peppertitle

THAT’S MARSHAL PEPPER TO YOU, LIZARDHEAD

Let the record show: In 1968, Santa Rosa achieved Peak Pepper. That was the year when the local Grand Poobahs gave a badge to our town character and proclaimed she was henceforth the town marshal. What could possibly go wrong?

This is part two of the story of Pepper Dardon. Her backstory was hashed in “I, PEPPER” which I urge you to read before continuing. Starting sometime in the mid-1950s she became a noisy and (mostly) cheerful fixture around the downtown district. How well someone got along with her depended on who they were and which Pepper they met. “She could be obnoxious or sweet, depending on the street persona she adopted that day,” her 1992 Press Democrat obituary noted.

She was invariably kind to children who seemed to view her as silly, a grownup who didn’t act like the usual sort of adult and wasn’t much taller than they were. Older kids might think she was scary or mean because she teased them. Teenagers with smart mouths sometimes recognized her as one of their own ilk.

If you were a store clerk or bank teller having a busy day you did not want to see Pepper coming through your door. “Santa Rosa merchants, who endured her tirades as she made her daily rounds, considered her either a charming looney or a public nuisance,” the PD obit also recalled. She was sure to do something disruptive; “Topping it all off, she yodeled, sang and played the harmonica. But not very well.” Should there be a candy jar on the counter she would shoplift fistfuls to hand out later – see above, Children: Kindness to.

The men and women who were active in social clubs and charities appreciated her as an indefatigable volunteer. Pepper’s self-appointed downtown duties included collecting money for good causes, which often were a sizable portion of all money raised during a fundraising drive. She sold lapel pins for the Lions Club’s White Cane Day, ersatz red poppies for the VFW, candy for the Santa Rosa Jewish Women’s Club (she wasn’t Jewish), tickets to the Kiwanis pancake breakfast, rattled donation cans for the American Cancer Society and probably begged donations for still other groups forgotten.

When the campaign was over and the club held its inevitable self-congratulatory luncheon Pepper was often invited because of her outsized contribution. For a long time those orgs treated her as something like their own poster child, as did the Chamber of Commerce and particularly the Police Department.

“There’s no question she got away with a lot. She was a kind of mascot to our smaller-town Police Department. The officers treated her like a pet.” Gaye LeBaron wrote in a must-read 2005 column. Even before the town marshal gag, Pepper was chummy with the officers personally and they did favors for each other; cops would give her a lift in patrol cars and she would run errands for them, such as fetching a raincoat from the police station, according to a different column by Gaye. Nor did it hurt that she prowled downtown with a sharp eye for lawbreakers, like the top elephant enforcing good behavior on her unruly herd. Woe to anyone she caught jaywalking or dropping a gum wrapper – people were astonished such a tiny woman could holler so loud.

But Pepper had no greater champion than the Press Democrat, particularly columnist Gaye LeBaron. Pepper’s birthday was usually heralded in the column, as were the impressive sums she collected for the fundraiser de jour. There were items when she broke her thumb and when she adopted a kitten. After husband Paul lost his job of twelve years as Occidental Hotel janitor, readers learned the Lions Club passed the hat and raised $36 to help them out. Updates followed as he was hired twice again as a janitor and lost those jobs as well. At one point an anonymous caller sniped to LeBaron’s editor she should “stop talking so much about Pepper.”

It was early in 1968 when a Pepper fan wrote to LeBaron suggesting they lobby to have Pepper chosen as Grand Marshal for that year’s Rose Parade: “Riding in an open car down Fourth street would perhaps repay her in some small way for all the time she’s donated.” Gaye liked the proposal and hoped Pepper would get the nod – but a quirk of fate caused her to end up as a different kind of marshal instead.

Undated photo courtesy Michael Sawyer/FindAGrave.com
Undated photo courtesy Michael Sawyer/FindAGrave.com

The Santa Rosa Chamber of Commerce decided the town needed lots of parties to commemorate its centennial year of 1968. There would be fine speeches from VIPs on Centennial Day in March, followed in May by a whole Centennial Week highlighted by the Rose Parade. Yessir, we would spare no effort to celebrate the town’s 100th birthday in style. (Ignore for the moment that Santa Rosa was actually founded in 1854 and 1868 was only the year of incorporation, which was a legal formality that went almost unnoticed.)

Those festivities were lightly covered in an earlier article but considering the focus was a specific event around the time of the Civil War, it’s surprising the doings in 1968 were such an ahistorical mess. People dressed up in turn-of-the century garb, rode old bicycles or drove antique cars and a barbershop quartet sang, all stuff from a half century later. Or maybe Santa Rosa was more like a cowtown in the Wild West – there was a two-day “western extravaganza” at the racetrack with stunt riding and a race between a horse and a motorcycle. There was also a Centennial Year Marshal because…they always looked cool in TV westerns, I guess.

The selection of the marshal was intended to be a rollicking funfest because everyone knew and liked the candidates – everyone who was part of Santa Rosa’s clubby businessmen’s world, that is. The Downtown Development Association nominated Datsun auto dealer Bob Torvick. In response, a Chamber of Commerce leader said the honor should instead go to Dave “Bugsy” Hill. It was agreed the matter would be settled by an election with votes mailed to the Press Democrat.

For nearly two weeks they bantered in the newspaper. Torvick assured voters he had a full head of hair and was “kind to children very often.” “I am real relaxed,” promised Hill. “I can go to bed sooner, sleep later, and get up feeling fresher.” Oh, you crazy kids.

The votes were counted on April Fool’s Day and it was a tie, each of them pulling a whopping ten votes (there were two write-ins for Pepper). A committee was formed to decide what to do. The agreed solution was for the two to face off in a showdown at high noon at Courthouse Square – using real guns firing soft wax bullets. Only Torvick and Hill voted against the notion. Mayor Hugh Codding was named as the referee.

The shootout was scheduled for the sixth of April and everyone in town was invited – until fate intervened. On April 4, Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated. There were waves of rioting nationwide on the following days and the Golden Gate bridge was closed following a bomb threat. The faux showdown was cancelled because playing at shooting someone was no longer funny. There was a memorial ceremony at Courthouse Square that day instead.

“Since the cancellation of the town marshal contest and even before there has been a veritable groundswell of support for Pepper to assume the title,” wrote LeBaron a few days later. “I was all for Pepper being given a place of honor in the Rose Parade. Now, perhaps, I’ll modify my stand to include a town marshal’s badge.”

And so it came to pass; Pepper put on her badge, which thereafter became as much a part of her as body and soul.1

Pepper at a Rose Parade in the 1970s. Photo courtesy Michael Sawyer/FindAGrave.com
Pepper at a Rose Parade in the 1970s. Photo courtesy Michael Sawyer/FindAGrave.com

Had she not been cast to play the role of Santa Rosa’s official fake town marshal, 1968 was still a banner year for Pepper.

