for.”  

Welch’s post landed as social media comments were unanimously outraged and featured calls for accountability. A sampling: 

Anger over spending and priorities 

• “Blatant misuse of funds.” — Allison Flynn 

• “Personally, I don’t think anyone should have a $35,000 watch when children are homeless and/or going hungry!” — Liz Jameson 

• “$200 watches work just as well.” — Colleen Castille 

Credit for dissent and calls to return money 

• “Proud of Rachel Sutz Pienta and the others who resigned. Now, how about the director refuse to take it and return the $? That’s what should happen next.” — Carrie Boyd 

• “What incredible audacity! … Bravo to Rachel Sutz Pienta and the other board members who refused to go along with this…” — Rick Oppenheim 

Governance and oversight concerns 

• “Truly outrageous. I wonder if an audit would reveal other reckless expenditures.” — Bill Berlow 

• “The fairgrounds board has had a cloak of protection… They answer to no one. This can only change with leadership addressing it.” — Henree D. Martin 

• “This is the ‘rest of the story’ I’ve been waiting for.” — Pam Jordan Anderson 

Bigger-picture ideas 

• “The fairgrounds need to relocate to Gadsden County. Become truly regional.” — Ed Murray Jr. 

Why it matters 

The North Florida Fair is run by a private not-for-profit association but operates a community asset and regional venue. That public–private mix is fueling questions about who sets the rules, how directors are chosen, and what public oversight exists. 

What’s next 

• Welch says he’ll press for County/Blueprint inquiries into oversight levers (leases, grants, interlocal agreements). 

• Commenters are calling for the Fair Association to publish its bylaws, explain how board seats are filled, and return any inappropriate purchases. 

• Several readers urged a full audit and a public workshop before any board changes move forward. 

RTF has requested the association’s governing documents and any county/Blueprint agreements related to the fairgrounds. If you have records or perspectives to add, email info@redtapeflorida.com. 

September 9, 2025
Red Tape Florida

The non-profit North Florida Fair Association board has voted to spend roughly $25,000 on a luxury retirement watch for longtime fair manager Mark Harvey, based on public records obtained by Red Tape Florida.  

That number bears repeating: twenty-five thousand dollars. On a watch. For a man already paid over $174,000 a year in salary, bonus, and benefits from a nonprofit that exists only because of public trust and taxpayer-owned land. Combined with a $10,000 donation from a fair vendor, it adds up to a $35,000 retirement gift. 

The razor thin 5-4 vote led to multiple resignations from the board, including by its president and secretary. 

How We Got Here 

The Dissenters 

Not everyone was willing to sign on. In his resignation letter immediately after the meeting, board secretary Steve Hurm cited Florida Statute 616.07(2), which makes clear that fair association property is public property to be held in trust for the “legitimate purpose of the association.” He argued that spending tens of thousands on a luxury watch flouted that responsibility. 

Board president Rachel Pienta echoed the concerns in her resignation email, warning she could not defend the board’s action. Their point was straightforward: nonprofits benefiting from public assets cannot treat themselves like private clubs or corporations. Also submitting resignations: board members Ashley Edwards and David Gardner. 

How the Vote Went Down 

If the substance was troubling, the process was worse. After a June meeting lost its quorum, the board initially conducted an email “survey” vote, even though one board member had warned that such votes are improper and have no standing under Robert’s Rules.  

That vote was deemed invalid and at the board’s specially called July 7 meeting, the $25,0000 expenditure was approved by a 5-4 vote. 

The Optics 

The fairgrounds sit in a neighborhood where the median household income is around $25,000 — less than the cost of this watch. The board’s decision effectively told those families: we think a departing executive’s wrist deserves more than what you live on for a year. 

This is, at best, colossally bad judgment.  

The new fair manager, Miranda Muir, denied a Red Tape Florida public records request stating that the association is “not subject to the State of Florida Sunshine Laws.” Hurm, an attorney, disagrees. He warned the board in a May 7 email that “this is not something we can discuss or vote on without violating the Sunshine law.” 

Red Tape Florida was able to obtain the documents despite Muir’s stonewalling. 

Why It Matters — and the RTF Connection 

The North Florida Fair Association is not a private outfit. It is a nonprofit that exists because of public trust, tax-exempt status, and free use of Leon County land, including taxpayer-funded improvements. To wit, it has recently been in the news because more than $30 million of taxpayer dollars have been allocated via Blueprint 2020 to improve the fairgrounds’ facilities. 

With these public dollars come an obligation to act as stewards, not spendthrifts. 

Instead, the board demonstrated the classic symptoms of bureaucracy-creep that Red Tape Florida was built to expose. Quasi-public bodies, cushioned by tax breaks and government assets, start operating as if the rules don’t apply to them. Transparency slips, accountability erodes, and insiders reward themselves at the public’s expense. 

The fair itself remains a cherished community institution. But its board just sent a message that stewardship takes a back seat to self-indulgence. We salute the board members who resigned in protest – this action was indefensible and wrong. 

A watch may tell time, but this one tells a deeper story — of poor judgment, of blurred lines between public and private, and of how easily trust can be squandered. Unless new board leadership steps in, the North Florida Fair Association may find that credibility, once lost, is far harder to buy back than any luxury timepiece. 

September 8, 2025
Red Tape Florida