Deep sigh.

That's how I feel when I think about what I know was inevitable: the effort to preserve the remains of Monte Ne is essentially kaput.

I am not surprised, just disappointed.

To recap: Problems with people defacing the tower at Monte Ne -- the only part of the once-grand resort routinely above water -- led the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, which owns the property, to "secure" the area with penal colony-style fencing. It may keep some people out, but it is not impenetrable.

Of course, it wasn't just graffiti. People pulled other stupid human tricks too gross to detail here. I don't know about you, but I was taught to have more respect for other's property than to use it for a toilet.

And, then there are the real winners who had to be rescued after climbing the tower but couldn't get down.

It is a darned shame people are so lacking in common sense that this unique area has to be fenced, and could face demolition.

Just a quick reminder of that history: Monte Ne was developed as a resort in the early 1900s by William "Coin" Harvey. There were hotels, canals, gondoliers and an amphitheater.

When Beaver Lake was impounded in the 1960s, everything that remained -- except the tower --was flooded.

Harvey was an unsuccessful presidential candidate. Read more about him on the Rogers Historical Museum website, or in the book "Historic Monte Ne" by Allyn Lord of Shiloh Museum. Lord's book is generally considered the definitive book about Monte Ne.

Corps representatives say they don't have the money to preserve the area, or demolish the tower. If you want it saved, they said, it is up to the people of the region.

Several history buffs made an effort to raise money, but there are lots of demands on the charitable dollar in Northwest Arkansas. The Rogers museum staff is working hard to raise money for a much-needed expansion. Monte Ne had to go by the wayside.

If you want to visit Monte Ne and really see something, keep an eye on the Beaver Lake level. If it gets real low you can walk to the amphitheater, sit there, and think about what it must have been like in the days of Coin Harvey.

***

A lot of the people in my neighborhood are up in arms about a decision by city officials to remove most of the stop signs along Persimmon Street between Second and Eighth streets. One remains at Fifth Street, I assume under the theory drivers could not get a full head of steam going between Second and Eighth streets if one sign was left.

John Gore reported a couple of weeks someone approached the mayor about removing the signs to "improve" traffic flow. From what I hear from the neighbors, they don't see an improvement.

I know there has been at least one accident, and apparently several near misses based on the squealing of tires.

I had purposely not ventured along one of the cross streets simply because I saw no reason to take the risk of getting hit. Go the long way around, I theorized.

Finally, on Saturday, I did head north, and sneaked across the intersection at Third Street, craning my neck to see around the grown-up weeds west of the intersection. I got a crick in my neck, but I didn't get hit.

The width of Persimmon varies wildly from near the post office where cars can pass one another without fear of sideswiping, to the blocks between Fourth and Second where two vehicles should pass cautiously, and where there is no sidewalk.

Plans call for Persimmon Street to be widened, eventually, to serve as a major east/west route similar to Olive Street. I'm not sure when that it is scheduled to happen, but it doesn't appear to be this year.

This is the perfect example of a problem at all levels of government: The powers that be have a tin ear when it comes to the concerns of the people. Had anyone at the city just asked -- via the newspaper, Facebook, television -- if area residents had any comment about removing the stop signs, maybe the residents wouldn't be so mad.

It's that kind of mad that comes back to haunt elected officials when they need support of residents, aka taxpayers.