She was at (or near) her peak for doing street fundraising; “she has collected literally thousands of dollars for charity and while her methods may be unorthodox there’s no denying their effectiveness,” remarked Gaye LeBaron. She was fêted at luncheons both by the Lions Club and the Rotary Club at the Flamingo Hotel, where she had never been inside. And maybe most importantly. Paul finally had a stable job, then in his fourth year as janitor at Community Hospital.

But the year ended with Paul changing from being an employee to a cancer patient at the hospital on Chanate Road. Despite not having a car, Pepper visited him every day for three months, most of her rides courtesy city police “who happened to be going out that way.”

Paul died there in early 1969. The Press Democrat gave him a front page obituary although most of it was about Pepper. Eggen & Lance donated his funeral service and burial with Police Chief Dutch Flohr and other officers acting as pallbearers. It was all quite a tribute, given that few apparently knew him except as the man married to Pepper.

His salary was meager, but losing it created a financial crisis for Pepper. Those who were closest to her – LeBaron, Helen and Dr. Bill Rudee, along with Ford car dealer Bob Bishop – created a “Pepper Pot” fund that carried her over for several months until Bishop, a former mayor who “had some political clout,” as Gaye later wrote, was able to get her a state pension for being certifiably “unemployable handicapped.”

Pepper was then 55 but gave no signs of slowing down in the years following, often topping her previous charity collection records. In 1973 she pulled in a quarter of all money raised by the Lions during their White Cane benefit. Police and firefighters remained devoted to her; when she was in the hospital for gallbladder surgery they made a plaque declaring her Santa Rosa’s “Official Firebelle,” just as the San Francisco firemen once honored Lillie Coit.

She fully embraced the Marshal Pepper routine, never seen without her badge. At some point in the 1970s her usual ensemble included a vest with text on the back reading:

PEPPER
TOWN
MARSHAL
SANTA ROSA
CALIF

“She really believed she was the Marshal,” her PD obituary said.2 Gaye LeBaron wrote much the same in a 1975 column: “I think the problem is that Pepper, like so many other controversial people, is beginning to believe her press clippings. Call someone the town character long enough and they begin to try to live up to it.”

peppervest(RIGHT: Detail of photo from the Macy’s Coddingtown grand opening, courtesy Michael Sawyer/FindAGrave.com)

Then in 1975 the unthinkable happened: Pepper was no longer allowed to collect money for any of the charities or social clubs.

Apparently the first to break ties was the Lions Club, the group she was always closest to. LeBaron spent an entire Sunday column explaining the issue.3 The Lions said she was dropped because of “too many negative responses” to her methods, browbeating people to donate. “Don’t try to run away lady, I see you trying to keep from giving me money” or “Whatsamatter, lizard? Too cheap to help the blind people?”

Yeah, she could be pushy, but the Lions and everyone else knew that before letting her shake their collection cans. A more serious issue was that she was skimming. “She would get five times more [money] than anyone else, in spite of the fact she pocketed probably half,” said Lon Kaufmann, a Pepper supporter who had known her since she arrived in Santa Rosa.4

Nor was she doing all her marshalling for free. She didn’t just scream at jaywalkers but began demanding they pay a 50¢ fine, which she kept. She waited for drivers with expired parking meters in order to fine them too (the PD didn’t say whether or not she fed the meter in the interim). She yanked packages from the arms of shoppers “to carry them for you.” By any definition it was a shakedown, made all the more disturbing because the police sanctioned it by looking away.

Pepper surely missed the applause and praise from the Lions and other groups for being their top donation collector, but she also spoke about it being a tough job. “I was born and raised to be nice and courteous to everyone. But to some people in Santa Rosa you can’t be,” she was quoted in her obituary. In her postmortem column, LeBaron recalled she was cussed at. People would order her to get away from them. “Lots of people aren’t pleasant when you ask them for money on the street,” Pepper once told her.

It wouldn’t be surprising to learn those rude encounters contributed to her infamous habit of name-calling; “lizard” was her favorite putdown, which could be teasing, affectionate or a sharp slap across the face. Pepper’s lexicon also included “jungle boy” (Gaye makes it clear this was a swipe at businessmen and not a racial slur), “Butterball” for someone overweight, “snakehead” and plenty more. Another part of her regular shtick was to tag locals with nicknames, usually insulting in some way – which might go far in explaining why some strongly disliked her. It’s too late to put her on a psychiatrist’s couch and probe exactly why she thought this acceptable, but Gentle Reader might recall comedian Don Rickles was constantly on TV during those years because many thought his insult humor was funny (certainly not me).

There’s no record of how she felt being blackballed by the social clubs, but her routine didn’t seem to change much. She continued patrolling downtown, Montgomery Village and Coddingtown yelling at litterers, jaywalkers, skateboarders, kids who rode their bikes on the sidewalk (when they switched to the street she’d yell at them for riding in the street) and people in cars who weren’t wearing seatbelts. She yodeled and whistled and told really dumb jokes. She was a regular guest on Jim Grady’s popular KSRO morning show where she would sing and play the harmonica.

The Jaycees never allowed her to ride in a Rose Parade car much less naming her Grand Marshal, snubs that irked Gaye LeBaron no end. But every year Pepper would arrive at the grandstand long before anyone else in order to claim a prime spot (she said she went early in order to keep “lizards” away). Once the event began there was a sweet tradition where emcee John Bugbee would introduce her and the crowd would roar, “HELLO, PEPPER!” and clap for her.

Pepper received an honor (of sorts) in 1982 when cartoonist Dale Messick used her as the inspiration for a character in the soapy “Brenda Starr” comic strip. Messick, who lived in Oakmont, created “Granny Pineapple,” a squat elderly woman who went barefoot, wore a grass skirt and Hawaiian leis along with half a pineapple for a hat. The storyline that appeared in June involved G.P. being so pissed off at the Gas & Electric company she paid her bill in pennies. Brenda and other journalists at the Flash daily paper gave the stunt lots of publicity and soon half the town was doing the same. Ironically, the Press Democrat didn’t carry the strip so we don’t know if Pepper ever saw her sort-of doppelganger, but KPIX sent a crew here to interview Messick and Pepper for its “Evening Magazine” show that aired June 30.

Panels from "Brenda Starr" comic strip, June 1982
Panels from “Brenda Starr” comic strip, June 1982

Mentions of Pepper slacked off in the PD after she turned seventy in 1984. “Pepper won’t like me saying this, but the town marshal is not getting any younger,” lamented Gaye. “She’s losing some of that old enthusiasm, a note or two of the old yodel.” She began having trouble with her legs and had to skip the Rose Parade for the first time in decades. Then in 1990 she suffered a bad fall and was bedridden. She was sent to a Petaluma nursing home where she died of pneumonia, August 8, 1992.

Eggen & Lance again donated a casket and the funeral service, which about fifty people attended. The PD gave her an obituary plus columns by LeBaron and Chris Smith sprinkled with Pepper stories. She is buried next to husband Paul in Santa Rosa Memorial Park.

