Prince George Exclave

On March 19, 2017 · 6 Comments

Every once in awhile I receive a tip where I need to drop everything so I can search for an explanation. Frequent reader "Aaron" discovered an exclave that I’d never seen before. Shockingly, it appeared in my own home state of Virginia and I’d actually driven through the exclave during my county counting adventures. How did I not notice it?

That’s all it took to suck me down into a rabbit hole for most of a Saturday afternoon.

The Exclave

The exclave definitely existed. I examined several sources and found it each time. Check it out:

Prince George Exclave
Prince George Co., VA Exclave
via Mob Rule

Virginia’s independent city of Hopewell carved its territory from the northwestern corner of Prince George County, at the confluence of the Appomattox and James Rivers. Prince George surrounded Hopewell on three sides — east, west and south — while Chesterfield County hugged its northern shore across the Appomattox. However, a tiny dot of Prince George stood alone, stranded from the rest of the county. This overlapped a segment of Virginia State Route 10, Randolph Road. Someone driving south from Chesterfield along the road would first hit Prince George (sign) and then enter Hopewell (sign) only 0.32 miles (0.5 km) later. This wasn’t an inconsequential road either. It supported an Annual Average Daily Traffic Volume of 19,000 vehicles.

Prince George Exclave View
Inside the Exclave
via Google Street View, September 2016

This brief slice of Prince George coincided with a bridge crossing the Appomattox, from the river midpoint to where the bridge returned to dry land. The exclave formed a rectangle no wider than the bridge itself. I will visit it someday. Fortunately there appeared to be a safe point to explore it, on Riverside Avenue directly below the bridge. That, of course, fell within the exclave too.

Annexation by Independent Cities

Hopewell Welcome Sign
Welcome to Hopewell. Photo by J. Stephen Conn on Flickr (cc)

The Commonwealth of Virginia maintained an odd assortment of independent cities, a highly rare arrangement within the United States. Of the 41 independent cities found in the U.S., 38 of them fell within Virginia (only the cities of Baltimore, St. Louis and Carson City did not). I’ve mentioned this anomaly several times in 12MC over the years, usually in reference to my county counting pursuits. Those independent cities were not subservient to their surrounding counties and thus "counted" as county equivalents.

I hadn’t looked much at the mechanics of it until now. Fortunately I found a publication from the University of Virginia’s Weldon Cooper Center for Public Service. The arrangement extended all the way back to Virginia’s colonial era, an artifact carried over to modern times. Cities could annex land from adjacent counties as needed. However, counties generally did not like to cede their territory. This situation begged for an equitable process so the General Assembly adopted revised procedures in 1904. It required proposed annexation to go to a special court composed of three judges who would listen to both sides before making a decision. The court approved about 80% of annexations over the years according to this publication. Virginia recognized 128 of 160 proposed city-county annexations until it implemented a moratorium in 1987. Annexations caused too much animosity between cities and counties.

Hopewell incorporated as an Independent City in 1914. Thus, it followed the 1904 procedures. The 3-judge panel would have adjudicated Hopewell’s formation and any expansions. The resulting exclave must have been an explicit and intentional act on Hopewell’s part. There must have been a specific reason for Hopewell to exclude that tiny sliver of Prince George. It was not an accident.

Byrd Road Act

Harry F. Byrd
Harry F. Byrd. Wikimedia Commons; in the Public Domain

Then what might have been the reason? I found a likely candidate in some Depression-era legislation, Chapter 415 of the 1932 Acts of the General Assembly. This was more commonly called the Byrd Road Act. Harry Flood Byrd controlled Virginia politics for a half century through his Byrd Organization, a powerful political machine. He served as governor from 1926-1930, then as a U.S. Senator from 1933-1965. The legislation in question focused on secondary roads, enacting Byrd’s vision even though he no longer served as governor.

The Depression hit Virginia’s rural counties particularly hard. They didn’t have enough money to pave most of their roads, much less maintain them. They Act offered a novel solution. Control of secondary roads reverted to the state at the discretion of each county. State tax receipts would then fund construction and maintenance. An estimate at the time predicted that the Act "would reduce rural taxes by $2,895,102 annually." This seemed like an excellent trade-off and nearly every county accepted the offer (and today only Henrico and Arlington Counties control their own secondary roads as a result).

