Town government ... when there's not much town to govern

Or consider Loving County in the Texas oil patch, which has fewer people per square mile than any county in the contiguous US (or any part of Greenland, for that matter). Yet its 67 people still find ways to maintain all the traditional functions: a local court, a sheriff and deputy, an auditor, a treasurer, and so on.

"You just think smaller," explains County Judge Donald Creager, who can't remember the last time a felony was committed in Loving. The biggest challenge is getting reelected, he adds. "It doesn't take too many people upset at you to lose a majority."

One of the enduring mysteries of the Plains frontier is that it has so far avoided widespread poverty. Although its median household income - $30,079 - rank nearly as low as West Virginia, the poorest state in 1999, its share of poor households looked significantly smaller (15.8 percent versus West Virginia's 17.9 percent). One explanation: The frontier may spread incomes more evenly than Appalachia does, and its household income actually grew faster than the national average during the 1990s.

But demographers warn that many frontier households remain uncomfortably close to poverty. "It's one of those untold stories," says Richard Rathge, director of the North Dakota State Data Center on the campus of North Dakota State University in Fargo. "If you drop below the poverty line, you're on the radar screen. But if you're marginally above the poverty line, you're not."

That describes Adams County, N.D., to a T. Its median household earned $650 less a year than the comparable West Virginia household in 1999, yet its poverty rate remained a dramatic 5.7 percentage points below West Virginia's.

To cope with its stagnant tax base, the county has consolidated services. Hettinger, the county seat, folded its police force into the county sheriff's office in 1984, merged its street and public-works departments with the county's a year later, and now works closely with the county on various projects.

The arrangement means Hettinger devotes two-thirds of its $260,000 budget to pay for county services. In return, it saves easily $100,000 a year, estimates Mrs. Svihovec, who's credited with pushing the consolidation plan.

Police protection, for example, costs almost the same today as it did when Hettinger ran its own police force - despite 20 years of inflation. And county help has allowed the city to get federal money to repave the highway down the center of the well-kept and still-vibrant town.

Not everyone's happy. "I'm getting tired of working 250 hours a month," says County Sheriff Gene Molbert. "It has not gotten people coming back."

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Some observers argue that the whole county structure - a British import from colonial days - doesn't make sense for the frontier, anyway. James Satterlee, a retired sociologist from South Dakota State University, has suggested counties join forces to create what he calls a "New Community." One government center and a handful of well-located schools could serve a half-dozen counties or "neighborhoods," as they would be called.

For now, what's the key to begin reversing the decline?

"Cooperation," says Svihovec. Although people don't want to hear the problems associated with depopulation, "you have got to get beyond that. You have got to break down those walls and start communicating."

This would be a good time for Adams County to ratchet up that cooperation. Svihovec plans to retire next month.

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