Pepper had no family and it appears the only property she left was her marshal vest, her harmonica (which had to be pretty rusty by then) and a few pictures of her with cops and firemen. But given it was presumed she was intellectually challenged or maybe bedbug crazy, she also left behind something that might surprise: Children’s stories.

She wrote letters and cards to her friends, even though they lived in Santa Rosa and she could visit them anytime she liked. Among the correspondence are stories about her cat Spunky and its seven kittens. The kitties take a vacation to Disneyland, visit Richard Nixon in the White House, have dinner with Roy Rogers and enjoy other splendid adventures. I haven’t read them but Gaye says they are well written, charming and funny. I’ll take her word on that.

The stories she sent to LeBaron and Helen Rudee were handwritten and Pepper also drew illustrations. They’re now in a folder at Sonoma State as part of the Gaye LeBaron Collection and since May 2, 2024 is the 110th anniversary of Pepper’s birth, perhaps SSU might consider transcribing them into eBook format or digitizing them for online reading.

In her Press Democrat obit, a caregiver at the Petaluma nursing home said, “She was a character here, too. She liked to joke. She was a very happy person.” For much of her life she was a ward of the state, spending her childhood stuck in orphanages and her prime years locked away in a horrific institution. As she approached middle age her future appeared just as dismal; she had a 5th grade education (supposedly) and no skills. She was not on track to end up as an independent and “very happy person.” More likely she would live on the margins, remaining a charity case or working some menial and thankless job where nobody knew her name.

Yet today in Santa Rosa here we are, sitting around the internet’s unflickering campfire and swapping half century-old stories about the woman Linda Garcia Dardon invented called “Pepper.”

And that is simply remarkable, if you think about it.


1 FindAGrave.com has a photo from the April 23 1968, Press Democrat showing Dave “Bugsy” Hill, Pepper and Bob Torvick together.

2 Longtime SR Street Character Dies At 78 by Tim Tesconi, August 9 1992 Press Democrat

3 Gaye LeBaron column, September 21, 1975 Press Democrat

4 Salty Pepper Lived Life Her Way by Chris Smith, August 13 1992 Press Democrat

Read More

1978malltitle

ROAD TO THE MALL: ALL PLANS REVEALED

You’re standing at the intersection of Fourth and B streets, next to where the Citibank building is now. It is March 15, 1978 – groundbreaking day for the downtown mall.

Twice before you’ve visited this spot; the most recent was the 1982 grand opening of the mall. In 1972 you were also here for a last look-see at the old district west of B before the city began demolishing it all. Those time machine trips were mentioned in the first chapter of this series, “HOW THE MALL CAME TO BE.”

But before you now in 1978 is a vast vacant lot, 43 acres scraped clear of the barber shops, the hotels once home to pensioners, the dive bars and the ballet school, the grand Art Deco “Cal” movie palace, the thrift shops and lunch counters. Gone are places where you could swing by after work and go home with the latest Elton John album or a live parakeet in a cage – the sort of eclectic district whose character helps a town thrive. All that remains now is the old Post Office, which will be moved in a couple of years and become the Sonoma County Museum.

About 300 yards away, near what once was the corner of Second and A streets, there’s something going on. You see a raised platform with a lectern – although so few are in the audience that a speaker could be easily heard without a microphone.

The Press Democrat allowed reporter Paul Ingalls a bit of poetic license to set the scene:

Like a Shakespearian play, groundbreaking of Santa Rosa’s downtown shopping center unfolded Wednesday, revealing the worries, dreams and bitterness of those who have struggled over the mammoth development for so long. By comparison to the huge center the crowd which appeared on the project site for the 4 p.m. ceremonies was small. But among the group were the characters who have fought and promoted the project through more than six years of studies, public hearings, official meetings and lawsuits. There were those who claim they are powerful and those who claim they are not; those who think they have won and those who think the war is not over.

Such a meager attendance seems odd, considering that morning a PD editorial boasted this is “the beginning of a new day” that will bring “a thriving shopping center in the heart of our city.” The paper will later claim a poll shows four out of five residents want the mall opened ASAP.

Yet the crowd doesn’t seem too appreciative of the blessings that are surely soon to come. In front of the rostrum a young girl marches back and forth with a protest sign. There are also adults (including a former Planning Commissioner) holding posters that read, “Don’t divide our city!” and “Don’t isolate Railroad Square” and “Did you vote on urban renewal?”

A citizen’s protest movement against a big commercial development? Sure, maybe in Berkeley or Greenwich Village but not in Santa Rosa, where the Chamber of Commerce and the Press Democrat had always steered the bus without much challenge.

Few complained when the city declared its intention in 1970 to plow under about a third of the downtown area. Nor were many (except for the Coddings) terribly upset when our redevelopment agency tossed long-promised plans to create a convention center and performing arts theater, instead inviting a Southern California developer to build a shopping center.

Not until 1974 when people realized their beloved Cal theater would be torn down did protests begin. The resistance spread deeper roots the following year after the City Council formed a citizen advisory committee which turned out to be a sham, attempting to promote their plan to spend public money on mall development while making ham-fisted efforts to intimidate community leaders into going along quietly. And did I forget to mention the Council dusted off an old law to ensure that voters could have no say in these dealings?

(Here’s also a reminder this is all part of a broader series on Santa Rosa redevelopment: “YESTERDAY IS JUST AROUND THE CORNER,” which includes an index covering everything on the topic going back to the 1960s. This is chapter ten of the series just about the downtown mall.)

That it took so long for an opposition movement to coalesce doesn’t reflect public apathy so much as it was difficult to follow what was really going on. A lack of transparency and obstinance from both elected and non-elected officials is a common thread in this series; nearly every chapter has examples of the city deliberately making public information hard to find. Pivotal agenda items were sometimes not included in meeting notices printed in the newspaper; the library had only one non-circulating copy of the EIR – Urban Renewal Agency director James Burns said that was to “keep down the cost of governmental services to taxpayers;” the Community Development Commission (formerly the URA) stalled on releasing documents and sometimes wouldn’t answer even basic questions. Once the 20+ opposition groups began to form there were opportunities for people to network and share information.

Even at the time of the 1978 groundbreaking there were major issues still unresolved, including details of how the city would finance $4 million for infrastructure work needed before the mall construction. Those opposed feared traffic backups downtown because studies predicted Third Street would reach its capacity around 1990. (The city was also chastened by CalTrans because the EIR didn’t consider what impact the mall might have on highway traffic, which proved to be a far greater concern once the mall opened.) And as the protest signs said, the mall was going to further divide downtown from Railroad Square.

All of these problems were directly tangled up with “Phase III.” That was the name for the 12-acre section that covered Fifth Street to Seventh and included the Cal Theater, the Bishop-Hansel auto dealership, the old Post Office and Sears. Today it’s the site of Macy’s and the mall’s north parking garage.

