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ROAD TO THE MALL: GREATEST EXPECTATIONS

By Christmas 1974, Santa Rosa City Hall was at war. Not good, but at least the bleak concrete architecture that made the government complex look like a fortified bunker now seemed fitting.

The city was fighting its war on several fronts. The county was suing the city, accusing it of exploiting a loophole which would cheat the treasury out of millions of dollars per year. Hugh Codding was now on his seventh lawsuit to block Santa Rosa’s Urban Renewal Agency (URA) from working with the developer planning to build the downtown mall, and likewise the city had sued Codding to put obstacles in his plans for a shopping center in Rohnert Park. (A peek into our crystal ball shows that about a year later Rohnert Park will be suing Santa Rosa over building the downtown mall and the developer will sue Codding.) And meanwhile Santa Rosa’s City Council was warring with the public, not only refusing to allow a referendum vote on the shopping center but calling the referendum proposal itself as being illegal.

Watch “Game of Thrones”? What happened in Santa Rosa during 1974 and 1975 was filled with just as much conflict and intrigue – not to mention being just as difficult to follow, should you not keep up with each confusing turn in a story that seemed as if it would never end.

The key takeaway from this chapter should be there was never any resistance to building the downtown shopping mall from the City Council or other Santa Rosa decision makers. Making a deal with Los Angeles developer Ernest W. Hahn had broad support from the beginning, even from downtown merchants. They believed it would make Santa Rosa a more prosperous and better place to live.

But as the project became more ambitious the city became more dependent upon it being built, and they indebted the town in ways that would have been considered risky, even scandalous, in other times. City planners convinced themselves the mall would bring in staggering piles of cash and every delay in construction meant the town was being cheated out of what was its due. Money fever raged through the many offices in City Hall like a pandemic, and people who raised questions or urged caution were deemed enemies. Community betterment took a backseat to making sure developer Hahn was kept happy. That 1974 Christmas lawsuit was over the Board of Supervisors fearing school districts would be screwed out of funding in order to keep Hahn’s property taxes artificially low.

(Developments described here follow key events in 1972 and early 1973 which were introduced in the previous chapter. If there are unfamiliar terms or names “MR. CODDING HAS SOME OBJECTIONS” is a good starting point, with an index to the whole “ROAD TO THE MALL” series also available.)

Our story resumes as Codding’s second lawsuit was filed in June 1973. It raised a valid complaint there had been no public hearings concerning a downtown shopping center – much less, government approval to build same – yet the city was more gung-ho than ever over Hahn’s mall.

Another point made in the suit was more important, yet difficult to understand from coverage in the Press Democrat. Codding wanted to block a new city bond from being issued. The bond had “nothing to do with the shopping center,” the URA director told the PD – although that was inaccurate, as the main purpose of the bond was to obtain a federal grant to buy some of the property where the mall would be built. 1

From that point onwards, there were major new developments almost every month.

The Renewal Agency opened the door to sell the land to Hahn (it was an “interim resolution,” so there was still wiggle room). At the same time, the Rohnert Park City Council – which was rooting for Codding to build his “Coddingland” shopping center there – said they were considering suing Santa Rosa because the mall would “monopolize [county] sales tax revenue”. The mayor of Santa Rosa told them to butt out; we hadn’t made a fuss over their projects.

Hahn announced he had commitments from Sears and Macy’s for his future mall. Macy’s was the whale that Santa Rosa failed to land in the mid-1960s for the Courthouse Square area, so that was undeniably an impressive win. But what was the deal with Sears? They already had a store at the corner of B and 7th and it wasn’t even that old. The official reason was the chain wanted to double their space to put more emphasis on fashion and home furnishings, but as discussed later there was quite a bit more to it behind the scenes.

At the close of the previous chapter, the City Council had expanded the border of the urban renewal study area from Fifth street to Seventh. As of that September, this additional acreage had a name: Phase III.

