Real estate is Chris Smith’s area of expertise. He’s president of Charlotte-based Allegiance Realty Corp., which owns about 2.1 million square feet of office space and 1,700 hotel rooms around the U.S.

So what got him to collect about $5 million from investors and sink $1 million of his own money into a local company that produces an educational cartoon? “I brought the videos home to my three boys, and they loved it.”

Danger Rangers, produced by Charlotte-based Educational Adventures, follows animal superheroes that teach playground, fire and other safety lessons. It airs on public TV and also is sold on DVD.

If you can judge an investment by the cachet of those involved, Danger Rangers is a sure bet. Edu-cational Adventures’ president is Steven Rockefeller — yes, those Rockefellers. Among the show’s producers is Howard Kazanjian, who produced Raiders of the Lost Ark and The Empire Strikes Back. Advisers include Glen Charles, co-creator of the TV series Cheers.

But this is a new kind of investment for Smith, who got interested in real estate during his high-school days in Pittsfield, Mass. His father, who was in sales at General Electric, owned some small residential rental properties. Smith earned a bachelor’s in finance from Bentley College in Waltham, Mass., in 1990 and an MBA there in 1992.

In 1994, he and his wife moved to Albuquerque, N.M., where he worked as a tax consultant and real-estate broker. He moved back East in 1996, co-founding American Property Global Partners in Wayne, N.J. Two years later, he moved the company to Charlotte, which he thought would be a better city to raise children. He changed the company’s name to Allegiance in 2004.

Allegiance looks for properties whose poor fortunes weren’t driven by market forces, such as a commercial property that has lost a major tenant, needs maintenance or better marketing. Smith won’t disclose revenue but says the company’s returns on its portfolio are “north of 20%.”

He believes Danger Rangers will have much higher returns because of its licensing potential. There are Danger Rangers coloring books and storybooks, and Smith believes car seats, smoke detectors and other safety products could follow.

Although Educational Adventures is considering video on demand, podcasts and Internet broadcasts, Smith sees value in the PBS brand. “People are attracted to PBS because they know the quality, and it’s educational. You’re going to click to PBS, and you can put your remote down and walk away.”

It would be understandable if Hugh Holliman feels a bit like Barack Obama these days. Like the president, his political career suffered in last fall’s election, though his fate was worse than that of his fellow Democrat. The former majority leader of the N.C. House of Representatives was swept from office by the Republican tide that put the GOP in charge of the statehouse. As is the case with the president, his signature political achievement is under fire. But unlike Obama’s health-care plan, the state’s year-old smoking ban in restaurants and bars probably is safe on the legislative front. The new Republican majority has made no noise about trying to undo the ban, championed by Holliman, a lung-cancer survivor from Lexington. The challenge comes in the courts, from lawsuits brought by bar owners.

A judge has rejected health department citations against the owners of four bars in Greenville, meaning they can pretty much ignore the law for now. The judge said lawmakers’ decision to exempt country clubs, clubs run by fraternal organizations and other types of nonprofit private clubs amounted to unequal protection under the law. Another bar owner in Greensboro has chosen to defy the law while appealing a lower-court ruling that went against him. He’s making a similar claim that the law unfairly targets some businesses while letting others slide.

The court challenges echo the complaints when the law was passed. Critics argued that legislators had waded into an issue of private property rights, that the marketplace and personal choice could sort out whether smoking was permitted or prohibited in bars and restaurants. Their arguments resonated in a state where tobacco had been so critical to the economy. Holliman always maintained that the law wasn’t about those things. “It’s about the rights of all North Carolinians to breathe clean air,” he says. Most residents of the Tar Heel State seem to agree. Last summer, after the law had been in effect several months, polls showed roughly two-thirds of likely voters in the state supported the ban. George Beaman, one of the Greenville bar owners trying to stop the new law, says his business dropped nearly 40% after it took effect. But a lot of other restaurant and bar owners apparently haven’t experienced the same kind of declines. Media reports from across the state quote restaurant and bar owners who say most of their patrons are happy about the change, even if some smokers remain miffed.

It’s worth remembering that Holliman’s bill was defeated twice — in 2005 and 2007 — before passing in 2009. Attitudes may have changed, but North Carolina is still the state where tobacco money built universities and where the tobacco industry was once a major employer. Just five years ago, smokers still lit up in the hallways and atriums in the Legislative Building. The lingering importance of the leaf factored into those earlier defeats, with legislators from eastern counties arguing that the state shouldn’t do anything to damage a legal product that remains a critical cog in the rural economy.

