Oak Cliff Businessman Says the City Reneged on Zoning Rules

"My MO is not to go around picking on any kind of particular business in this area—that's not what my track record is," Spence says.

But in November 2002, Spence resigned from his seat on the city's plan and zoning commission after an ethics panel reprimanded him for abusing his power. That came after a Dallas Observer story that reported how Spence tried to obtain an Oak Cliff restaurateur's liquor license application in what Spence called a "silly neighborhood pissing match." The restaurant owner viewed it more seriously and claimed Spence was using his stature to prevent him from opening.

Five years later, Segura says that Spence is back to his old tricks. Of course, Spence, a one-time ally of former Mayor Laura Miller, is no longer a city board member, and while he might be a prominent developer in Oak Cliff, it's not clear he still has any pull with city officials. Spence forwarded a series of e-mails he sent to city officials complaining about Segura's property, and many of those went unanswered for months.

In any case, Spence is clearly not the only neighborhood resident who has gripes about Segura's business. Others have also complained to the city that he wasn't providing any parking for his prospective customers and that he was stationing his used cars on the sidewalk.

"As the president of the Bishop Arts Merchant association, a property owner in the district, and a resident off Davis, I cannot tell you how disappointing it is to see such a poor development take place during a time when we are all actively working to redevelop Davis to better serve the needs of area residents," wrote Rob Shearer in an e-mail to area council member Elba Garcia.

Still, nobody matched the indignation of Spence, whose rousing and prolific prose seemed wasted on the subject of a car lot.

"In more than a dozen e-mails with city staff I have patiently laid out the issues and offered my observations, assuming that city employees don't need to be prodded into action like cattle if they have the facts in front of them and a polite request from a knowledgeable citizen," he wrote in an e-mail to Garcia. "Well, I'm about to go out and buy me a blow horn and a cattle prod. The system has utterly failed to protect the neighborhoods around Davis and other legitimate investors from the kind of lawless development that holds Oak Cliff back every bit as much as graffiti, muggings and drug-dealing."

Not everyone thinks that Segura is bringing down the neighborhood. Rebecca Charles, who works as a bookkeeper at Butch's Auto Clinic directly across the street, says that Segura fixed up an old, abandoned house and cleaned a vacant, treeless yard filled with weeds and closed off, in places, by an old barbed-wire fence.

"It's been a vacant lot forever," she says. "It looks a lot better than it did before."

City officials say that even though neighborhood residents informed them of Segura's code violations, officials were not unduly influenced. It just turns out that the neighbors were right. Chris Bowers, an attorney with the city, says that the city just wants Segura to follow the law and are willing to work with him to make sure he's in compliance. Segura, meanwhile, is exasperated. He is looking into hiring a lawyer and is also hoping for a helping hand from the Hispanic Chamber of Commerce.

But with neighbors watching his every move, Segura is being a little reckless. He acknowledges he's sold a few cars from his lot, even though he still hasn't received his permit. That's illegal. With the city giving him a hard time over his palm trees, what are they going to do now that he's breaking the law? The neighbors may get their way yet.