Phase Three was quite different from Phase Two. It was to have a single store (Macy’s, although that decision was apparently in the future) along with its surrounding parking garage. Nor was it mentioned in early newspaper coverage whether it would be attached to the mall, thus closing off easy access to Railroad Square.

What readers of the Press Democrat were told was the new combined assessed value of Phases 2-3 was $13.7 million – a 550 percent increase over the mixed-use neighborhood it was replacing. The PD loved quoting such figures from URA Executive Director James K. Burns: “Discussions with Burns leaves one’s ears ringing with the promise of millions of dollars of economic improvement in exchange for blight.”

1974chart(RIGHT: Santa Rosa “development value” from urban renewal projects, as shown in a 1974 URA pamphlet.)

Those figures were just the beginning. With each passing year, estimates of all sorts kept skyrocketing. The mall would create 1,000, 1,500, 3,000 jobs. It would more than double retail sales by 1980, which would “revitalize” downtown businesses yet not compete with them. New construction would bring in $18 million – no, wait, we meant to say $60 million. The increase in commercial taxes would pay to redevelop even more of Santa Rosa (“Railroad Square could become an exciting ‘old town’ tourist center”). Perhaps schools should have placed caviar on the lunch menus so kids could get accustomed to the good life they were soon to enjoy.

City Hall had better hope lots of money would result from adding Phase III, because there was no clear way to pay for it. “There is no more money for urban renewal for Downtown Santa Rosa,” Burns announced, as President Nixon had slapped a moratorium on new redevelopment projects.2 Without the guarantee of free HUD money, Santa Rosa would be assuming a much higher risk – and Hahn made it clear there would be no mall without this extra land. Together with Phase II the footprint would be thirty acres and he said the usual shopping center size was 50 acres, leading Hahn to grump he would have to unhappily add a second floor to make up the shortage.

It would take months to have the legally-required Environmental Impact Report (EIR) and other studies prepared for the combined Phase II-III project, and to hurry it along Hahn allowed $98 thousand of his $500K “good will deposit” to help pay for it – although he expected the entire amount given back (with interest) once the project received a green light.

During this interim the first meek voices of opposition (other than the Coddings) began to be heard – with pro-mall forces eagerly waiting to shout them down.

At its February 14, 1974 meeting, members of the city Planning Commission raised questions about traffic and whether the mall could be open air, as was Coddingtown then. Commissioner William J. Weil, a vineyard realtor, mused that we should also consider whether or not the mall should be built. (This is exactly as it appeared in the meeting transcript, with the ellipsis probably showing rhetorical pauses in his remarks):

Has anybody really looked into this and said, you know, we need another shopping center in the town? And I think, especially the Urban Renewal Agency being a quasi-public agency, probably has a greater obligation than a private developer or private enterprise to look at the needs of the community and not to do something that is expedient for, …I don’t know how to say this thing without… in a sense feathering their nest. Then to look at the community as a whole and say this truly is the best thing. This is what the community needs.

Milquetoast as those comments were, they apparently set off alarm bells. The Press Democrat reported “Commission Chairman Donna Born said her group has been made ‘the bad guys.’ She said strong commission statements last week were meant to be constructive.” (Bookmark that “feathering their nest” comment, by the way – the issue will resurface.)

The PD was firmly in the Hahn/URA camp, and printed (wayyy too) many articles with Burns’ ear-ringing promises of great riches certain to come. The paper also downplayed news that might portray the developer poorly. The same week Planning Commissioners were being called “bad guys” only the most observant readers might have caught a passing reference that Hahn’s design at the time called for a 700 car, two story garage between his mall and B Street. So much for pretending Hahn had good intentions for the mall to be integrated with the rest of downtown Santa Rosa.

