Steve Mellon, Post-Gazette photos The outhouses in Unger, W.Va., are only shells but "they do catch the eye," says George Farnham, who walks past one with his wife, Pam.

By Cindi Lash
Pittsburgh Post-Gazette UNGER, W.Va. -- Tired of battling with other lawyers and big-city bustle, George Farnham chucked a law practice and a lobbying gig in Washington, D.C., and headed for the country.

He landed on a seven-acre spot in West Virginia's Eastern Panhandle, in a forested place with no public water, sewers, cable TV or big box stores, off a pretty, twisting road where passersby could drive for more than a mile without seeing another house.

Over the next two decades, he launched a career as an antiques and collectibles dealer in Unger, an unincorporated community of about 200 houses. He made friends in Unger and around artsy Berkeley Springs, a historic spa community about 15 miles to the west favored by tourists.

He amused his neighbors and attracted attention by adorning the yard behind his white cottage with the largest of his personal collections: a quartet of giant, grinning fiberglass figures and a pair of enormous apples. He married Pam, who added her own whimsy with flocks of pink plastic flamingos and live alpacas.

A few months back, the Farnhams looked out their kitchen window and saw equipment and pipes in a field across the road. A Maryland firm was planning to build a 56-house development aimed at people in the nation's capital, 80 miles away, and Virginia suburbs who were willing to trade a long commute for bigger yards and smaller mortgages.

The Farnhams were not pleased. Nor were many of their neighbors in Morgan County, which lies in the Panhandle's tip between Maryland and Virginia.

They fretted that the development, coming on the heels of others recently proposed in the region, signaled that sprawl was about to swallow the green hills and farms around them. They also worried that new wells and septic systems to serve those houses could drain their own.

Their response: In a tongue-in-cheek homage to the past, they've erected more than 80 wildly decorated wooden replicas of outhouses outside homes, at shops in Berkeley Springs and on Route 522, the region's main highway and a popular route for Pennsylvania travelers headed to and from East Coast beaches.

Their slogan: "If over-development sucks your well dry, you'll need one of these."

"They do catch the eye," Mr. Farnham said, laughing. "We have a sense of humor as part of our weaponry."

The outhouses are only shells but sport traditional half-moon cutouts or stencils over the doors and hand-lettered signs that read "Keep Morgan County Rural." Others are more artistic, daubed with Crayola-hued flowers, butterflies, peace signs and smiley faces.

The Farnhams have enlisted giant fiberglass statues in their protest. Click photo for larger image.

One family dubbed a faux privy "The Library," and added a sign asking folks to leave used books for the reading room. Another built a double house, with one stall pink and the other blue to satisfy both sexes.

The developer of the 94-acre tract across from the Farnhams' house, PVW Enterprises, obtained water and sewer permits and preliminary approval from Morgan County's Planning Commission in March.

But supporters of Outhouses of Unger, many of whom had missed newspaper advertisements and public meetings about the development, mobilized anyway. They posted outhouse plans on a Web site and held a rally last month in hopes of persuading the commission to withhold its final approval for construction.

Long-range plan urged

The issue has spurred greater attention to what had been a relatively obscure proposal to revise lot size regulations and other aspects of the county's subdivision ordinance. More people now are talking about the need for a comprehensive plan to regulate development in a growing county that has no zoning.

Outhouses of Unger members plan to ask county commissioners Friday to consider broader revisions on lot sizes and make other changes to the ordinance. They also will present petitions asking for a temporary moratorium on major subdivisions until a long-term plan is drafted.

"We're not talking about everybody getting a goat. You can have development in a smart way that abides by a plan that makes sense," said Barry White, 39, who put up an outhouse outside his Creekside Creamery cafe and store in Berkeley Springs because he fears too much development will sap community charm and turn off tourists.

As a transplant himself, Mr. Farnham, 52, said he was not trying to discourage others from moving or developing land in Morgan County.

