Ari Armstrong's Free Colorado

The following article by Linn and Ari Armstrong was originally published February 3 by Grand Junction Free Press.

“Patty cake, patty cake, baker’s man. Bake me a cake just as fast as you can!” But if you’re a Colorado cottage baker: “They’ll stop you and they’ll fine you, and if you don’t pay, they’ll throw you in the pokey, that’s the bureaucrats’ way.”

Thankfully local State Representative Laura Bradford sponsored a bill (1027) to legalize cottage bakeries. By the time you read this, the fate of the bill may have already been decided, so see Ari’s web page FreeColorado.com for updates. (You an also find a video there of Ari performing the opening rhyme.)

We called Mande Gabelson of Ava Sweet Cakes to ask her why she supports the bill. (Ari released most of the interview early online.) She said that working out of a professional kitchen works great for large-scale caterers, but it isn’t cost effective for smaller operations.

Gabelson said that, under current law, you “can’t bake a cake and sell it to your neighbor.” If you’re running a bake sale and “the money goes to a school, that’s okay,” but bakers “can’t put the money in their back pocket.”

“I couldn’t even sell a cake to my mom,” she added; “That would be against the law.”

And why shouldn’t she be able to sell her gorgeous cakes? Gabelson said, “You have to think about the man hours that go into something like that. I’m an artist. The typical wedding cake takes between 15 and 20 hours, and I should be paid for my skills. People come to me because of my abilities, and they want to pay me… and I should be able to take that.”

We asked her how she settled on a name for her business. She replied, “That’s my daughter. When I was 7 months pregnant with her my husband got laid off from Halliburton.” She took baking classes, and “that’s when I discovered I have this talent. When Ava was six months old I decided to name it after her.”

We first learned of the “Cake Bill” from a Republican release, which summarizes: “House Bill 1027 allows cottage industry food producers to directly sell nonpotentially hazardous foods to consumers at off-premise sites—like farmers markets and roadside stands—without being commercially licensed.

“Under the bill’s guidelines, cottage food producers would still need to register with a county or district public health agency for a fee up to $100 and carry home baker liability insurance. Their products would also need to be labeled and include specific information, like the producer’s name, ingredients and a disclaimer.”

We agree with what Bradford said in the release: “This is a common sense bill. Freeing the cottage industry from regulatory burdens intended for large-scale producers helps them grow their businesses and helps their local economy.”

This bill isn’t perfect. People should be able to sell baked goods without registering with the county or paying fees. But on the whole this bill moves us closer to economic liberty and legal sanity.

We suspect that different groups might oppose the reform. Larger-scale bakers who want to forcibly limit their competition may try to keep the law in place. Frankly, we wouldn’t trust any baker who needs to use political force to wipe out the competition. Any baker worth his salt will have enough pride to bake goods that people want to buy voluntarily in a free market.

David K. Williams, Jr., a liberty lobbyist with the Gadsden Society, said, “I think the opposition is going to come from the baker industry that wants to minimize their competition. They want to keep the consumer from buying from somebody else. From a liberty position, if someone bakes a cake, and someone else wants to buy it from them, they should be able to. A regulation preventing that kind of option is harmful to the consumer and the economy.”

Some of the professional kitchens might oppose the reform, as the law would no longer compel small-scale bakers to use their facilities. Again, the law should protect people’s rights, not give some businesses an unfair advantage.

Finally, the Nanny State whiners hate liberty and want to shackle everyone with bureaucratic controls.

Gabelson offered the appropriate answer to them: “If you don’t want to eat cottage food, you don’t have to.”

Williams pointed out that consumers direct the market: “Obviously anybody selling bad cake isn’t going to be in business anymore.”

Today, far too many stupid laws impede entrepreneurs and give politically-connected businesses unfair advantages. Such laws squash economic progress and kill jobs.

The “cake bill” is a bit of welcomed yeast to help leaven the spirit of liberty here in Colorado.

Linn Armstrong is a local political activist and firearms instructor with the Grand Valley Training Club. His son, Ari, edits FreeColorado.com from the Denver area.

Update: See also my February 2 note, as well as today’s article on the topic by the Independence Institute’s Krista Kafer.