At one point, Rep. Jerry Dockham, a Republican who like Holliman lives in Davidson County, talked of filing a bill to repeal the ban. Even then, he acknowledged that success wasn’t likely. More recently, he and other Republican legislators have said no groundswell exists to revisit the issue. Legislators of both parties see which way the wind, as well as the smoke, is blowing. Even with the power shift, most lawmakers aren’t going to want to buck public sentiment.

The courts, of course, are another matter. In the Greenville case, Superior Court Judge G. Galen Braddy said enforcement was arbitrary, noting that the law set up invalid distinctions. The Pitt County Health Department is appealing the ruling. In Greensboro, bar owner Don Liebes tacked “Country Club” to the name of his Gate City Billiards to try to get around the law. Fighting Guilford County Health Department citations, he initially argued that a country club wasn’t defined by the law. Later, his lawyer argued that the law contained no rational basis to distinguish between private and nonprofit clubs, pointing out that secondhand smoke was the same in either place. Superior Court Judge Jan Samet didn’t buy the arguments, siding with the county and its enforcement officers.

So opponents and proponents, smokers and nonsmokers, end up with contrasting rulings decided largely on the same arguments. Over the next year or so, North Carolina’s appellate courts will sort out whether the lines in the law were drawn in the appropriate places, whether the smoke stops at the doors when it comes to bars and restaurants. A signature political achievement will stand or fall.

Scott Mooneyham is the editor of The Insider, www.ncinsider.com.

Jim Hunt can stand behind his desk on the 21st floor of a downtown Raleigh office tower and gaze into what was once his domain. His office with the law firm of Womble Carlyle Sandridge & Rice overlooks the Capitol and the Legislative Building. For 20 years — 16 as governor and, before that, four as lieutenant governor (under a Republican governor) — Democrat Hunt reigned over those buildings and much of what went on inside them.

The view from his office is no accident. The fact that Hunt has been out of office three years does not mean he has surrendered influence over what happens in North Carolina and across the country, especially in the realm of education. Always driven, there is no quit in him.

But at age 66, with his once famously thick black hair gray and thinning and a slight stoop in his gait, he has become reflective about his public successes and shortcomings. For example, he laments not doing enough to find better, faster solutions to the state’s environmental problems.

“I wish I had worked harder on preserving our environment. I think I worked pretty hard in the last few years in office, but if I could do it over again I would have pushed harder from the very beginning. I wish we had preserved more green space. You can’t have too much parkland, and you can’t do too much to preserve our beaches. I should have done more.”

He also concedes that legislators — with his blessing — cut too many taxes during the flush economy of the ’90s, a move that proved politically popular but turned out to be financially unsound. “We cut the sales tax on food, and that cost the state hundreds of millions” — while saving many families less than a dollar a week.

“We cut a whole bunch [of taxes], taking big whacks out. We thought we were doing the right thing and could cut and not miss it. And then the bubble burst. We need to learn from that. I am sensitive to overtaxing, but we should not fail to make essential investments in programs that help us succeed. Businesses do that, and governments need to do that, too.”

The time has come, he says, to find new sources of revenue. “I am now concerned that so many people are saying they’re not going to increase any kind of taxes or fees and they don’t care what happens to [the state]. That’s wrong. It is time to look at some increases in revenues. The legislature isn’t about to add the sales tax back on food, but if growth is not giving you enough to meet the needs, then you have to look at something else.”

He suggests looking at what he calls “visitor” fees — taxes on hotel/motel bills and other things visitors pay while in the state. “We’re getting a lot less than most states on those kinds of things,” he says. And without specifically calling for new levies on tobacco products and alcoholic beverages, he concedes that they’re an option lawmakers should consider.

“I’ll let someone else decide what is the best source, but we should not [again] make the mistake of becoming so cautious that we don’t make the necessary investment that we must have to meet the needs.” Those needs, he says, include more money for early childhood educational development. The state, he says, ought to double its investment in such programs. Both he and Gov. Mike Easley have been unwavering advocates of these efforts.

Hunt, incidentally, gives his successor high marks for his recent efforts — after a slow start — at promoting economic development. Recruiting industry was always high on Hunt’s agenda, and Easley has been criticized for not doing enough. “He has learned a lot about this and is making progress, but you have to remember he came out of the attorney general’s office where that wasn’t part of his job, and he had all those budget problems to deal with. He and I talk often about this, and if he is re-elected, as I hope, the state will do well in this area. He is getting better and better.”