Indeed, he said, its lack of zoning has allowed him to keep his startling collection in his yard: a giant Midas Muffler man given by his wife for his 50th birthday, a swimsuit-clad fellow they dubbed Brian Wilson who hails from a defunct New York amusement park, a strapping bag boy from the Big John grocery-store chain and a jovial Santa Claus.

What Outhouses of Unger seeks to do, he said, is control high-density development in rural areas that lack water, sewers, schools and other services new neighbors are likely to expect.

A native of Westchester County, N.Y., Mr. Farnham attended law school at George Washington University and worked as a public interest lawyer and national director of the National Organization for Reform of Marijuana Laws in Washington before relocating in 1984.

In Morgan County, he joined a congenial population that includes artists, farmers, holistic healers and others who'd grown up in or were drawn as adults to a region packed with trees, streams and warm springs, a place that 16-year-old George Washington visited in 1748.

Berkeley Springs, officially called the Town of Bath, is lined with resident-owned galleries and shops, restaurants and cafes, elegant spas and quaint bed-and-breakfast establishments that draw tourists. Cacapon State Park, Coolfont Resort on Route 522, the Potomac and Cacapon rivers and Sleepy Creek offer other recreation opportunities.

"We like the eclectic nature of the people who live here," Mr. Farnham said. "But we're more used to people moving in one at a time and being part of the community. People who would buy these houses would live and sleep in Morgan County, but get up in the morning and drive to jobs and shop in Washington or Virginia."

Well water worries

Paul VanWagner, of Rockville, Md., whose development across from the Farnhams triggered Outhouses of Unger, declined comment last week. His plan for 56 houses on 94 acres might not seem huge when compared with suburban communities crammed with McMansions on small lots clustered around cul-de-sacs.

But because most of Morgan County is not served by public water or sewage-treatment systems, those houses would be served by newly drilled wells and newly laid septic systems.

People shudder when they speak of test wells drilled this year for a different 400-unit residential development proposed in southern Morgan County. Shortly after those deep wells were drilled, a neighbor's well went dry.

That developer, who is not involved with the property across from the Farnhams, drilled a new well for the affected family and has not proceeded, county Planning Commission President Jack Soronen said. But that incident still resonates as people contemplate recent growth around the region, Mr. Soronen and others said.

Morgan County's population grew 23 percent between 1990 and 2000, according to the census, and is now around 16,000. It gained more than 1,000 people between 2000 and last year as well as small pockets of development.

Nearby Martinsburg, where people can catch a train to Washington, D.C., is one of two large cities in the state to gain population between 2000 and last year, according to a recent study by economists at West Virginia University. Twenty miles over the state line, the area around Winchester, Va., is booming. Other housing plans are under way in the Route 522 corridor.

But much of Morgan County still lacks city amenities. Roads outside Berkeley Springs are bumpy and narrow. Garbage collection is a private-pay proposition. 911 service is in the future.

"If you have a good well, you have a good thing here. If someone else is grabbing from the water table, what does it mean [for existing wells]?" said Jody Gill, 29, an owner of the Community Garden Market natural foods store in Berkeley Springs.

"When I drive around, I already see houses standing with 'For sale' signs on them," said Ms. Gill, who moved from Maryland seven years ago. "Why do we need these new houses? Can't we use resources we already have?"

Others point to relatively low property taxes -- Mr. Farnham pays about $700 a year for his seven acres, 1920s-era house and barn -- and said they were troubled by the potential cost of road improvements, new schools and other services for surges of people moving in.

Some suggest that the county begin charging impact fees from developers to cover those costs. To do so, the county has to pass a zoning ordinance, an idea that has been anathema to longtime residents, who balk at the idea of any property restrictions.

Mr. Soronen, an apple grower who owns The Star theater in Berkeley Springs, and Mr. Farnham believe a compromise can be fashioned to shape the county's future without overly restricting its people. Both draw encouragement from an continuing community debate that has turned humorous, and, for the most part, has not turned acrimonious.

"We're still small enough that it's very possible to know the individuals involved and care for them as neighbors," Mr. Soronen said. "I would like to see this be a part of a discussion of where we, as a greater community, want to see Morgan County go and deal with the problems in front of us.''