There probably would have been little to no resistance to the mall if not for Phase III (except from the Coddings, of course, who wanted developer Hahn to drop out so they could build their own project). Yes, many would object to having any sort of downtown mall, but a smaller one that ended at Fifth Street – or better yet, Fourth – wouldn’t have blocked off a large section of downtown or had the funding and traffic worries.

Or if you want to visit a different alternative universe, more people would probably have fought against the mall from the beginning if they knew what it was going to look like. Either Hahn was keeping his plans close to his vest or the developer-friendly Press Democrat was negligent in keeping the public informed. Or some of both.

The first time anyone in Santa Rosa glimpsed his plans was a 1973 layout seen in the EIR. Besides showing a parking garage on B Street that blocks the mall off from downtown, this version was notable because Hahn presumed he would gain approval to include Phase III in the project, although that wouldn’t happen for another year.

Hahn presented a scale model of what he was planning to the city Design Review Board in the summer of 1974. No picture appeared in the newspaper, but he said it came “95 percent of the way” to meeting concerns about the design.

That could be the same model shown in a 1977 feature in the PD.1 The description in the paper stated the design would feature “heavily landscaped exterior mini-parks.” Note there is no parking garage on the north side next to Macy’s, nor is there that peculiar little access road that provides a shortcut between B and Sixth Streets for those in the know. (Santa Rosa Trivial Pursuit question: What year was the Sixth Street highway underpass created? A: 2012, thirty years after the mall opened.)

Scale model of the proposed mall, looking west. The street on the far right is Seventh St.
Scale model of the proposed mall, looking west. The street on the far right is Seventh St.

While that model clearly shows the mall squatting atop Fifth Street, critics believed this was a negotiable point. Two candidates for City Council replied to the PD’s “new day” editorial by insisting the sacrifice of Fourth and Fifth to the development would create a traffic mess “worse than Steele Lane.” Later in 1978, a coalition of Santa Rosa citizens’ groups filed a suit over the issue, arguing this demonstrated collusion between the city and the developer.2


A WALKWAY TO RAILROAD SQ?

With no means to drive (or bike) from downtown to Railroad Square without taking a detour through Third or Seventh Street, a pedestrian corridor through the mall was still in the plans…right?

Look again at the 1973 layout and find there’s a direct something between B and Morgan Streets. What was that? An aisle through the mall, open only during business hours? An outdoor passageway, perhaps with gates on either side that can be lowered when the mall is closed? Or was it a tunnel, as underground parking was part of the plans at the time? The EIR was silent, although the consultants who wrote the report gently chided the developer and the city for not doing enough to link the mall with downtown via pedestrian access. (This is further discussed in the EIR chapter.)

The issue remained unresolved in 1977, although the model seen above suggests a skylight over a straight line passageway. The accompanying article in the PD said, “Hahn’s architects will continue designing the 750,000 sq. ft. center…What remains is the specific appearance of the entrance at Fourth Street and treatment of the walkway through the facility toward Railroad Square.”

Depending on whom you asked, the rebels preferred Fifth to remain an open street (with Macy’s separated from the mall), become an underpass (apparently like Third St.) or a tunnel under the store, starting east of B Street and ending near Railroad Square.

Hahn and the department stores pushed back – hard. The developer said he had letters from both Sears and Macy’s that they would pull out of the mall if any of those options were approved. (FYI: The executive from Sears was named in the PD article, but not the one from Macy’s.)

Worse yet, Hahn threatened to sue the city into the next century and beyond if Fifth Street remained open. The man who normally came off as a kindly grandpa said he would kill the whole mall project and use “every legal means available to us for the recovery of the $2 million plus expended on the project to date.”

Yet a potential lawsuit was just the beginning of Santa Rosa’s nightmare: The city would have to repay Hahn’s 1973 “good faith” deposit of $500,000 (with interest), and the developer now had approval to buy the property on both sides of Third St. where the Sears store was to be built. As Hugh Codding pointed out, he would be paying roughly 15¢ on the dollar, so he could reap further millions by selling that prime real estate at market rates.

The City Council rushed to approve the street closures as expected, although this time the vote wasn’t unanimous. It seems the pro-development forces had another problem: One of the leading rebels was now sitting on the Council.

With rare exceptions (such as Hugh Codding’s tenure in the 1960s) the midcentury Santa Rosa City Council was made up of middle-aged shopkeepers and the occasional banker.3 So it came as a surprise to many when the city’s general elections held a few days after the groundbreaking found the top vote-getter for the Council was Jerry Wilhelm, a 27 year-old attorney. Wilhelm had worked at the California Rural Legal Assistance nonprofit and was attorney for the Santa Rosa Ad Hoc Citizens’ Committee, which had emerged as the leading activist group opposing the mall. They had a reputation for butting heads with the city, most famously in early 1977 when the mayor was forced to admit the Council had acted illegally by rushing through approval of a subdivision so the landowner could enjoy a fat tax break.

Once on the Council, Wilhelm wasted no time in challenging the status quo. (Part of his campaign motto was, “stop special favors to the favored few.”) He was a Fifth Street tunnel advocate, insisting something to preserve the street needed to be addressed before mall construction began.

As far as Hahn’s threat to leave unless the streets were closed, Wilhelm said it was a bluff because Santa Rosa was such a “plum” he’d never walk away. The EIR was outdated and needed to be amended or completely redone, Wilhelm insisted, particularly the section on mall financing in light of Prop. 13. And speaking of which, Hahn had said he would donate $400 thousand annually to the city for ten years to make up for lost tax revenues. Wilhelm replied Hahn was going to be saving $1.2M a year in taxes under the new law, so he wasn’t really being so benevolent.

Wilhelm was invited to speak at a Downtown Development Association luncheon. Gentle Reader probably assumes the merchants in that bastion of Babbittry would be fighting mall construction tooth and claw. The addition of dozens of new chainstores just down the street couldn’t possibly help their own businesses – right?

To the contrary, Wilhelm was told 85 percent of the membership was not concerned at all. The Councilman argued the point; he told them a mall is “not designed to have a spill-over effect. It’s a little too much to expect that people will start to walk all over town after driving that far (to get to the shopping center),” the PD reported.

But the DDA loved the plans and saw the street closures working to their advantage because it would create a bottleneck on Third Street. Wilhelm taped the luncheon meeting and recorded Bill McNeany, head of Rosenberg’s Department Store, saying this:

“We want a captive shopper. And once he gets down here, let him fight his way out, to then shop in the stores on his way out – ‘I’m not going to go to my car because the traffic is too bad. I’ll go shop instead.’ Once we get him in, let’s keep him here. We want a captive audience.”

Gaye LeBaron though it rude of Wilhelm to record the meeting and it was a shame McNeany got flak for his remarks since he was really the “original Mr. Nice Guy.” But someone (Gaye suspected Codding attorney Bill Smith) took his idea and formed a parody organization, the “Committee to Close Third Street too.” T-Shirts were made and press releases handed out; one read, “Let’s close Third Street too and then instead of one vast city we can have two half vast cities!”