Hunt insists he is out of politics for good — as a candidate — but will continue to work for those who fit his philosophy. “I consider myself a pro-education and pro-business Democrat and will support those who fit that role regardless of political party. I have no use for extremist candidates, either in my party or the other one.” He’ll back Easley for governor and Erskine Bowles for the U.S. Senate.

It’s time, he says, to put the issue of a state lottery on the ballot. “I have never liked a lottery, but we have allowed people to vote on other topics, and I say let the people vote on this. It’s not a cinch that it would pass. It may be unfortunate public policy to have a lottery, but it is not unfortunate policy to allow the people to vote.”

Hunt also would like to see changes in the 30-year-old structure of the University of North Carolina Board of Governors. “It’s time to look at it, but not to dismantle the system. That would hurt UNC Chapel Hill and N.C. State because the other schools would have more collective power than those two alone. But I do think the governor ought to have some of the appointments to that board.” Under the present structure, the General Assembly appoints the board’s 32 members.

Since leaving the governor’s office, he has used his energy and initiative to create the James B. Hunt Jr. Institute for Educational Leadership and Policy, a national school-leadership project that is part of UNC General Administration and housed near the Friday Center in Chapel Hill. Funded with private money, its goal is to help elected leaders nationwide, starting with governors, learn what they can do to make schools work better. It is the latest chapter in Hunt’s dogged effort to improve public education, starting before kindergarten.

The center, he says, is proving its worth. After he made a presentation on it to the Seattle-based Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, the Microsoft founder and his wife donated $11 million to improve high schools in this state.

“I have seen many good things happen in education, especially in North Carolina, and I’ve seen some leaders who were pretty ineffective in making changes and making schools work. [The institute] works at what I call the intersection of politics and policy. We are focusing on elected leaders who can make public policy and get funding for it. I’m as happy as I’ve ever been and feel as fulfilled as I have ever felt. This work needs to be done.”

He practices what he preaches about early education. When his 16-month-old granddaughter visits his home on a farm in Wilson County, he spends time at the breakfast table reading to her, as he has his other grandchildren, before going to work. “That can make a difference,” he says. “You can see it in a child’s eyes.” That’s when Hunt’s eyes also brighten up. When he speaks as a grandfather, his reality quotient, always high, gets even higher.

In mid-December, as Christmas 2010 loomed and the values of the season were on full display, The Charlotte Observer intruded upon the happy jingle of the cash register to pose a bona fide spiritual conversation starter. Is it time, the Observer asked, for the banking industry to stop focusing exclusively on what’s legal and start thinking about what’s moral and ethical? That’s a fine question, actually, and a treacherous one, too. Any conversation starting with that query can spin off into all kinds of uncomfortable directions with the smallest of nudges. Naturally, I’m the man to give it one.

In one sense, the Observer’s question — framed this way: How do Charlotte’s many church-going, God-fearing banking executives square their faith with their industry’s recent business practices? — was rhetorical. The answer is, they can’t. Jesus had very well-articulated views about wealth, lending and money-changers. None were favorable. Instead, what the Observer seemed to want to know is whether North Carolina’s bankers now have second thoughts about such things as the aggressive promotion of mortgage loans that required little income verification and the subsequent bundling of those loans into securities whose radioactivity eventually caused a financial market meltdown. Again, the answer is obvious: Sure, who wouldn’t now have second thoughts?

But before we wander off in other directions, there are two points to be made. First, remember that law and regulation have a way of crowding out ethical considerations. Rules tend to replace values. Take the federal tax code for example: Citizens have an ethical responsibility to pay their taxes, but the size and detail of the tax code practically demands that you game the system to your advantage. The banking and securities industry is subject to much regulation, but those rules are largely designed to foster transparency and equal access to information. Within the rules, competition, even ruthlessness, is encouraged. Second, remember that ethics in banking tend to be situational rather than fundamental. If there had been no real-estate crash, or had it been much less dramatic, would those subprime loans and mortgage-backed securities still have been ethically questionable? If both borrower and lender come out of a liar’s loan transaction OK, is there still an ethical lapse?

Yeah, I know: This is all theoretical and argumentative. It’s like debating whether the running of a red light in the middle of the night with no traffic around still constitutes a crime. Instead, now that the subject of ethics is on the table for discussion, let’s consider some real-life lapses.