Also check out my sweet video:

The following article by Linn and Ari Armstrong originally was published October 14 by Grand Junction Free Press.

The following discussion took place in an alternate universe very much like our own, but different in a few important respects. Any resemblance to real persons in our universe, living or dead, is purely accidental.

The scene is a coffee shop in a town called Great Junction, a town nestled between the Federal Monument, the Bookcliffs, and the Great Mesa. Ralph sits at a table, sipping his brew, sharing a quiet conversation with a few friends.

“Here’s how it went down,” Ralph began. “For three years my son John and I tried to open a shoe store over at the strip mall by Urban Market. We developed a great business plan and lined up our funding, and John finished up his degree in business while working in a shoe store on the side to earn experience in the industry.

“We did all the basic work in the first year. But then John reminded me we had to apply to the state Shoe Utility Commission, or SUC. I guess their job is to ensure that shoes meet their standards of utility, whatever that means. SUC required us to ask permission from the other shoe store in town, Shoe Central, before we could go into business.”

At this point Ralph’s friend Henry barged in, “Now hold on there, Ralph, you mean to tell me SUC wanted you to get the permission of your competitor to go into business? That can’t be right. That’s just insane! When I opened up my burger joint I didn’t have to ask permission from McDoogle’s! What’s next: are they going to make Cameron here ask permission from Orange Cabs to keep his own cab up and running?”

Cameron snorted at the absurdity.

Ralph took a breath, pushed up his shoulders, and continued, “Well, SUC uses pretty fancy language to describe asking permission. SUC says new shoe stores have to ‘show a public convenience and necessity’ before they’ll issue a shoe-store license, all to prevent ‘ruinous competition.’ And SUC was pretty keen on hearing Shoe Central’s claim that it already met the local demand for shoes.”

Henry could not contain himself. “‘Ruinous competition?’ What the hell does that mean? Most businesses compete for customers; that’s part of what makes them work hard to offer good service. Shouldn’t people have a choice about where they buy their shoes?”

After a pause Cameron asked, “So what happened next?”

Ralph continued, “At least SUC let us ask some local residents whether they’d benefit from a new shoe store in town.”

Henry started turning red in the face. “But wait a minute! Doesn’t a customer say he wants to shop at a store every time he walks in and spends some money? People say lots of things, but when they put their money on the counter, that’s what counts, right? How can a bunch of pencil-pushing bureaucrats predict where people want to shop? Isn’t that what the marketplace is for?”

“That’s what I always thought,” Ralph replied.

“So did SUC give you a permit to open a shoe store?” Cameron asked.

“SUC finally signed off on our shoe store, after forcing us to waste tens of thousands of dollars waiting around,” Ralph said.

Henry exhaled sharply.

“Unfortunately, Shoe Central then took the matter to court so a judge could make the decision.”

Henry jumped to his feet, spilling his coffee. “You mean, once you kiss the backsides of SUC bureaucrats for a few years, then you’ve got to start all over with a judge? What country did you say we’re living in, again?”

“Take a seat, Henry, it’s over,” Ralph said. “Amazingly, the judge also signed off on our store. But then SUC got to work again. SUC said we could carry only five types of shoes, and only in three sizes. Also, only people who lived within six blocks of the strip mall could shop at our store. SUC also dictated the prices we could charge for shoes. So we couldn’t charge more for better shoes, and if our stock piled up or dwindled we couldn’t raise or lower our prices. We’ll see if we can make a go of it.”

Henry said nothing. He sat hunched over, a single tear welling in his eye, staring at his cap with the emblem of his military service.

After a few moments of silence, a perky young lady walked up to the table and said, “I couldn’t help but overhearing, but I for one am grateful that SUC protects the consumer from the anarchy of the marketplace. Shoes are just too important to society to let just anybody sell them. Who would protect us from too many shoes and unfair pricing?”

The woman turned up her nose, spun on her Shoe Central high heels, and walked away. Ralph stared into his coffee.

Those of us living on the alternate side of the universe can only thank heaven that nothing as crazy as the SUC exists in our world.

The following article by Linn and Ari Armstrong originally was published November 11 by Grand Junction Free Press.

The cantaloupe-caused outbreak of listeria created a tragedy for those infected by the bacteria and for their families. As of the end of last month, the death toll had risen to 28, the number of reported illnesses had climbed to 133, and one infected woman miscarried.

