In Clarksburg, the Year of Living Doggedly

When the women started digging last year at the Silver Spring offices of the Park and Planning Department, they became infuriated with the slow grind of the bureaucratic gears. They couldn't find documents they needed; the person who knew the answers to their questions wasn't available; they needed to go to another office.

"DO YOU SEE THE STEAM coming from my head?!!" Presley e-mailed to Shiley.

Presley starts most days reading the Bible. Slender, with a stylishly short haircut, she drinks regular Coke and smokes Marlboro reds. She left Montgomery College in Rockville after getting married at 19. She moved to Texas, took a job as a receptionist and worked her way into marketing, often worried about her lack of a degree. Several years ago, she took an IQ test that put her minimum score at 147, confirming the beliefs of colleagues who said she had a near-photographic memory and helping fuel her confidence as she opened a marketing consultancy.

As her zeal for Clarksburg grew, she began scaling back clients and ramping up hours spent investigating. "How does it affect our relationship?" Presley's husband, Greg, asked, referring to Clarksburg. "I have a very tired wife."

Shiley grew up in Virginia Beach, a constant sunbather, her mother remembers. At 33, after 12 years in banking and mortgage lending, she wanted something that felt more rewarding. She entered the Navy and became a nurse, working in labor and operating rooms and reached the rank of lieutenant.

Several years ago, she and a boyfriend of 4 1/2 years broke up, ending what she had thought would be a chance to become a stepmother. Shiley felt as though she'd lost a family. She transferred to the Public Health Service and moved to Washington. She liked downtown Bethesda, with its shops and cafes, but it was too costly. She eventually chose Clarksburg and purchased a townhouse for $352,000.

On her way out of Virginia Beach, she underwent a medical screening. What doctors found stunned her: a Stage-4 melanoma. They eventually recommended an aggressive treatment with Interleukin-2, a protein that stimulates infection-fighting cells.

It spawned horrible vomiting, skin peeling and violent convulsions. After each treatment, she visited her new home, under construction in Clarksburg. Shiley envisioned bike trails and parks to walk her two dogs. "It was about living," she said of the planned town. "It wasn't about moving into a home, and being alone, like suburban neighborhoods."

Smoking Site Plan

By April, Shiley and Presley had logged thousands of hours of research. As they expanded their scope, other residents -- particularly those busy with kids -- peeled off, leaving a core of about a half-dozen activists. The group lately tends to gather at Shiley's townhouse, which is stacked with documents. Two members -- Presley and Lynn Fantle -- come and go with their own keys.

As the women dug into their development, they suspected a group of condominiums was higher than a 45-foot limit. At one point, they asked a construction foreman in a hard hat to estimate the height, saying they were trying to settle a bet. Sixty feet, he estimated.

Such revelations added fuel to their suspicions. They kept cajoling county officials, persuading them to hold a public hearing.

Presley delivered a PowerPoint presentation to the planning board April 14. Quoting from county documents going back to 1994, she said the law didn't allow planners to ease height restrictions without a public hearing.