County governments can do little to stop or regulate hog farms like this one near Pisgah in northeast Alabama.

   On the worst days, the stench of hog manure seeps into Brenda Ivey's home like cyanide into a gas chamber. It invades and pervades every square inch.

   She hangs dryer sheets in front of air vents, empties cans of air freshener, even stuffs towels around the cracks of doors leading to the outside, all to no avail.

   For the past two years, Mrs. Ivey has lived next door to a 4,000-head hog farm.

   "You wear a mask to mow your lawn," she says. "You hold your nose to keep from throwing up to go from your vehicle to your house. I don't feel like we live in America."

   But she does. In Ider, a DeKalb County town of about 750 people tucked into the extreme northeast corner of Alabama.

   Mrs. Ivey and her family are among the hundreds of victims hogtied by the ill effects from thousands of nearby pigs. And they're hogtied by Alabama's century-old constitution.

   The framers of the 1901 constitution - a coven of industrialists and land barons intent on protecting and preserving their power - deliberately centered control in Montgomery, at the expense of Alabama's counties. They believed, rightly, that it's easier to control one Legislature than it is to control 67 county governments. So they designed a constitution that forced county governments to go begging to the Legislature for local laws. The constitution also forced amendments for any exceptions to state law sought by counties.

   The result is a broken-down system of local governments that has little ability to make positive change, strangling progress, especially in urban counties. It absolutely handcuffs government efficiency at the local level. Without legislative approval, counties can't raise property taxes to better fund schools. They can't adopt zoning regulations that could prevent, for example, a hog farm from rising right next door to homes. They can't assess fees for fire protection or water and sewer service.

   Hog farms are the most odoriferous side effect of county governments that have no local control. But there are lots of goofy laws and constitutional amendments wrought by counties' lack of what is commonly known as home rule.

   One of the most recent additions to the constitution was an amendment only for Jefferson County banning prostitution in areas outside city limits.

   The Jefferson County Department of Revenue a few years back had to ask permission of the Legislature to allow residents to make credit card payments over the Internet to renew car, boat or mobile home registrations and avoid the long lines at the county courthouse.

   For sheer lunacy, there's Fayette County's beaver tail bounty. The $10-per-tail bounty, set up nearly 20 years ago to reduce flooding caused by beaver dams, was costing the county about $5,000 a year. Commissioners were suspicious they were paying bounty on tails coming from other counties. They had to beg a local lawmaker to sponsor a bill in Montgomery that would allow them to stop the bounty.

   Limestone County had to seek an amendment to be able to dispose of dead farm animals and excavate human graves.

   Mobile County had to ask the Legislature for an amendment allowing it to control mosquitoes and rodents.

   Home rule would make all of this sort of silliness unnecessary. But lawmakers like the current setup, despite the fact it means more work for them. About half of lawmakers' time in the 2000 session was spent on local issues. Why don't they mind? Because they relish their stranglehold on local government issues. That's especially true in rural Alabama, where one senator may have control over several county commissions.

   And having to rely on the Legislature means that only during a few months of a year - during a legislative session - can a county government get a problem fixed. Sometimes, several years may pass if a local lawmaker kills the bill or it dies during the legislative process. All it takes is one lawmaker to stop a local bill in its tracks. That hardly makes for the kind of responsive, efficient government that Gov. Don Siegelman espouses.

   Alabama is the only state in the Southeast without at least some home rule for counties. Because cities gained some home rule power soon after the 1901 constitution, the smallest incorporated city in Alabama has more power to conduct its affairs than Jefferson County, the state's most populous with more than 650,000 people.

   Unfortunately, nothing is likely to change any time soon.

   The Association of County Commissions of Alabama, which lobbies the Legislature for county commissions, has essentially given up after years of trying to get a full-bore, home-rule bill passed. Now, its strategy each session is to pass a small piece of legislation that either limits the Legislature's authority over counties, like a recent bill that prevents unfunded mandates on local governments, or gives county governments more authority. A bill a few years ago gave counties more control on setting standards for subdivisions.

   Nor is this an issue the public gets excited about. Those who study the issue say it will take a watershed event, like a major corporation leaving, or refusing to come to an area of the state, because local government can't respond to its needs. Either that, or strong leadership, especially from the governor's office, to recognize that government closest to the people is the best government, that efficient government is good government, and that accountable local government inspires and involves citizens.

   Unfortunately, Siegelman hasn't seen fit to recognize the importance of letting counties govern themselves. Last year he signed into law the perfect example of why counties need home rule: the awful "fix" to Jefferson County's occupational tax that lawmakers passed, giving the local delegation almost $30 million for pet projects to help get themselves re elected.

   Government of the people, by the people and for the people? Not in 67 Alabama counties. Not any time soon. Not until Alabama has a new constitution that puts power where it belongs.

   This ham-fisted way of controlling local government from the state capital has a strong, distinct odor. Just like a giant hog farm next door.

Next: Wet Rag

Reprinted with Permission from The Birmingham News.