It’s not a scarlet letter. But it is a bunch of letters on a red tag stuck to someone’s house — if the occupants have gotten into trouble with the law for such things as parties, noise or litter.

City leaders are floating the idea of slapping so-called “red tags” on disorderly houses to serve notice to inhabitants, neighbors and landlords that they’re in trouble with the law.

And they’d better not get into trouble again any time soon.

The idea was suggested by Ed Caudill, a 21-year North Bottoms resident and neighborhood activist who hopes to reduce the parties, litter and noise in his neighborhood, where the many small, old rental houses are popular with University of Nebraska-Lincoln students.

Caudill got the idea from Tucson, Ariz., where police have the authority to stick red tags on what are considered disorderly houses — or properties where five or more people are gathered or where there’s excessive noise, traffic, obstruction of streets, littering, public drinking, fighting, disturbing the peace or minors drinking alcohol.

The warnings must stay posted for 180 days. If a tag is taken down, the tenants are fined. If there are any subsequent violations within the next 180 days, police can cite and fine everyone from property owners to tenants and party guests.

Lincoln City Councilwoman Patte Newman, who has been working to help local neighborhood associations deal with problem properties and party houses, is helping to examine the idea of red-tagging.

“That’s an obvious reminder,” she said of the bright red warning. “It’s basically giving the police another tool in their armory to have.”

Carol Brown said the Neighborhood Alliance, a group of neighborhood associations, plans to push for a red-tag ordinance.

But Newman said it’s not clear whether an ordinance patterned after Tucson’s would mesh with Nebraska state law. Another idea that has been toyed with is requiring landlords to get licensed. That way their licenses can be yanked if they aren’t responsible.

Lincoln police Capt. Joy Citta explained the red-tagging concept to the mayor’s neighborhood roundtable on Thursday afternoon; she previously had given a presentation to UNL’s student government.

Citta said Lincoln already does many of the same things as Tucson, except for the red sign.

She said it takes “a gallon of gasoline and a razor blade” to get the red signs off once the police stick them on a house.

A half-dozen college students attended the meeting to question red-tagging. Sarah Morris asked why party-goers should be identified with a bright red sign, but thieves or murderers are not.

Larry Zink, who lives in University Place, asked the college students why they were “defending the jerks” — people who “obviously don’t give a damn about their neighbors.”

Others worried about the effect red tags would have on real estate — fearing they would be big red lights to good tenants or potential home buyers. The signs would label the house, block and neighborhood, they said.

“I would have no problem if the students were wearing the red tags,” one woman said.

Residents of neighborhoods that have party problems were more supportive of the concept, expressing years of frustration with the continual turnover of college and other young adults who they said aren’t good neighbors.

People such as Vera Mae Lutz, who volunteered on a committee weekly for a year to try to eradicate these problems, don’t think it helped much.

“How much longer can we talk?” she asked the students.

 One resident said the police party patrol initially was effective but seems to have slackened recently.

Whether the city goes forward with red-tagging won’t make a whole lot of difference to Caudill, the man who initiated the discussion. He’s grown so frustrated with the college neighborhood that he plans to move in the fall.

He said he’s already sold half the 10 condos he owns in the heart of North Bottoms.

He said two encounters with police — who rebuked him for calling the police so frequently — were the last straw.

Reach Deena Winter at 473-2642 or dwinter@journalstar.com.