Worse, the PD tried to suppress news about Hahn threatening to sue a town that might reconsider plans to build a mall there. In January 1974 Hahn warned Corte Madera it would “suffer the consequences” if their City Council – which had recently elected an anti-mall majority – withdrew approval.3 Although the Marin I-J had published several articles about his $17.5 million threat, nothing about it appeared here for weeks, and then only after Codding’s lawyer, William Smith, slipped copies of Hahn’s ultimatum letter to the PD and members of the Santa Rosa City Council. Hahn told the Press Democrat the Corte Madera situation was completely different from here and insisted “we’ve never threatened a suit before.” Yet our local paper still managed to spin the news as if Hahn was being unfairly attacked, with the PD article framing it as “the latest development in the Codding Enterprises-Santa Rosa Urban Renewal Agency controversy.”

hahn(RIGHT: Undated portrait of Ernest W. Hahn courtesy the California Homebuilding Foundation)

Probably many in Santa Rosa were shocked to hear of Hahn playing lawsuit hardball. He seemed such a damnably likable fellow, a grandfatherly neighbor who might rock on his porch swing after supper, sipping a Coors Light while listening to a ballgame on the radio. Hahn came to Santa Rosa and usually made presentations or answered questions himself. And although he was a big shot, someone on FaceBook commented they would see him riding the bus from San Francisco.

Unlike Corte Madera, the decision-makers in Santa Rosa gave Hahn their full and unconditional faith that he would do what was best for the city. Part of the reason might be because he told them what they wanted to hear. While URA Director Burns was promising the mall would rain down riches, Hahn told them to feel good about tearing down an existing neighborhood because nothing worthwhile was being lost. “There were a lot of old buildings and vacant land there,” he said to the PD. “What are you going to do with it?”

So tight were Hahn and City Hall that we asked him to lend us money. Santa Rosa was turned down for a conventional $3.5M bank loan in order to finish acquiring land for Phase II and III. Hahn agreed to the loan at eight percent interest, the highest we could pay by law. This short term interim loan would be paid back by the muni bonds, which would in turn be paid back by the increased taxes expected once the mall opened. Gentle Reader is forgiven for now muttering, “gee, this sounds like a house of cards.”

The way the URA planned to use bonds for nearly all of the mall financing was always legally shaky, particularly since the city could no longer count on matching federal grants (see footnote 2). The Press Democrat mentioned the Hahn loan several times but was light on the details – except for one article’s scary statement “Hahn could foreclose on the property” if a judge later tossed out this use of bonds. The city and Hahn negotiated the loan for over three months before the idea was dropped.

The PD also neglected to explain that relying on Hahn as a banker might not be such a swell idea. In 1973 he had been sued for fraud and “irregular banking practices” for his role in the largest bank failure to date. The overall scandal was mentioned briefly in a 1975 profile of Hahn in the PD, but not that he personally paid a large settlement.4

The failure to land a (relatively modest) $3.5 million short-term loan threw the entire mall project into crisis, and URA Director James Burns continually barked that every month of delay in construction was costing the city about $100,000 (!) and the sole cause of all these woes was Hugh Codding and his gang of hoodlums. According to Burns, the Codding lawsuits spooked bankers from having anything to do with Santa Rosa.

Hahn was never as strident against Codding, but while defending his threat to release a courtroom Kraken on Corte Madera in early 1974, Hahn commented to the PD, “[Codding’s] attitude could jeopardize the future of downtown Santa Rosa…Other than Codding, I haven’t heard one voice in the community against the project.” That wasn’t quite true – see remarks above from the city Planning Commission – but Hahn was about to hear from lots of other dissident voices, which is the subject of the following chapter.

But a year after the 1974 Christmas lawsuit filed by the county, Ernest Hahn filed a $40M suit against Codding in federal district court in San Francisco. As summarized in the PD, Hahn alleged “Codding and his firm, Codding Enterprises, are guilty of anti-trust violations, defamation of character, and interfering with Hahn’s business relations with the city of Santa Rosa.”