However, money had to come from somewhere. The Act excluded independent cities which still had to maintain their own secondary roads. Additionally, more people and more wealth concentrated in cities. Therefore state taxes paid by city residents subsidize road construction and maintenance in counties. Cities got hit twice, once for their own roads and again to support rural roads throughout the state. That was just fine by the Byrd Organization which found its base of power in rural counties. Even today people marvel at the wonderful, beautiful roads in the middle of nowhere throughout Virginia. Thank the Byrd Road Act.


Now, back to that bridge carrying drivers on Route 10 across the Appomattox River. If Hopewell annexed the land and water beneath the bridge then Hopewell’s taxes would have to maintain the bridge. If Hopewell declined to annex the bridge — leaving behind a tiny pocket of Prince George County — the state of Virginia would have to maintain it. That created a powerful financial incentive for Hopewell to exclude the bridge from its annexation proposal. Prince George County wouldn’t care. It wouldn’t have to pay for maintenance regardless.

I never found an official government document that said explicitly that this was the reason. However, I believed a preponderance of the evidence pointed clearly towards that direction. It made perfect sense and no other reason seemed plausible. The only other mention of this exclave anywhere on the Intertubes seemed to reach a similar conclusion.

Ironic Addendum

Virginia’s counties got a great bargain in 1932. However, the system began to fray over the decades especially for rapidly urbanizing counties. A report published by George Mason University in 2011 concluded,

Almost one-third of Virginia’s secondary road system is currently deficient, and programs designed to attract county participation in construction and maintenance are not working… the Virginia Department of Transportation’s (VDOT) secondary construction program has provided minimal funding support for constructing new secondary roads in recent years…

Some localities, like Fairfax County with over a million residents, began to chafe under a system where the state controlled its secondary roads. Insufficient, traffic-clogged roads threatened to strangle the county with gridlock. Fairfax even began to explore conversion to independent city status in order to regain that control.

One Final Note

A special thank you to Aaron. This page now serves as the definitive source of information for the maybe ten people on the entire planet who want to know about this exclave. I can’t believe I spent more than 1,200 words talking about a plot of land only a third of a mile long by a hundred feet wide. That’s why you read Twelve Mile Circle. Right?

Right Up to the Line (again)

On December 20, 2010 · 11 Comments

This is my second attempt to present this article, following the debacle yesterday evening when I posted a rough outline. That was the first time I’d hit the publish button prematurely in nearly 500 articles. I suppose it was bound to happen eventually. Hopefully it didn’t cause too much confusion.

The whole point of this article, which may or may not have been apparent from the inadvertent draft, is to feature businesses that go directly up to a border without actually crossing it for economic reasons. This is the flip-side to an earlier article I provided about buildings that straddle a border, or something I called Bordersplit.

Jurisdictions may have different taxes or cultural norms. A product on one side might have a higher price or it might even be illegal on the other. These disparities create powerful business opportunities. Someone can set up shop on the more permissive side and entice customers across.

Sales Tax

View Larger Map

New Hampshire doesn’t have a sales tax. Its neighbor, Massachusetts has one of the higher sales taxes, at 6.25%. Many Massachusetts residents are a short drive away from instant savings, with plenty of New Hampshire businesses located at the first exit for their convenience.

Pheasant Lane Mall focuses a business model centered around this precept, attracting more Massachusetts customers than natives. The buildings are so close to the border than much of the parking lot extends into the neighboring state. Google Maps includes an error here by the way, placing the border about 40-50 feet north of the actual location. The real border is marked on the pavement. One segment can be seen above the three cars in the parking lot. Follow that line across and notice that the edge of the building has an irregular side designed to hug the boundary, stopping within inches without crossing it.

