TUSAYAN, Ariz. -- For most of its existence, Tusayan, Arizona (pop. 580) has been little more than a pokey strip of motels and fast food restaurants strung along State Highway 64, the last place to gas up before entering the relative wilderness of the Grand Canyon, two miles away.

But a handful of wealthy business owners and their Italian development partner say the town could be more -- much more.

Tiny Tusayan and Gruppo Stilo USA would like to use its position next to the world's seventh natural wonder to become "a world-class destination resort," featuring 3 million square feet of residential and commercial space, restaurants, a health spa, a Western dude ranch and an entertainment pavilion featuring Native American performers. The massive development coincides with a $37 million state plan -- set to begin the permitting phase this fall -- to expand the tiny regional airport over the next five years, including a terminal that can handle commercial jets, potentially flooding the national park with an additional 57,000 visitors each year.

Dave Uberuaga, Grand Canyon's superintendent, calls the tangled interests involved in the two developments "a web of disgust and deceit." Such "unfettered growth on the canyon's doorstep" threatens to overwhelm park resources, crowd roads, create noise, scare wildlife, and most of all, drain precious watersheds, he said.

But Stilo spokesperson Tom DePaolo contends that high-end facilities nearby would help the Grand Canyon "deliver a meaningful visitor experience." Hampered by federal budget cuts and millions of dollars in deferred maintenance, national parks don't provide enough to do, said DePaolo. "The average tourist has his Kodak moment at the Rim, buys a plastic tomahawk made in China and then leaves."

For two decades, the development controversy has absorbed the interest of environmentalists, the Park Service, Indian tribes and a powerful consortium of business owners and their lawyers and lobbyists.

In this bone-dry region, the looming issue is water.

Under a cloudless sky promising heat one June day, Martha Hahn, chief of science and resource management for the Grand Canyon, points to glistening patches of moss-like greenery that cling to the canyon's rock face. Known as seeps, they may not look like fonts of life, but "one plant provides for a critter that provides for another critter, so it gets exponential very quickly in terms of its effect," she said.

This past June, developers failed to meet a state deadline for notifying Arizona utility regulators where their water will come from, thereby defaulting on its contract with the town.

Tusayan's major, Greg Bryan, said that while the town council "expressed its disappointment," it has not lost confidence in Stilo. "They indicate they have surface water rights," he added.

DePaolo said that Stilo will import its water at 2,000 acre-feet per year from the Colorado River, which they will pump via an old coalmine slurry pipeline from Laughlin, Nevada across hundreds of miles of federal land (that it does not own) to its development in Tusayan.

"That sounds nebulous at best," said Robin Silver from the Center for Biological Diversity, one of several environmental groups that opposes the project. He added recent projections show that the Colorado River -- the main source of surface water in the region -- is already over-allocated and, with climate change and prolonged drought conditions, drying up.

But DePaolo says he envisions a "public-private partnership" whereby Stilo -- with plenty of capital and cash-flow -- will get a buy-in from its cash-strapped neighbors by underwriting some of their development projects. On the nearby Navajo Indian reservation, 40 percent of homes lack running water. And this summer the Grand Canyon's cross-canyon water pipeline burst, forcing officials there to ferry water to the lodge at the bottom of the canyon -- where temperatures reached as high as 117 degrees -- by mule in order to "mitigate any immediate visitor safety risk."

Erny Zah, a Navajo Nation spokesperson, said no one has approached the tribe with such an offer. "We'd have to look at the particulars, but I think it would raise a lot of eyebrows," he said. "I don't know where that would put us in terms of our other water right claims."

Grand Canyon officials said Stilo has not responded to requests for a briefing on its water plans. The NPS thinks they are playing games and plan to siphon water from the wells utilized by the airport development.

When asked to produce proof of Stilo's water rights, Mr. DePaolo cited "confidentiality agreements which preclude disclosure" in an email.

While the project stalls, there is a lot of money at stake. The airport expansion could be a boon to Tusayan's air tour companies that fly tourists over the canyon, a multi-million dollar business. Tusayan resident Elling Halvorson and development partner owns several such companies, which employ the mayor and four out of five members of the city council, which also serves as the zoning board that two years ago approved Tusayan's development.

That was nearly two years ago, and the project has yet to break ground. Critics are hoping that it never does.

On an early June day, Mr. Uberuaga stood at Maricopa Point on the South Rim and gestured to the rock terraces just beyond a row of craggy junipers. "When you look at the body of laws, this is the most protected piece of real estate in the world, yet I spend 95 percent of my time just trying to protect this place," he said. "Everyone wants a piece of it."

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