We fly ahead to 1980; Sears’ new store opened and there was still squabbling over what was to be done with Fifth Street. All of the many lawsuits against the mall were over, except for a Codding appeal challenging the EIR and that 1978 complaint about street closures filed by a coalition of Santa Rosa citizens’ groups as mentioned above.

captivead(RIGHT: One of several ads from the Coalition for a Sensible Downtown Plan that appeared in the PD during 1978-1979)

Part of that coalition was the “Coalition for a Sensible Downtown Plan” – which was partially funded by the Coddings – and the group assumed leadership, printing leaflets and buying large ads in the Press Democrat, such as the example shown here. Some ads would list names of a hundred or so people who had signed aboard, but all included that tone-deaf McNeany “captive shopper” quote.

When the suit finally came before Superior Court Judge Bryan Jamar, they found him as sympathetic as any plaintiff could wish for. When the city attorney said traffic studies showed traffic would flow smoothly once Fourth and Fifth streets were fully closed, the judge snapped, “You wanna bet?” and he wouldn’t change his mind “even if there were a zillion traffic studies.” Still, he ruled the city had the power to abandon those public rights-of-way, as “it was the council’s decision to make based on the evidence they had at the time.” Poof! And our last hope to integrate the mall as part downtown vanished.

The Sensible Downtown group was led by Hal Coleman, a board member of the influential Santa Rosa Democratic Club and who had been a candidate for Council in 1978. Now in 1980 he was running again, this time as part of a “slate” with fellow Sensible Downtown activist Norman Boyer, the two of them vowing to join Wilhelm in creating a new “philosophical majority.”

The thought of the three of them voting in synch surely caused ice water to run down spines at City Hall, as it was the exact scenario that led Hahn to sue Corte Madera six years earlier. There an anti-mall council was voted in and they put Hahn’s shopping center development on hiatus. Hahn retaliated by filing a $10M suit for supposed lost future income. A PD editorial called the possibility of something similar happening here “disturbing:”

…They imply they would join with present Councilman Jerry Wilhelm to form that new majority. We find this disturbing, because one of the positions which all three have in common is opposition to the downtown shopping center as it is presently planned…It seems logical to us that the election of Coleman and Boyer could be considered by them, and Councilman Wilhelm, as a mandate to reopen the entire downtown plan for review. Reopening the subject of the downtown plan at this late date would be counter to the interests of the city…

That neither of them won is somewhat a surprise, as even the PD conceded the Sensible Downtown group seemed to have broad popular support. Perhaps it was because there was a sense that the game was over – which it indeed was. There would be no further lawsuits or other actions to delay construction or seek design changes of the mall.

But there was a final big lawsuit to be filed that year: In July, the Redevelopment Agency sued the Coddings for $4 million plus damages. Among the charges were “malicious abuse” of the courts by filing ten suits and financing five more to delay mall construction and prevent its financing.4 Codding agreed to a $675k out of court settlement in 1982.

Codding attorney Bill Smith was portrayed by the Press Democrat as a bully, hectoring the poor, poor members of the City Council or Redevelopment Agency who had to sit quietly through his anti-mall diatribes and aggressive questioning. For those keeping track of such things, let it be known at three hearings police were called to get Smith to hush up. On one of those occasions Smith had been challenged to a fistfight.

But besides serving the interests of the Coddings and their construction business, he deserves great respect for acting as the de facto public watchdog over Santa Rosa’s whole urban renewal/redevelopment slog from 1973 to 1980, even on points that didn’t directly impact Codding. Thanks to him we learned of Hahn’s threatened lawsuit against Corte Madera after he obtained a copy of the developer’s letter and slipped it to the PD.

Smith was in attendance at a URA meeting in January 1975 when the Agency discussed what to do about the Bishop-Hansel auto dealership and its claim the agency owed it $300,000. (For those needing a refresher in the urban renewal game: A city agency would pay market value for a property, bundle it with other parcels and then sell everything to a developer for pennies on the dollar.)

Walter Hansel said he was told in April 1972 by Lester Beldon, then the URA chair, their A Street location would be redeveloped. Then and over the following years, the agency told Hansel the purchase deal would go through “sometime in 1972,” 1973, 1974, “and perhaps April 1975.” Meanwhile, the Ford dealer had spent more than $300k preparing for their move to Corby Ave.5

Although Smith was not the attorney for the dealership, he spoke up at that 1975 meeting to point out an interesting detail: The car lot was within the Phase III area. Hansel supposedly had been told it was going to be part of the land required by the mall more than two years before the City Council hearing where Phase III would be approved.

This started “another of those bitter shouting matches” (as the PD put it) between Smith and the URA directors, who refused to answer any of the lawyer’s questions.

Said Smith, “I don’t think we’ve been told everything the agency knows. I think the taxpayers of Santa Rosa have a right to know why a reputable firm is bringing this action.” He was told to sit down and this, by the way, was one of those meetings where the police would be called to silence him. True to par, the agency followed by debating whether there was any way they could blame their broken obligations to Bishop-Hansel on Codding.

While Bishop-Hansel was reluctant to leave its downtown location, another business within Phase III was quite eager to move.6 It was Sears, and their managers had likewise started making plans in 1972, before the area got a green light for redevelopment. Only Sears wasn’t talking to Santa Rosa’s URA – they were negotiating with developer Hahn.

Architectural elevation drawing by Cal Caulkins of the Sears Department store on B Street.
Architectural elevation drawing by Cal Caulkins of the Sears Department store on B Street.

And what makes that twist in the narrative particularly interesting is that those talks were supposedly underway even before Hahn was in the picture.

Recall in early 1972 there was no developer tapped to develop the shopping center – or whether there would even be one. In March, URA Executive Director James Burns ran an ad inviting developers to contact him because they were “interested in exploring the possibility” of a downtown mall. By the end of the month the URA was in “exclusive negotiations” with Hahn which would continue on for a full year. That history is recounted in the chapter, “THE CHOSEN ONE.”

Hahn’s interest in a Santa Rosa project and his exclusive deal were first announced in the PD on March 28, 1972. (Please make note of that date.) The article also reported, “Mr. Burns said representatives for Sears in Santa Rosa have expressed some interest in the shopping center idea and are watching related steps closely.”

But a few years later, the Coddings obtained a letter Sears wrote to Hahn. According to the description of the contents printed in the PD, Sears told him they would be willing to sign on to the Hahn project as long as they could be guaranteed there would be an acceptable deal to sell the B Street property. The letter was dated February 23, 1972 – five weeks before Hahn was named as the chosen developer for the mall:

The Codding firm cites as evidence a letter from Sears to Hahn dated Feb. 23, 1972. Signed by B.K. Horne, property and construction manager at the Sears Alhambra office, the letter authorizes Hahn to announce that store’s interest in relocating its B Street store into the new downtown. Sears said its willingness to relocate was conditioned on an agreement by Aug. 31, 1972, and “the required disposition, whether by direct purchase or trade, of Sears current ownership of the present (B Street) Sears facility and its attendant land.” (Press Democrat, February 16, 1975)

Put this 1972 timeline under the microscope. February: Sears told Hahn they’ll need a purchase deal. March: The URA announced Hahn will be the developer. April: The URA promised Bishop-Hansel, which was just a block from Sears, they would get just the sort of market-value purchase deal Sears was requiring.

