Is a contract worth the paper it’s printed on? That’s the real subject of a hearing today in Montgomery County Circuit Court, where a lawsuit has been filed against Johns Hopkins University over its plans to build a high-rise commercial “Science Park” on the old Belward Farm in Rockville. The lawsuit claims the development violates a 1989 contract transferring ownership of the farm to the university — one of several filed nationwide that accuse universities of accepting large gifts from donors, and then ignoring restrictions that are integral parts of the contributions.
Tim Newell remembers baling hay at the historic dairy farm, which he visited often as a child. Located at the intersection of Darnestown and Muddy Branch roads, the farm was established in 1873 by Newell’s great-grandparents, Ignatius Beall Ward and Elizabeth Ward, who left it to their seven children.
By 1928, Frances Ward Banks had bought out her siblings. She raised her three children on the rural property, and Beulah Newell, Elizabeth Banks and Roland Banks eventually inherited it. Sixty years later, the farm was a green oasis encircled by a fast-growing suburb.
Newell says his Aunt Elizabeth, a retired Montgomery County teacher and the only sibling still living on the farm full time, did not want it to disappear. She rejected offers from developers for the increasingly valuable real estate, even running one off her land with a shotgun.
But she could not run off county tax collectors, who slapped a one-time $785,000 road improvement assessment on Belward Farm to widen Darnestown Road.
Neither Banks nor her siblings had that kind of money. Instead of selling the family farm to pay the tax, they decided to donate it to Hopkins.
Under the 1989 contract, the university acquired a 100-acre parcel for $5 million, agreeing that it would “be developed and used only for academic and related purposes … and be known as the ‘Belward Campus of the Johns Hopkins University.’ ”
The remaining 30 acres could be developed commercially “to create revenue to support the [university’s] academic activities.” A wooded “buffer zone” between the two parcels would be maintained.
Elizabeth Banks would live on the farm until her death, and her siblings would receive a guaranteed lifetime annuity. Hopkins agreed to “abide in good faith by these terms for at least 50 years.”
At the time, the farm was valued at $54 million. “This was a $49 million gift to Hopkins,” Newell pointed out. “The 30-acre parcel had zero development restrictions, so Hopkins gave it to the county in 1997 in lieu of road improvements.” The county proceeded to bulldoze the buffer zone and commercially develop the smaller tract.
“My aunt was incensed, since the county caused her problems all along the way,” Newell added. “This was a stab in her heart.” So perhaps it was a blessing that Elizabeth Banks died before Hopkins decided to stab her in the back as well.
There’s simply no “good faith” way to replace the college campus in the contract with a 4.7 million-square-foot commercial office park Hopkins will not even occupy.
Newell, who lives in New Jersey, complained he was “shut down” every time he attended a Montgomery County Council meeting to express his family’s displeasure.
“They claimed it was a private issue, but now they’re publicly supporting Hopkins.” That’s because “Science City” is expected to generate $50 billion in profit for Hopkins, and millions in tax revenue for the county, over the next 50 years.
“For us, it’s not about the money,” Newell says. “We just want them to revert back to the original agreement. If my family wanted to develop the farm, we would have done it ourselves.”
Barbara F. Hollingsworth is The Examiner’s local opinion editor.