There is a story, quite possibly apocryphal, that accounts for the strange shape of the JC Penny store. As legend goes, the corner of the department store once straddled the boundary ever-so-slightly. Massachusetts, sometimes derided as "Taxachusetts," responded by declaring that all purchases made within the mall would be subject to their sales tax. The mall owners replied by lopping-off a small corner of the building to keep it entirely within New Hampshire. I have some doubts about the story — I think it more likely that the architects simply worked within understood space limitations — but it’s still fun to consider. Take that tax man!


Grotere kaart weergeven

I have a good friend who lives in Belgium. He frequently recommended that I cross into Luxembourg whenever I wandered anywhere near the border. Petrol is considerably cheaper in Luxembourg than in surrounding countries due to tax differences.

Martelange-haut Luxembourg
SOURCE: Panoramio (user vnk08); under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike License

I borrowed this image from Panoramio to demonstrate the situation more dramatically. There is a stretch of the N4 road, Route D’Arlong, running directly along the border. Luxembourg is on one side and Belgium is on the other. Notice the row of fuel stations starting just beyond the Maison Rouge Restaurant on the left side of the image. That’s on the Luxembourg side.


View Larger Map

Many parts of the United States limit fireworks severely or ban them entirely. South Carolina has a much more permissive attitude. Pretty much anything that the U.S. Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives approves for sale to the public is available in South Carolina year-round. I have fond childhood memories of friends returning from trips down south with large bags of firecrackers, cherry bombs, bottle rockets, M-80’s, and a whole range of exploding shells and projectiles. Our neighborhood would resound with the concussions of smuggled goodies for several days.

Much of this stash seemed to come from South of the Border, as in south of the North Carolina border. It’s the first (or last) place where extreme fireworks could be purchased legally along busy Interstate 95. Even I’ve stopped at South of the Border. It’s hard to resist a hundred miles of relentless billboard advertising.


View Larger Map

Gambling is a huge example. I touched on this previously when I wrote about an esoteric time zone issue in the Wendover article. Wendover, Utah faces economic uncertainty while West Wendover, Nevada prospers. The primary difference is that West Wendover is the closest Nevada location to Salt Lake City, a two-hour shot due west on Interstate 80. Gamblers from a restrictive state flock to West Wendover for a quick gaming fix.

Other examples would include the proliferation of Native American gaming enterprises that have sprouted in areas where gambling hasn’t been allowed traditionally.

Bad Signs

On February 16, 2009 · 1 Comments

I spent most of the day preparing my Federal income taxes so I’m not in much of a mood to think of anything profound. I swear the tax code gets more complicated every year. I’m wiped out. Come back in a couple of days and I promise I’ll have a topic that requires a though process. Here’s something juvenile to tide you over until then.

Rod Blagojevich Wecomes you to Illinois
How’s that job working out for you, Mr. Blagojevich?

Last June I visited Wisconsin‘s Point of Beginning, the starting place for every public survey conducted in the state. It’s right along the Illinois border so I wandered over to the line and snapped the "Welcome to Illinois" sign since I was there anyway. I also made sure I stepped a few feet across the boundary so I could pick up a new county. All-in-all a rather routine jaunt.

I’d forgotten all about the sign so imagine my surprise when I was looking through my files yesterday and stumbled across this image I published originally last summer. Someone was stealing my bandwidth by linking an image without attribution so I was in the process of doing something nefarious to them and my eye happened to catch the Illinois photo.

My, how things have changed in the intervening eight months. Rod Blagojevich of course no longer serves as Governor of Illinois, having been removed from office a couple of weeks ago in the wake of his arrest for bribery and a variety of other charges. I’d never heard of the guy when I took the photo. Now it’s an interesting keepsake to remind one of a strange time in Illinois politics.

Aso Cafe
Would you eat at the ASO Cafe?

We took the family out to dinner over the weekend at our favorite Mexican/Salvadorean place nearby. Normally called the El Paso Cafe, it’s experienced a rather unfortunate neon lighting failure. My older son is just learning to read so here’s the scene:

SON: Hey dad, part of the sign on El Paso is burned out.
DAD: (chuckle) Indeed it is.
SON: Yeh, it says AAAH… uh… it says AAAHSS… uh…
DAD: Nope, not a word. Quick let’s get inside before we get cold.

Dad dodges a bullet but returns a couple hours later with digital camera.

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