Though less important, the outbreak also created a tragedy for Colorado agriculture. Jensen Farms, responsible for spreading the bacteria, sits on the opposite side of the state. Yet Grand Junction has long been the home of fruit growers, and no doubt everyone associated with the industry can imagine the horror of getting caught up in something like that.

Colorado cantaloupes are among the best in the world. We have not seen good estimates on how much money the outbreak cost the growers of healthy cantaloupes, nor how much it may weaken the market for Colorado cantaloupes into the future.

While there is good reason to believe that Jensen Farms contributed to the outbreak through irresponsible practices (more on that below), it is also important to keep in mind the context of the illnesses. As of the 28th victim, the median age was 84. Prior to modern detection methods, such deaths often would have been chalked up to old age. In many cases, the listeria must be considered a contributing factor of death.

Bacteria are everywhere; the human body contains around ten times as many bacteria as human cells. We run into contact with potentially dangerous bacteria on a daily basis. Usually, our bodies fight them off.NPR ran an informative story last month pointing out that thousands of people probably ingested the listeria from the cantaloupes, and in most cases stomach acids killed these bacteria. Note too that some 128,000 Americans check into the hospital every year because of foodborne illness, and 3,000 die.

However, even though listeria mostly attacks people with already compromised immunities, obviously farmers should strive to take reasonable precautions to avoid the spread of dangerous bacteria. Jensen Farms seems not to have done that.

For example, “the farm had stopped adding a chlorine-based agent to its wash water,” reported the Denver Post‘s Michael Booth (who has done a generally good job covering the story and sorting through the relevant reports). Tap water gets chlorine treatment to kill pathogens, and it’s reasonable to think it could have helped prevent listeria growth. In addition, the Food and Drug Administration raised concerns about Jensen’s cooling systems, sorters, and more, Booth reported.

The question is what should be done to improve safety. Merely the financial risk of lawsuits may sufficiently motivate cantaloupe growers to double-check their safety procedures. Booth reported that Jensen “and its distributor, Frontera Produce of Texas, already face multiple wrongful-death lawsuits.”

What didn’t seem to work is a private audit; one of Booth’s headlines reads, “Private audit at Jensen Farms before listeria outbreak failed to flag woes.” Primus Labs gave Jensen Farms high scores just before the bad mellons shipped. We haven’t looked into the incentive structure of such deals or the details of that particular inspection enough to determine what went wrong; we do, however, wonder whether the inspection lab also opened itself up to tort liability.

Colorado Agriculture Commissioner John Salazar, formerly the area’s Congressional representative, wants to expand state oversight. (See Booth’s coverage of this story as well.) We appreciate Salazar’s relatively light touch here (not that he had much choice given state law): he suggests a possible “Colorado Proud” label that would require meeting certain guidelines.

We like the idea of a certification process, and we understand why other cantaloupe farmers support the idea. Responsible farmers want a good way to distinguish their products and separate themselves from their less-reputable competitors. However, we don’t see why the state needs to get involved in it. We think an independent agency, comparable to Underwriters Laboratories or Consumer Reports, can handle the job without bureaucratic assistance. No doubt grocers who sell the melons would look to such certification standards with great interest.

If we have one complaint about Booth’s reporting, it is that it seems to sometimes veer off into editorial waters by promoting more federal oversight. We don’t think the listeria outbreak warrants that, though we recognize the federal government’s Constitutional authority to “regulate” interstate trade. Frankly, the lawsuits alone will likely fix the problems, though we’d also like to see the improved certification.

Life is filled with risk. The only way to totally prevent foodborne illness is to stop eating. (We are, however, also intrigued by the potential to irradiate more food to kill pathogens.) If government regulators overreact, they threaten to raise food prices — something that creates its own health problems — and destroy certain businesses or even industries. Eating listeria-infected cantaloupe is dangerous, but so is throwing people out of work.

Remember not only those who recently got sick, but the multitudes who have enjoyed eating healthy Colorado cantaloupes, still among the best in the world.

[Update: Jennifer Brown and Michael Booth wrote a great article for the November 14 Denver Post discussing the wider problem of foodborne illness and offering some common-sense advice about it.]