There’s a lot to unpack and it’s above my pay grade to even hypothesize whether or not all of that was completely legal. But it certainly seemed hinky; commitments were being made by a city agency to spend large sums of public money on an unapproved development project, while a wildcat developer with no connection (yet) to the city was negotiating deals that would do the same.

The 1975 PD article continued: “Nell Codding, secretary-treasurer of Codding Enterprises, the developer and former city official’s wife, said she believes Sears was demanding a good price for its B Street site before agreeing to enter Hahn’s project. She contends Hahn, in turn, pressured the city to declare Sears in the Phase Three urban renewal area to guarantee its entry into the project.”

Thus here, as best as I can piece everything together from ever-so-many Press Democrat articles, was the Big Plan: The 1972 RFP for shopping center developers was a sham because Hahn – who was recommended by URA exec James Burns – must have been secretively already chosen the designated winner. Hahn needed an anchor tenant for his future mall, and Sears was willing. For Sears to easily get market rate for its existing building they needed the city agency to buy it. In May, 1973, the City Council extended the urban renewal study area to include the blocks with Sears, the Ford dealership and the Cal Theater. Phase III was born, and with it was lost the hope for an intergral downtown.

So for the last time, imagine standing at the end of Fourth Street gazing west. Before you is the Great Wall of B Street, forever chopping off a large part of downtown Santa Rosa. As you grind your teeth and blame the 1970s City Council, the Urban Renewal Agency, the foolish downtown merchants and developer Ernest Hahn, don’t forget to aim some of your ire at Sears, which didn’t care what would happen to Santa Rosa as long as they got a good real estate deal.

NEXT: REGRETS, WE HAVE A FEW


1 The February 6, 1977 PD (page 3C, or #37 in newspapers.com) also shows a model for a Railroad Square “rehabilitation” and the only aerial photo I’ve ever seen of the demolished project area, although the Occidental Hotel, Cal Theater, and other Phase III structures are still standing.

2 The coalition suing to block the closure of Fourth, Fifth and A streets consisted of the Coalition for a Sensible Downtown Plan, the Irate Taxpayers Committee, Sonoma County Tomorrow and the Santa Rosa Ad Hoc Citizens’ Committee

3 Also on the City Council in 1978 (and was, in fact, then Santa Rosa’s mayor) was Donna Born, former Chair of the city Planning Commission. As discussed in the EIR chapter, she had spoken eloquently during the 1974 EIR hearing questioning the need for the mall to be enclosed and whether the mall’s design would integrate with the rest of downtown. On the Council, however, she mostly voted with the majority in favor of redevelopment although she identified herself as liberal.

4 The Press Democrat and other sources usually accuse the Coddings of being responsible for 18-22 lawsuits against the mall. See discussion in fn. 5 of the previous chapter.

5 Bishop-Hansel sued the URA in May 1975 for $500 thousand and asked another $350k in damages. The Ford dealership lost their case that November after the court ruled they couldn’t show URA statements had damaged their business. The following month they completed the move to Corby Ave.

6 The Santa Rosa Sears building was still fairly new having opened in 1949, but the chain felt it had outgrown its 75,000 sq. ft. and wanted to expand. The new store in the mall would be almost twice that size, not even counting the 18,000 sq. ft. auto center.
1978 rendering of the entrance to Santa Rosa Plaza
1978 rendering of the entrance to Santa Rosa Plaza

Read More

1974council

ROAD TO THE MALL: THE WAR COUNCIL

“This is a grotesque charade!” shouted William Smith, a lawyer prone to spicing his remarks with exclamation points.

He was at City Hall for a 1977 public hearing about a $4 million loan being given to the Santa Rosa Redevelopment Agency. Smith was demanding how and when the money was to be spent. The city was supposed to be repaid either by property taxes or a future bond.

The acting chairman for the Agency, Ted Grosman, gave a curt reply. “Your request will be taken under advisement and our staff, after research, will respond to it,” he said, adding it could take a week or more.

“If no one in this room knows when you are going to spend the money, then you must have an incompetent staff,” Smith declared.

“We have no intention of answering your questions without more research,” said Grosman.

“Research?” Smith yelled, according to the Press Democrat. “Why do you need to research it? You must all be bloomin’ idiots!”

Grosman told Smith he was “harassing the agency.” It was around that point when someone called the police.

Smith – the attorney for Codding Enterprises, which at that point had fought development of a downtown mall for about five years – had been at the same speakers’ podium a few days before when the City Council approved that loan on a unanimous vote. Besides objecting to the Agency only saying the money would be used for vague infrastructure improvements to support future construction of the mall, he argued the city had already sold $5M in bonds for the same purpose. Also, it was no sure thing that the mall would even be built.

“Apparently there are five idiots on the City Council,” Smith said, adding sarcastically the quasi-independent agency should be congratulated for “suckering the City Council [into the loan]. Not even the flim-flam man could have done a better job.”

By then the policeman had arrived. The officer yanked Smith away from the microphone on the third try.

More about the loan appears below; it kept coming back to haunt the mall project like Banquo’s ghost. But lest Gentle Reader be left with the impression Smith was the only boorish jerk in the Council chambers, at the earlier meeting Councilmen told him to shut up and not keep bothering them with his “same old tired song” about the city making questionable decisions. “As for the use of the money, we are allowed to use it for any redevelopment matter we choose,” said Director of Community Development Burns.

That princely attitude led City Hall to increasingly put Santa Rosa at legal and financial risk as it sought to accommodate Ernest Hahn, the developer who intended to develop a downtown mall. They transformed a commercial building project into a crusade which they earnestly believed could not be allowed to fail.

In pursuit of that the City Council and others at City Hall went to war. Actually, this was more of a new front in the ongoing mall war – already the Coddings and the city had been locked in courtroom combat for years. Their new nemesis was neither a lawyer or a rival developer; it was a sizable number of ordinary citizens. Yes, some of those people sided with Codding and opposed building a mega-mall downtown, but what they universally did not want was for the city to use millions of public $$ subsidizing the developer’s shopping center. Too many had bitter memories of going to City Hall with proposals to make their neighborhoods better places to live, only to be met with pushback against considering even their modest wishes. Better to hoard monies which might be needed for a project whose groundbreaking was still years away – or may not even materialize at all. There was no better example of displaced priorities in those mad times.

Much had happened in the three years since out-of-town consultants completed the Environmental Impact Report for the project in 1974. The City Council and the Urban Renewal Agency held a joint public hearing that October which lasted seven hours and drew 300+ people. Main items on the agenda were the certification of the EIR and formal inclusion of Phase III (the blocks from Fifth street to Seventh) into the redevelopment project.

