Crazy Train

On a Tuesday in August, Alison Saunders encountered a familiar face at the Westport Sunfresh. Clay Chastain was collecting signatures for yet another petition to build light rail in Kansas City.

Over the years, Chastain has spent a lot of time outside supermarkets, clipboard in hand. He has placed five different transit proposals on the ballot since 1998. He remains undaunted by the scorn of critics and by the embarrassing revelation that he had used the petitions to try to meet women. Voters have rejected every initiative.

Saunders, a self-employed midtowner, recognized Chastain — the lean frame, the heavy brow — from one of his previous petition drives. His latest initiative puts forward a plan to build a light-rail line from Swope Park to Kansas City International Airport. The proposal also calls for a fleet of "green" buses and a Disneyland-like band of gondolas between Union Station and Liberty Memorial.

Saunders signed the petition without needing to be convinced of its merits. "I just think it's time," she says. "It's the 21st century now. There's no reason we're not taking full advantage of all our options for public transportation.

"Plus, I don't want to park when I go to the airport."

Chastain obtained the signatures necessary to get his proposal on the November 7 ballot. Dealt a relentless string of defeats, light rail continues to appeal to a segment of the population, at least at the commitment-free petition stage.

With good reason, mass transit appears on a lot of wish lists in Kansas City, slave of the automobile. Only 1.2 percent of workers in the metropolitan area use public transportation. Accordingly, a recent study found that residents spend almost as much to get around as they do on housing. Add concerns about global warming and oil dependency, and light rail becomes even more attractive.

Yet for a decade, the transit discussion has been dominated by a narcissist who is incapable of building consensus — and has a fetish for gondolas.

Chastain, 53, drafted his most recent proposal in spite of past pronouncements that he was finished with the petition process. After a transit plan went down in 2000, Chastain told The Kansas City Star that "this worn path has come to a dead end." After two more failed initiatives and one unsuccessful run in 2004 for Congress, here he was again this summer, collecting signatures.

Not even a move to a different state could break Chastain of the initiative habit. A semiretired home remodeler, he now lives in Bedford, Virginia, a community of 6,299 near the Blue Ridge Mountains.

Though he's no longer a resident, Chastain refuses to give up on the idea that Kansas City needs light rail. His belief is almost religious. He even draws an awkward comparison between his efforts and the life of Jesus.

The consummate outsider, Chastain has no organized support for his plan. He has raised no money and is relying entirely on free media to spread the message. Yet thousands of voters will say yes to Chastain's proposal on Election Day. Misguided as he may be, Chastain taps into a sentiment that Kansas City can't keep rebuilding the Grandview Triangle. As Kevin Klinkenberg, an urban planner with 180 Degrees Design Studio in Kansas City, says of Chastain: "Even his bad plans get darn near 40 percent approval."

Chastain's latest proposal emerges at a time when transit officials are trying to muster enthusiasm for a regional plan funded by a new, multicounty sales tax. The plan, called Smart Moves, mimics aspects of a subway system and talks about putting existing railroad lines to use. But mainly, it moves people by bus.

Backers say Smart Moves is a practical way to provide better transit. They say it could serve as a precursor to light rail.

Chastain refuses to buy in, however. He wants trains, and he wants them now.

Smart Moves is unlikely to appear on a ballot before 2008. Its proponents have begun the process of convincing people that buses don't have to be lame.

But first, they have to take the time to explain what's wrong with Chastain's latest effort at clipboard democracy. "I'm glad he's out there at least pushing the discussion," Klinkenberg says, "but I don't think his ballot initiatives are doing any good, other than keeping his name in the paper."

Eight years ago, architect Kite Singleton took a trip to Brazil. He didn't go for Carnival or the beaches of Rio. He wanted to visit Curitiba and see the city's magnificent buses.

A member of the Regional Transit Alliance, a citizens' group, Singleton has been interested in transit for 40 years. In 1965, he took a job at a downtown architecture firm. At the time, downtown Kansas City, Missouri, was a happening place. "When it was lunchtime, I had three dozen restaurants where I could go eat," he says.