| Sept. 6, 2003
Seattle whipped into frothy lather over espresso tax By REBECCA COOK
Associated Press Writer
SEATTLE (AP) _ "Caffeine Saves," proclaims the neon sign shining in
the window of Coffee Messiah, a hip Seattle cafe where espresso steam
hangs in the air like incense.
This city's devotion to the black, bitter brew that brightens its dark,
rainy winters will run smack into its equally famous liberal conscience
later this month, when citizens vote on taxing espresso.
For
many, the proposed 10-cent tax on espresso drinks is nothing short of
heresy.
"This
is not a luxury," 34-year-old tech support worker Rob Marker said
solemnly, hoisting his iced vanilla mocha on the sidewalk outside Coffee
Messiah.
"It's
a way of life, man!" agreed 21-year-old security guard C. J. Lessig,
between sips of her iced coconut mocha.
On
Sept. 16, Seattle voters will face a ballot question asking them to add
a dime-a-cup tax to their espresso drinks. This "luxury" tax, as
Initiative 77 calls it, would pay for preschool and day care programs.
Seattle has earned a reputation as the tree-hugging, whale-saving, WTO-protesting,
tax-friendly bastion of liberalism in Washington state. But scratch a
lefty espresso addict, and you get Rush Limbaugh.
"Here
I am, forced to pay more for my basic necessity to fund
irresponsibility," said Marker, warming to the topic. "I believe people
have kids without considering it. I take issue with the greater issue of
public funding for child care. Yes, it's needed, but it also feeds
irresponsibility."
Initiative 77 would tax only espresso drinks, such as lattes and
cappuccinos, not drip coffee - even proponents understand that caffeine
is a basic food group here. But people who pay $2 to $5 for fancy
espresso drinks can afford an extra dime for kids, argues initiative
sponsor John Burbank, executive director of the nonprofit Economic
Opportunity Institute.
"The
tax on espresso is progressive. Seattle is the coffee Mecca of the
world," said Burbank, who drinks tall double mochas. What's more, he
said, given the city's love for lattes, "It is completely
recession-proof."
He
expects the espresso tax to raise more than $6.5 million a year. A City
Council staff estimate puts the benefit at between $1.8 million and $3.5
million annually.
A
coalition of business owners led by Seattle-based coffee behemoth
Starbucks is fighting the tax.
"A
single industry should not have to carry the burden," said Wanda
Herndon, Starbucks' senior vice president for worldwide public affairs.
She hastened to add that Starbucks contributes to children's groups and
supports the idea of improving early childhood education. Just not with
an espresso tax.
"Children are our future," said Herndon, whose drink of choice is a
tall, decaf, nonfat latte. "We all need to contribute."
The
Coffee Messiah faithful generally scorn Starbucks as a soulless
corporate demon. But on this issue, they agree.
"It's
nice to put a label on it and say it's for child care, but they should
be taxing the people affected by it," said Opus, Coffee Messiah's owner
and barista. Like Madonna or Cher, he goes by only one name.
Opus,
whose current drink of choice is the classic, plain latte, said he fails
to see the connection between Seattle's jones for espresso and the need
for better child care.
Opponents also point out that espresso, like most things in this city,
is already taxed. Espresso drinks are subject to the 8.8 percent sales
tax (about 25 cents on a $3 latte), and coffee shops and other
businesses pay a .00215 percent "business and occupation" tax on their
gross receipts.
So
far, the campaigns have been low-key, grass roots and fairly evenly
matched. Supporters of the espresso tax have raised about $125,000,
while opponents have raised about $124,000.
If
the tax passes, the money would pay for local preschool programs modeled
after Head Start, grants to help poor families pay for child care, and
raises for child care workers with advanced training. Many of these
programs are hurting for money after state and local budget cuts. The
tax would allow the 600 children to get off the waiting list for city
child care subsidies, Burbank said.
Patrick Durbin, who teaches 3- and 4-year-olds at Able Child preschool,
said he and his colleagues probably chug more espresso than the general
population: "We need the energy."
But
Durbin would happily pay an extra dime for his current drink of choice,
double-shot mocha milkshakes. He's seen the difference it makes when
preschool teachers have training and parents have the money to pay for
quality child care.
"It
represents the beginning of a public investment in early learning which
is long overdue," he said. "It's a really benign, really painless tax.
It's not going to drive anybody out of business. It's not going to hurt
anyone."
Associated Press Writer Rebecca Cook drinks tall, nonfat, caramel
lattes. |