Speaking against both topics were attorney Smith and others in Codding’s circle as well as members of the Save the Cal group that wanted the public to vote on whether the mall project should be approved. A few weeks later Codding Enterprises would file another stop-the-mall lawsuit – its sixth – arguing the EIR was inadequate, mainly because it accepted the city’s wildly optimistic projections that the mall would immediately be so successful it would quickly pay off that $4 million loan and whatever additional millions to raised via bonds. Failing their best-case scenario could mean that schools, fire departments and other public services might be screwed out of funding for years. All this was discussed here earlier in some depth.

(Here’s also a reminder this is all part of a broader series on Santa Rosa redevelopment: “YESTERDAY IS JUST AROUND THE CORNER,” which includes an index covering everything on the topic going back to the 1960s. This is chapter nine of the series just about the downtown mall.)

The EIR also downplayed how backing the mall was placing the city at financial risk because Washington had turned off the urban renewal easy money spigot. Until 1973, Santa Rosa and other cities knew they could get millions of federal dollars as easily as if they were merely collecting warm change from the bottom of a clothes dryer. Declare a section of town as being old and rundown – AKA “blighted” – and the government would pay to buy up all of the properties. The city would then bulldoze it flat and sell the parcels to developers for a fraction of the appraised value (or even free!) with the assumption something would be built that was nicer and would bring in more tax revenue.

Some funding would still be coming in because this was an urban renewal project already in the pipeline before the 1973 cutoff – an issue that still rankled, because Santa Rosa won fast approval by claiming it was for “emergency rehabilitation” due to the 1969 quake, not someday building a mega-mall on the edge of downtown.1

Replacing the government’s Urban Renewal program was the Community Development Block Grant (CDBG) program. In theory, it was intended to cut federal red tape and return more control to the community level, where wiser and faster decisions could be made on poverty-reducing assistance such as creating more affordable housing. Of course, it could also work the other way – a rapacious local government might use it to grab more power and spend public funds with little oversight. In theory.

The first tranche of government money under the new grant program was to be $1.8M annually, starting in 1975. As part of the Housing Act’s requirement for citizen participation, Santa Rosa set up a “Community Development Task Force” to ask the public how they wanted the funds to be used. Task Force members – appointed by the City Council from several city offices including the Urban Renewal Agency (URA) – scheduled meetings with the League of Women Voters, leaders of various community advocacy groups (the Chamber of Commerce was the only one named by the Press Democrat), and held a few forums open to the general public.

An account of one of these meetings appeared in a letter to the PD, and suggested the Task Force wasn’t all that interested in listening to the public. The letter also happens to underscore a point that later came out – that the Task Force was counting such meetings with neighborhood study groups as “citizen input” even while they were withholding information, particularly that funds might be available to make civic improvements which were greatly desired by local residents.

…The “task force” consisted of five bright young men from the manager’s office, engineering, planning, etc. Two men carried the table, one man the slide projector. One man set up the screen and the fifth man pushed the button when the recording told him to change the slide. Following that, one of the men spent 20 minutes telling about the Schedule 8 program which is not yet available. Only after that did we learn that Schedule 8 is not a part of the $1.8 million. Why it was introduced is still a question in my mind. A printed sheet entitled “What is Community Development Revenue Sharing” was distributed. You cannot meaningfully describe an object without telling its purpose. Yet with intent or not this is just what the city has done…Page One of the [new Housing Act] law states: “The primary objective of this title is the development of viable urban communities, by providing decent housing and a suitable living environment and expanding economic opportunities, principally for persons of low and moderate income.” Square this law against the city’s information sheet…

The letter concluded by urging people attend upcoming City Council hearings and that “the charge was made at the meeting that the determination has already been made on how to spend the money.”

Such a decision had indeed been made. The URA wanted $1M – more than half of the entire funding – for the mall project, likely to be used for constructing the Third Street underpass.2 Funding for that was considered the top infrastructure priority on behalf of the mall developer. That million dollars infusion was also expected to ease the pressure on quickly sealing a deal for the controversial $4 million city loan.

With the wisdom of hindsight, it’s clear the Task Force outreach was about as wrongheaded as it could be. The city tried to use it as a PR campaign to sway the town into believing the mall would be a great benefit to the whole community. Instead, they pissed off nearly everyone and mobilized a resistance movement that had not existed before. An opposition leader later told the City Council they needed to clean house and replace everyone responsible for the SNAFU, having “waited until the last minute before they started this furor about citizen participation…perhaps you have relied too heavily on your City Manager and his staff.”

The Santa Rosa-Sonoma County Branch of the NAACP said the attempt to grab that one million dollars was completely unacceptable, and had already met with federal and state officials in San Francisco. “There’s a lot of Mickey Mousing going on in this thing,” said the chair of the NAACP housing and community development committee. “It would be the biggest rip off on the people of Santa Rosa that has ever been perpetrated.”

Ann L. Byrd, president of the local NAACP, sent a letter to the city saying they were considering a lawsuit. “The city wants to spend the money for downtown development while not doing anything about housing for low and moderate income people…it is beyond our comprehension how the special Task Force, set up by the City Council, can recommend to the citizens of this community a plan that will subsidize a private developer to build a shopping center…”

Over just a few weeks in January 1975 a coalition of about 20 groups joined in protest of the Task Force plan, some apparently formed expressly to oppose it.3

Ahead of the first City Council hearing on the $1.8M spending plan, the URA cut its mall money demands from $1M to $681,000. It was still by far the largest chunk of the funding; despite the federal grant coming from a program intended to support low-income housing the Task Force suggested only $260k be used for that purpose, recommending the city try to find federal assistance somewhere else.

“The problems of today in unemployment, housing and social areas must be addressed,” read the new report from the Task Force, “but they must share available resources with other community development needs in order that Santa Rosa remain a viable urban city.”

This let-them-eat-cake pose only deepened suspicions City Hall wasn’t listening to anyone outside of City Hall. “We’re getting sold down the drain,” a group spokesman told the PD. “The people are really shook up. We figured this was the one time we could get a little help.”

The City Council chambers were packed for the 3½ hour hearing and not one person spoke in favor of using federal dollars to fund the mall. NAACP president Byrd asked, “Are you so worried that the citizens will disagree with your stragedy to subsidize a private developer?” (And yes, “stragedy” is a real word.) Another coalition member also wondered why we were working so hard to support a Los Angeles developer: “We are in the choicest part of the fastest growing county in the Bay Area. Is it necessary to offer this much inducement to get someone into a sure thing?”

Instead of the mall, Santa Rosans said they wanted a senior center, a youth center, a rehab center, a daycare center and low income housing. Two Councilmen (Zatman and Jones) were called out for having remarked city-subsidized housing was a step towards socialism.

Disturbing comments were made at that hearing and the one following. The group from the Burbank Gardens neighborhood had requested traffic work in their area estimated to cost $50 thousand, but the chairperson was told by a city official that opposition to the Task Force proposal could make approval doubtful.

