At 62, the former Peace Corps volunteer with roots in Price Hill, Finneytown and Hyde Park has become the region's go-to guy when it comes to legal matters of land use, zoning and development. If you want to build, but your project doesn't quite fit where you want it, come to Joe Trauth's Fourth Street office at Keating Muething & Klekamp. Developers come to him to get things changed. To change how a property is zoned to build a shopping center, for instance, or to allow for a humongous sign outside a trendy store. Trauth tackles projects big and small, from the planned $145.5 million expansion of the Rumpke Sanitary Landfill in Colerain Township to preserving the street entrance of a mom-and-pop store, Plants By Wolfangel, in Anderson Township. No matter how deep the client's pockets, Trauth guides his practice by this principle: "I don't like to see government encroaching on people's rights."
Micronesia RPCV Joe Trauth chases bulldozers - and says he's proud of it
Chasing bulldozers
Big, small cases - he's built a tough-guy image
BY CLIFF RADEL |
CRADEL@ENQUIRER.COM
Some lawyers, as the tired put-down goes, chase ambulances.
Joe Trauth chases bulldozers - and says he's proud of it.
The Cincinnati attorney possesses the legal ingenuity to outmaneuver zoning restrictions and make just about any real estate project happen.
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At 62, the former Peace Corps volunteer with roots in Price Hill, Finneytown and Hyde Park has become the region's go-to guy when it comes to legal matters of land use, zoning and development.
If you want to build, but your project doesn't quite fit where you want it, come to Joe Trauth's Fourth Street office at Keating Muething & Klekamp.
Developers come to him to get things changed. To change how a property is zoned to build a shopping center, for instance, or to allow for a humongous sign outside a trendy store.
Trauth tackles projects big and small, from the planned $145.5 million expansion of the Rumpke Sanitary Landfill in Colerain Township to preserving the street entrance of a mom-and-pop store, Plants By Wolfangel, in Anderson Township.
No matter how deep the client's pockets, Trauth guides his practice by this principle:
"I don't like to see government encroaching on people's rights."
Trauth made that comment a day after a rare defeat. The night before, Sharonville's City Council voted unanimously against a plan by Fischer Homes, Trauth's client, to put 89 homes and 196 condos on 67 acres occupied by a closed school and nature preserve.
"I don't feel good," Trauth said in very measured tones. "I ... do ... not ... like ... to ... lose."
He felt even worse for the members of Sharonville's City Council.
"They made the wrong decision," he said. "If we pursue this to the end, we'll win."
That's vintage Joe Trauth. The lawyer, who laughs when he's told he's been called the human face of planetary defoliation, always wants to take his case to the next level. He wants to win. That's why clients come to him in droves.
From his office overlooking what could one day be the Banks project on Cincinnati's riverfront, Trauth oversees cases in the news. He even has a vested interest in the view from his office. He represents downtown business interests who want to make sure The Banks doesn't get taller buildings than originally planned. That might block his view - and that of his clients.
Trauth's client list includes West Chester's IKEA store and its huge sign; Legacy Place, a Green Township shopping center planned for a patch of pristine woods that had been zoned residential and retail; a proposed motor-sports park in Crosby Township that officials denied because of the potential for noise and noxious emissions; the Erickson Retirement Community set to straddle Glendale and Evendale; a Wal-Mart bound for Harrison, where citizens and city officials object to it; and home builders opposing impact fees in Warren County's Hamilton Township.
"People see him winning these NIMBY (Not In My Backyard) cases," said Bill Rumpke Sr., president of Rumpke Consolidated Cos. Inc., the landfill's parent company and Trauth's client since 1976. "They're a very hard sell. So, now, everybody wants to go to Joe."
They started coming to see Trauth after he sued the city of Montgomery, which in 1987 had rejected a plan to build an office building at Interstate 71 and Pfeiffer Road. He won the right for his client to build the Ohio National office building. The case lasted eight years and six trials. Trauth won all six, plus a $3.5 million settlement for his client in 1995.
His phone started ringing.
The man they're calling is alternately described, by friends and foes alike, as laid-back and hard-charging, indefatigable and passionate. The son of a chemical engineer and a housewife, the oldest son and second-oldest child of Joe and Margaret Trauth's six children, Joseph L. Trauth Jr. grew up in Price Hill. He is distantly related to the founders of Trauth Dairy.
His family moved to Finneytown when he was 9. "That was in the boonies then," Trauth said. "But it was great for me."
An offhand question from a neighbor, attorney Charles Keating, landed Trauth, then a St. Xavier High School senior, a summer job as a go-fer at Keating's family law firm, Keating Muething & Klekamp, where Trauth eventually hung his shingle.
Before going to law school, Trauth spent two years in the Peace Corps. "I saw a brochure: 'The Peace Corps goes to Polynesia.' It sounded exciting, and it was."
Returning from the coconut islands to Cincinnati, Trauth eventually went to work for Charles Keating's brother, Congressman William Keating. Still in law school, Trauth ran Keating's congressional office in Cincinnati.
"That's where I learned how government works. That led to where I am today."
Trauth often finds himself in a government hearing or a courtroom. Both settings allow him to showcase his singular style.
When he enters the room, he speaks in hushed tones. His eyes narrow, gunslinger style, as he asks questions. He takes offense at sarcastic remarks directed at his client. Shots fired are returned.
"He doesn't rant and rave," Rumpke said. "But he takes each case as his own. He won't be walked on."
Trauth's presence can be seen in terms of gunboat diplomacy. When he steams into a port and drops anchor, that sends a signal, Rumpke said: "A serious issue is at stake."
Attorney Tim Mara has opposed Trauth dozens of times. He usually represents citizen groups opposing a development.
The only time he remembers Trauth siding against a developer was when the planned Hyde Park Community Methodist Church expansion hit too close to home. The expansion - still working through the courts - would border the backyards of Trauth's neighbors. He would see it from his front yard.
"Joe used some of the same arguments I use when I go against him, " Mara said. " 'The development will lower property values. It's not the proper land use next to homes. Oops! There go the trees.' "
Trauth appreciates the irony. But, like every good lawyer, he can explain why, as he put it, he went "over to the other side."
Land-use cases come down to "the old real estate cliché 'location, location, location,' " Trauth said. "This proposed development is surrounded on three sides by residential homes. All land-use law is dependent upon what is immediately abutting you."
As Trauth spoke, his desk held plans from a new client. A Nashville firm wants to build a power plant in Middletown. The plans show an aerial view of the land. The plot, outlined in black, is currently a farm.
"We'll have to rezone," Trauth said as he rolled up the plans.
"There's always something on the drawing board."