1 The court dismissed Codding’s entire suit as “premature,” as the bond hadn’t been issued. The $1.8M TIF bond (see previous chapter sidebar) never got beyond URA passing a resolution for it, and it is not clear if it was ever anything more than a financial gimmick to obtain a matching amount of Community Development money. It was intended to make up for an $800 thousand shortage in the city’s required share to the overall urban renewal fund. The remaining million was to be added to the pool of money for renewal projects, such as a proposed parking lot between A and B streets or redevelopment around South Park. The week following Codding’s suit over that bond, the URA was awarded the matching $1.8 million grant for land acquisition in the Phase II area.
2 In order to avoid cuts to the $18 billion military budget, Nixon froze large parts of the budgets for key health, education and housing programs from the Kennedy and Johnson years. The new January 1973 guidelines for HUD grants and subsidies required local governments to acquire the properties, do all improvements and sell it to a developer within one year. By September – the month Phase III was announced – the rules were tightened further, essentially ending all federally funded projects except public housing for the elderly. (MORE)
3 Of the $17.5M Hahn was going to demand in the Corte Madera suit, $2.25M was for studies, presumably like the ones Santa Rosa thought it was getting for free. The rest was for lost POTENTIAL income.
4 Hahn’s start as a shopping center developer began after U.S. National Bank in San Diego acquired a bank Hahn co-founded that was in trouble because of poor loans. Hahn was named to the USNB board and when the bank collapsed in 1973 criminal charges were filed against the bank president for tax fraud, securities fraud, embezzlement and bank fraud. Hahn, who had been an active director, was on sabbatical at the time but was among those charged by the FDIC for engaging in “unsafe and unsound” banking practices. He paid up to $2M for settlement and attorney fees. For much more, see this article in the San Diego Reader.

NEXT: SAVE THE CAL

"Santa Rosa Urban Renewal Project Area" as shown in a 1974 URA pamphlet. Yellow: Phase I. Orange: Phase II. Tan: Phase III. Blue: Phase IV - Possible community/convention center. Green: Phase V - Possible Railroad Square historic tourist center.
“Santa Rosa Urban Renewal Project Area” as shown in a 1974 URA pamphlet. Yellow: Phase I. Orange: Phase II. Tan: Phase III. Blue: Phase IV – Possible community/convention center. Green: Phase V – Possible Railroad Square historic tourist center.

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POSITIVELY PEDESTRIAN 4TH STREET

Santa Rosa is tinkering with Fourth street again, hoping to keep its moribund business district from completely withering away during the Age of Coronavirus. The latest effort is to close off traffic on the 500 and 700 blocks (but not the 600 block), allowing restaurants and bars to setup more outside tables. The city will keep the blocks closed at least until January 31, 2021 but according to the PD, over 70% of the businesses on those blocks want the street closure to be permanent.

Go back about four decades, however, and tell people that Santa Rosa was going to block cars from Fourth street in 2020 and expect surprised reactions – because they would have expected the city had already done that.

Our story begins almost exactly 45 years ago in 1975, as the City Council clears the last major obstacle to final planning for the Santa Rosa Plaza Mall. The city would allow the developer to sink Third street so part of the shopping center could be built above it while lower Fifth street and A street would be folded into the mall plans. The matter of a Fourth street passageway between B street and Railroad Square was still unsettled – that’s a major story by itself and will be handled in a future article.

As much of the money to pay for that would come from the federal government, the Housing and Urban Development Dept. (HUD) had to give its blessing to the project. Its report from earlier that same year declared the mall would be generally a good thing for Santa Rosa, but there was concern that having it downtown could suck the life out of the existing business district: “…the older area could lose business, tenants would move elsewhere and the decline of another area of Santa Rosa would begin, possibly recreating a situation similar to that which necessitated urban renewal in the first place.”