NAACP president Byrd, who owned a public relations company, said at a hearing she was warned to “tread lightly” with criticism “and reminded that people such as yourselves [the Councilmen] are ‘the bread and butter’ of my business,” as her voice broke with emotion, according to the PD. “Economic reprisal can destroy my business.”

Faced with a united front of citizen opposition, the mayor announced he was creating a “Community Development Advisory Committee” to work with the Task Force. There were to be a dozen members of the public joined by three from the city, all selected by the mayor.

But like the Task Force outreach sessions, it was really a clumsy attempt to propagandize for the mall project. The mayor decreed no recommendations would be considered unless they were unanimous. Committee members would meet in secret and be forbidden to speak with the press. And it particularly rankled he was limiting membership to a small number not representative of the coalition’s diversity. “You’re not going to play that old divide and conquer game with us. There are no Chicanos. There are no Indians. There are no neighborhoods,” Byrd told a PD reporter. “We won’t serve. That just wasn’t cool.” They walked out during the second meeting and the coalition issued a statement city staff was attempting to “buy off” individual members.

The faux advisory committee was very much the final straw. The NAACP’s West Coast legal team began preparing a lawsuit against the city and notified the federal and regional housing offices that Santa Rosa was not in compliance with the Community Development Act because there was no meaningful public input.

Ann Byrd also told the Council that coalition members (there were over 300 at the last hearing, remember) were furiously writing letters to any/all elected officials. They were also starting to gather names on petitions for a recall of the entire City Council. If the city continued using their spending plan, Byrd said, the coalition “will be forced to proceed with the distribution of petitions to secure the necessary signatures to recall each and every one of you as soon as possible.”

The City Council blinked. The possibility of all redevelopment funding being delayed (or even cancelled!) was too great a risk. They cut the budget for the mall project to $550k and added $100k to the housing portion. Although the Council surely knew there was no actual threat of recalls, it probably came a little too close to pitchforks and torches for politicians to be comfortable.4

In the middle of all this churn during Feb. 1975, the Council put its finger on the true reason why so many were protesting the $1.8M spending plan, the sham meetings by the Task Force, and general direction of the mall project. It was all the fault of that mastermind of masterminds, that Svengali of Svengalis: Hugh Codding.

At the same session where they approved the lower $550k for the mall, the Council spent considerable time ragging on Codding. Besides the vintage whine that his lawsuits had blocked other means of funding the mall project, they complained this had forced them to dip into the community development money. Councilman Poznanovich didn’t directly accuse Codding of bribing the 20 groups in the opposition coalition, but made a snarky charge they were “led down the golden path by Codding.” Hugh called Poznanovich a “damn liar” and “stupid,” according to the PD.

Santa Rosa continued to find itself unprepared to enter this brave new world of service oriented government. The city lacked a housing department; when required, the City Council was expected to don its Housing Authority hat. After some bureaucratic can-kicking, it was decided in 1976 to create the Community Development Commission. It consisted of a (non-Council) Housing Authority together with the Urban Renewal Agency, now renamed the Redevelopment Commission. Both offices were made up with the same five men from the pro-developer URA, although there were two women added to the Housing Authority side.

In the latter part of the 1970s the Coddings continued to file lawsuits, including two over that $4 million city loan. (At one point a judge ordered the many Codding suits consolidated into “the validation suit.”) He didn’t win any of them – although I’m not positive of that, as it’s even unclear how many were actually filed. The Press Democrat counted variously between 18-22.5 Rohnert Park lost its anti-trust suit against Santa Rosa, developer Hahn and HUD; Hahn lost his $40M anti-trust suit against Codding. As it appeared more evident the mall really was going to be built, the focus of critics turned to trying to find ways to mitigate the impacts the thing would have on the town, as discussed in the following chapter.

Throughout those last pre-mall years the project continued to strain city budgets, particularly after passage of Proposition 13. Hahn said he would pay the Redevelopment Agency $400,000 a year to make up the difference in lost property tax, and that agreement was used to secure the long-delayed $4M loan from the city. The window for starting construction was closing fast; by the end of the decade interest rates were up to ten percent and still climbing.

The tight money situation meant city infrastructure projects related to the mall were pushed into 1979, including street improvements and a $1 million traffic signal system. At the same time, Robert Gong, owner of the G&G Shopping Center on West College, asked for permission to expand. Sorry, he was told; street work would be necessary and there’s no money left in the budget. Couldn’t you wait a few years? asked the Planning staff.

To get them to improve the streets – the same sort of work that was being done for the mall developer for free – Gong had to give the city a five-year, no-interest $350,000 loan.

The word Gentle Reader is probably trying to think of right now might be “extortion.”

NEXT: ALL PLANS REVEALED

 


1 HUD approval on a new urban renewal application usually took 3-4 years and required costly and extensive studies, so Santa Rosa’s 1970 proposal would certainly not have made it through the process before the 1973 cutoff if normal rules were followed. Instead of conceding the work to be done between B Street and the highway constituted a new project, the city simply appended its application to the old redevelopment plan for the area around Courthouse Square from the mid-1960s and claimed it was just a continuation. (MORE)

2 It wasn’t until 1977 before Santa Rosa was awarded $1,283,000 to “depress” Third Street. The grant came from the federal Economic Development Administration (EDA) because the work was projected to provide a significant number of construction jobs.

3 The most vocal groups against the Task Force proposal were the Sonoma County People for Economic Opportunity (SCPEO), the NAACP, the Burbank Area Project Committee, the Valley Oaks Tenants Inter-action Committee, Sonoma County Tomorrow, Taxpayers Committee for the Right to Vote, the Women’s Council of Realtors, People for a Better Society and Energy for the People. Another group that filed suit at this time was the United Community Development Corp (UCDC) representing Filipino, Native and Mexican Americans. Their issue was that the EIR didn’t consider impact on an archeological site delimited by Santa Rosa Creek, highway 101, B street and halfway between First and Second streets.

4 As the Save the Cal group earlier discovered, it was extremely difficult to place a citizen initiative on the ballot. Not only did they have to collect signatures from 25 percent of registered voters, it was baked into the City Charter that petitions could be signed at only three locations which had to be approved by the city.
5 Some Codding lawsuits were refiled, leaving a question as to whether they should be counted as a separate complaint. Also, it could be said Codding technically won his first suit, made in April 1973 when the URA stonewalled the release of an important document from Hahn. The letter was disclosed a week later, and when the suit came before the court it was ruled as moot.
Santa Rosa City Council, 1974-1975. L to R: Clement "Ting" Guggiana, Gerald Poznanovich, Murray Zatman, John H. Downey Jr., Gregory Jones Jr.
Santa Rosa City Council, 1974-1975. L to R: Clement “Ting” Guggiana, Gerald Poznanovich, Murray Zatman, John H. Downey Jr., Gregory Jones Jr.

Read More