UA offers Folklore Preserve a lifeline. Now take it

Quick Takeaways

The university changed course: After criticism of its plan to sell the Ramsey Canyon property, UA offered the Arizona Folklore Preserve a five-year lease at $300 per month, with a future right of first refusal if the property is sold.The preserve says the costs remain daunting: President Mike Rutherford estimates rent, utilities and insurance could approach $10,000 annually before repairs, but many of those expenses would also exist if the nonprofit owned the property.Five years creates an opportunity: The proposed lease could allow performances to resume while supporters pursue sponsors, grants, memberships and donations and begin building the resources needed to potentially buy the property later.

SIERRA VISTA — Two weeks ago, I gave my bad week on the Cochise County Sunday Roundtable to the integrity of the University of Arizona.

This week, I gave the university its integrity back.

That may be the fastest turnaround in the short history of "Good Week/Bad Week," but credit is due when someone listens, reconsiders and offers a sensible compromise.

The university had planned to sell the Ramsey Canyon property that has housed the Arizona Folklore Preserve for roughly a quarter-century. The preserve held its final scheduled performances July 4 and 5, then stopped booking artists because its leaders could not promise they would still have a theater.

Preserve founder Dolan Ellis and board President Mike Rutherford argued that the university should never have treated the property as an ordinary asset. The land and historic Moffett House had been transferred through a university-affiliated foundation because preserve supporters believed the relationship would secure a permanent home for Arizona music, storytelling and folklore.

The University of Arizona had fallen into financial trouble. The Arizona Folklore Preserve did not put it there.

Yet the university appeared prepared to sell a venue built through donations, volunteer labor and a partnership entered into with the understanding that live music would continue in Ramsey Canyon.

That was wrong, and plenty of people told the university so.

The Herald/Review published several stories. Preserve supporters wrote emails. Musicians who had performed there contacted university officials. Ellis, now 91 and marking his 60th year as Arizona's official state balladeer, did what he said might be the preserve's only remaining option.

He made noise.

"Power of the press," senior reporter Terri Jo Neff said during our latest Roundtable discussion.

"Power of the press. Power of the people," I answered. "Just saying, 'Hey, this is not right. Don't do it.'"

And to its credit, the university moved.

In a Sept. 23 letter, Richard Cate, senior adviser to University of Arizona President Suresh Garimella for operations, offered to negotiate a five-year lease that would allow the preserve to remain rather than putting the property up for sale now.

The proposed rent is $300 per month.

The preserve would also assume responsibility for utilities, repairs, third-party services and deferred maintenance. It would have to maintain at least $2 million in public liability insurance and $250,000 in property coverage, with the university named as an additional insured.

The university could use the property for up to 30 days each year, provided those dates did not interfere with performances. A year before the lease expires, the two sides would discuss what comes next.

If the university eventually decided to sell, the preserve would receive a right of first refusal at a fair market value determined by an independent appraisal.

It is not ownership. It is not the return of the property for $1 that Rutherford previously suggested. It does not settle every disagreement about what was promised more than two decades ago.

But it keeps the building standing, the preserve inside it and the possibility of live music returning to Ramsey Canyon.

That is a reasonable offer.

"This is great. This is amazing," I said on the Roundtable. "We got them to do the right thing."

I expected the preserve's leadership to be over the moon. The music could return. The equipment would not have to be packed into storage. Volunteers could begin rebuilding the schedule and performers could once again make plans to visit Ramsey Canyon.

Instead, Rutherford responded cautiously.

"I don't see how we can do it," he told the Herald/Review.

The preserve ended its most recent season with about $3,000 in the bank. Rutherford estimated the rent would cost $3,600 annually, utilities another $4,000 and insurance a couple thousand dollars more. Before repairs and other obligations, the yearly cost could approach $10,000.

Those are real expenses for a small nonprofit operated entirely by volunteers, but most would not disappear if the university granted Rutherford's preferred solution and sold the property to the preserve for $1. As the owner, the nonprofit would still pay utilities, carry insurance and assume responsibility for repairs and deferred maintenance. The principal new cost created by the lease is the rent: a comparatively measly $300 a month.

If the preserve was prepared to own and operate the property for a buck, then $300 a month should not be the hill where the music dies.

The board has not rejected the proposal. It plans to meet and could send the university a counteroffer before the Oct. 19 deadline.

Good. Negotiate.

Ask the university to assume responsibility for structural repairs. Seek clarity about which deferred-maintenance obligations would fall on the preserve. Request a lower insurance threshold if the risks justify it. Ask for the rent to be waived during the first year while performances are rescheduled and revenue begins flowing again.

But do not allow a $300 monthly rent payment to become the reason the music stays silent.

"I really expected them to be elated that the music was going to go on, the show was going to go on," I told Neff. "Come on, people. Three hundred dollars a month after all of this trouble that everybody went to who loves the Folklore Preserve — this is reasonable."

Rutherford said the preserve might raise ticket prices, seek grants or find a sponsor. He also worries that higher gasoline prices have already discouraged some patrons from Tucson and Green Valley.

Those are fair business concerns. They are not reasons to stop fighting.

"Wait, now it's the University of Arizona's fault that gas prices are so high?" I asked. "Come on, people."

The university was cast as the villain when it planned to sell. Now that it has offered a five-year bridge, preserve leaders have to show some skin in the game.

"If this is your dream, you've got to fight for your dream a little bit," I said.

The preserve has something most struggling nonprofits would envy: a distinctive venue, a respected name, a 30-year history, an internationally traveled founder and a base of supporters who just demonstrated that they care enough to make noise.

Now it needs one or more of those supporters to write checks.

A business could cover $300 a month and become a season sponsor. Several businesses could split the cost. Individual donors could underwrite particular weekends, performers or utility bills. The preserve could launch memberships, seek naming sponsorships, hold fundraising performances or approach foundations with a newly urgent case.

"If you're a successful business owner or just an individual with $300 a month burning a hole in your pocket, go ahead and solve this problem for everybody," I said. "You can be a sponsor. You can get your name on shows."

Neff noted that nearby residents also have reason to want an agreement. If the university sells the property, nobody knows who might buy it or what new use could be proposed. Ramsey Canyon has already experienced disputes involving traffic and noise during weddings at the controversial Ramsey Canyon Inn. Five more years of the preserve would keep a familiar use in place while giving the nonprofit time to stabilize its finances and plan for ownership.

"A lot of the neighbors really are hoping that this deal can be worked out," Neff said. "They don't know what might end up in there."

Five years also creates breathing room during a period when higher education itself is changing rapidly under financial pressure, artificial intelligence and the increasingly expensive machinery of major college athletics.

Nobody knows what the University of Arizona will look like in 2031. Nobody knows what the property will be worth or whether the university will still want to sell it.

But the preserve would have five years to find out — and five years to raise enough money to exercise its right of first refusal if the property goes on the market.

The university's proposal is not yet a lease. The preserve must first express interest, and the details still have to be negotiated. The board should carefully inspect every obligation before signing anything.

Still, the choice is no longer between an immediate sale and a courtroom fight the preserve probably cannot afford. There is now a third path: keep the theater open, bring back the performers and use five years to build a sustainable future.

The University of Arizona deserves its good week for putting that path on the table.

Now the Arizona Folklore Preserve needs to walk it.

The university did the reasonable thing.

It is time to restart the music.

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