For instance, consider the findings of a recent study by NC Policy Watch that examined sales of lottery tickets in North Carolina and identified the counties with the highest per-capita sales (for another look at the lottery, see page 22). It turns out that there’s an almost perfect correlation between poverty and lottery purchases. Of the 24 most impoverished counties in the state, only two bought lottery tickets at a rate below the state’s per capita average. The other 22 were above — and in most cases, well above. In short, the most reliable customers for the state’s legal gambling racket are the poorest among us. The people who can least afford it are the ones most prone to believe the state’s pie-in-the-sky claim that riches are within their grasp. Want to have a discussion about the ethics of that? Too bad. Lottery officials studiously avoid collecting any demographic information that might tell them exactly who is buying tickets. And if you want to add a little extra oomph to your outrage, NC Policy Watch also notes that the percentage of lottery money that goes to education (which is, after all, its reason for being) has been reduced so that more can be spent on marketing and prizes.

Then there’s the case of Raleigh lawyer Johnny Gaskins, who made his living defending killers, drug dealers and other assorted lowlifes. Many of his clients paid his fees in cash, and Gaskins kept much of it in a safe in his home. But at some point, nervous about having so much money around the house, he deposited it in the bank — in smallish chunks, in different banks. Gaskins had declared the money as income and paid taxes on it. Still, a little over a year ago, federal prosecutors succeeded in convicting him on a charge of structuring his bank deposits to avoid the attention of the Internal Revenue Service (to whom he had already reported the money). That’s known as a “derivative crime,” a charge to be piled on top of a grander prosecution. But there was no other charge. That’s all prosecutors had: Gaskins was peculiar in how he handled the money he had earned legally and paid taxes on. Did I mention he represented the kind of clients cops and prosecutors particularly loathe? Anybody want to address the ethics of that exercise in justice?

More? All right, think about this for a moment. In late December, the General Accountability Office declared that the federal 2010 “consolidated financial statement” — which is to say, our federal budget — was such a mess that it cannot be verified. Our government literally cannot explain where our money goes. Worse yet, a GAO spokesman told the Philadelphia Inquirer this is not an unusual turn of events: It’s happened at least 10 years in a row. Keep that in mind the next time some huge government program is sold to us as an ethically necessary betterment of society.

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Victor Taylor’s earliest memories are of his great-grandmother making soap on the family farm near Candler after the Thanksgiving hog killing. As an adult, nostalgia washed over him. He wanted his son and daughter to experience their family heritage.

Recreating the past meant buying pig fat from a butcher — Taylor thought the kids would get the idea without him having to slaughter a hog — melting the fat over a fire in a cast-iron kettle and mixing it with lye. The family poured the mixture into pans, let it dry, then cracked it with spoons to form bars of soap. That was 10 years ago. Today Taylor’s company, Asheville-based Appalachian Natural Soaps Inc., makes 3,700 bars of soap a week in 18 aromas. They are stocked in nearly 400 shops around the country.

Taylor, 42, got an associate’s degree in culinary arts from Asheville-Buncombe Technical Community College in 1981 and went to work for the Biltmore Estate as a cook. By 1993, he was Biltmore’s director of meeting-and-convention sales. He wasn’t looking for a new job when he revived his family’s soap-making tradition.

But when he tried the recipe, friends raved about the soaps. On a whim, Taylor and his wife Pam put labels on the 4.5-ounce bars and took some over to T.S. Morrison & Co., Asheville’s oldest store, which ordered 30 and sold them within two weeks. That encouraged Taylor to peddle the soaps at craft fairs on weekends. The bars attracted wholesale customers. Taylor snagged retail customers when he started making sales calls at specialty gift shops around the state. Soon he had drummed up enough business to quit his job at the Biltmore.

Taylor won’t reveal revenue but says the company is profitable and has had annual growth of 30% to 70% the past five years. Bars sell for about $5. Appalachian Natural has seven employees — all family members — who still make the soap by hand.

Through the Internet, Taylor imports ingredients such as cocoa butter from South Africa. Early on, Pam Taylor sought advice from her high-school chemistry teacher about how to combine various oils to develop different aromas. The 18 scents include lavender, almond-honey-oatmeal and rosemary-lemon-poppy seed. The company also makes lip balm, body powder and a salt scrub. It is developing a natural deodorant.

“We stay away from artificial fragrances,” Taylor says. “It’s our pledge not to put anything on your body that you wouldn’t put in it.” Taylor claims no one has had an allergic reaction to any of the products. And animal lovers need not worry: “We wouldn’t know how to do animal testing if we wanted to,” Taylor says. “Unless you count our cocker spaniel, who used to like to eat the oatmeal-soap mixture.