The city of Denver has been regarded a lousy place to do business for decades. Permitting for new housing, even projects as simple as replacing a garage or adding a deck, were known to require months, extending to years in the case of major construction. Therefore, it was encouraging to read the Johnston administration will soon launch a one-stop registry office with a hoped-for 30-day turnaround.

Godsend that this should be for developers and their contractors, regulatory hurdles don’t cease with an authorization to proceed. There are intermediate inspections that must be completed and licensures to be secured between groundbreaking and receipt of an occupancy certificate. At each step there exists a tension between inspectors with an enforcement mentality and contractors pursuing simple compliance.

I encountered this friction during the years I ran Denver’s Excise and Licenses Department for Mayor Federico Peña. Although the department has had its authority restricted primarily to alcohol and marijuana licensing in recent years, at the time we also handled restaurant inspections, taxi permits and miscellaneous business licenses. Our offices were located on Colfax in the former Denver University Law School across from the Civic Center which still fronts the Webb municipal building. I arrived early one Tuesday morning to find a dozen Vietnamese wailing as if in mourning, at our entrance. I walked swiftly down the hall past the commotion to use an unmarked door. I quickly asked my office manager, Helen Gonzales, what in the world was prompting this unusual disturbance?

Helen informed me an entire family was scheduled to open a downtown restaurant on Thursday but had flunked their inspection the previous day. I asked her to have the health inspector report to my office and explain why he had failed the business before I met with the owners. He told me he had measured their “rinse sink” for large pots and found it was only 36 inches wide rather than the stipulated 39 inches. “And you denied them their license because of that,” I asked. “Absolutely,” he replied. I then inquired if he thought they had done this intentionally or were attempting to circumvent our rules. He blamed the mistake on their contractor, who had either ignored the requirement or may have been attempting to offload a smaller sink to an unsuspecting client. Rather flabbergasted, I asked, “So, what is the public health risk here?” “None,” he replied, “but we’re here to enforce our rules.”

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After conferring with the owners, who mailed out hundreds of invitations for their expected opening, I issued an order directing them to replace the sink within 30 days and awarded their certificate of occupancy. At a follow-up meeting with my inspector, I pointed out that part of his job was to assure Denver businesses were successful — and reminded him their profits were the source of the taxes paying his salary. I explained we should be seeking compliance with rules in order to protect public health and safety, not playing a “gotcha” game with businesses willing to take the risk of opening a restaurant. I couldn’t persuade the owners to let me pay for my meals when I first visited them until I threatened never to return unless they accepted my payment.

I was reminded of this tale when reading about Jovanina’s Italian restaurant on Blake Street, which was just forced to remove its outdoor sign. A flag over the sidewalk was authorized by the city during the COVID pandemic to encourage downtown patrons, but suddenly became a violation of pre-existing signage rules for the neighborhood. Threatened with $150 per-day fines, escalating to $500 per day and topping out at $999, the owners acceded to bureaucratic insistence after five years without complaint (And, we wonder why citizens resent government).

Owner Jake Linzinmeir has ordered a $13,000 replacement that complies with the city’s new/old rules but has not yet received it. Officials couldn’t wait, however, and decided they had to enforce their rules. Bully for them! Only 25% of downtown restaurants have closed. Linzinmeier points out the city seems less interested in propping up the survivors than they are in attracting competitors to its shiny, new 16th Street (formerly known as The 16th Street Mall). Apparently, they haven’t noticed Denver’s downtown has been dying. Priorities have included a first-ever lighting audit at Jovanina’s. Harassment or coincidence? Your guess is as good as mine.

I was also made aware of a similar snafu in North Denver last year. A small developer reclaimed a brownfield site at 29th and Xavier which had been contaminated by solvents from decades of a dry-cleaning operation. Following a clean-up restoration, they received an OK from the city to proceed just before COVID arrived. Their project was delayed for three years but was precisely what city planners say they want — 38 infill apartment units on a previously blighted property. The developers confirmed their permits remained current and were approved to break ground. Then, just as they thought they were approaching completion and after complying with their certified planning documents, the Fire Department appeared to inform them national standards were revised since 2019 and they would need to redo and replace several plumbing and utility riser elements. Delays ran on for five months, extending high interest construction loans to the tune of $10,000 each month. Whose side was the city on? Not the developer’s nor the public’s, it seems.

Three cheers to Mayor Mike Johnston for attacking front-end permitting delays in Denver. Let’s hope his minions don’t forget the back end while they’re at it. Without the proper mindset, they just may find themselves squeezing a balloon. As Linzinmeier notes, “It’s a bigger issue to me… part of the reason I’ve been able to stay open is because I left my sign up.” I suspect he could always take that new sign to another location. Just thinking.

Miller Hudson is a public affairs consultant and a former Colorado legislator.