To mitigate those concerns, the city and the Downtown Development Association – DDA to its friends – hired a respected San Francisco urban planning company, EDAW Inc. Their mission was to create “a complete, cohesive physical design plan” to “provide the necessary linkage” between the mall and the downtown core. So once again it was time to play Let’s Redesign Downtown – that ever-popular game in the 1960s that had enriched many out-of-town consultants. (Those layouts were discussed here in the series, “YESTERDAY IS JUST AROUND THE CORNER.”)

Given what they had to work with, their redesign was innovative. Like earlier plans there was an emphasis on streetscaping with lots of trees (primarily plums and magnolias). There was far more parking than we have today and it envisioned a free “people mover” shuttle looping continually between the garages and the stores.

But the highlight was turning Fourth street into a “meandering semi-mall” closed to traffic except for the people mover. Riley street would also become pedestrian only.

1977 Santa Rosa redesign by Charles A. Rapp/EDAW Inc. Fourth street "semi-mall" shown in green
1977 Santa Rosa redesign by Charles A. Rapp/EDAW Inc. Fourth street “semi-mall” shown in green

Another unique feature was the absence of traffic lights, which were only found where Mendocino ave. and D street crossed Fourth. There was also a pedestrian bridge across B street, linking the presumed entrance to the mall with Fourth street. Otherwise, traffic flow was completely controlled by roundabouts. The plan further placed an emphasis on preserving and restoring heritage buildings.

The cost for all this would have been $2.7M and during the 1977 presentation, raising that financing didn’t seem to be a worry. Thus: In sum it was a practical and affordable design which would have greatly perked up the old downtown without much disruption (no major realignments of streets or utilities) and might have helped keep the business district competitive, no matter what temptations the future mall might fling at shoppers. The downtown property owners particularly loved the semi-mall and most signed a petition to tax themselves via a special assessment district to help pay for it (the major holdout was the telephone company).

Spoiler alert: Absolutely none of that happened.

While the semi-mall and the rest of the plan remained popular with enthusiastic backing from DDA members, its chances of being built began to slip away with the 1978 passage of Proposition 13, which shut off city funding – it would have died right there, if not for a ray of hope thanks to Santa Rosa getting a windfall $40M due to Pacific Telephone’s expansion. By 1979 the inflation cost was now $3.3M and some merchants had turned into naysayers, griping that closing Fourth street would eliminate about eighty parking spaces in front of their stores. The death sentence came in 1980, when semi-mall came to just mean there would be wider sidewalks because the street was being narrowed to two lanes. Fourth could sometimes be closed for street sales or other special events. And that’s what we still have today.

The Santa Rosa Plaza opened in 1982, and it didn’t take long for downtown merchants to realize they would not be riding its coat tails to prosperity. The city had given the developer everything he demanded and the downtown ended up with less than nothing, given that Railroad Square was now isolated on the wrong side of the Great Wall of B Street.

In 1988 the City Council hired consultants and formed committees “to figure out something to make the downtown a busy, happy place” and the Press Democrat invited five architects to come up with ideas. Some of the plans weren’t very functional (yes, we really needed an underground art gallery) but Joel DeSilva came up with an innovative design that embraced and enhanced Rapp’s meandering Fourth street. As described in the PD, he thought “parks are the way to invite people into the downtown:”


…He starts with a miniature, tree-lined lake at the entrance of the mall on B Street. The lake feeds a creek that meanders the length of Fourth Street (which he closes to traffic) as far as the library on E Street. There are benches and little restaurants with outdoor eating space along the creek. “There has to be something to draw people out of the plaza and down to the rest of downtown. Something impulsive. You see something there and it looks interesting,” DeSilva said.

DeSilva also followed Rapp in placing a walkway over B Street from the Plaza, as well as a covered skywalk overlooking Courthouse Square.

Joel DeSilva's 1988 design for downtown Fourth street, with footbridges over an artificial creek
Joel DeSilva’s 1988 design for downtown Fourth street, with footbridges over an artificial creek

No mention of Fourth street in the 1970s is complete without talking about cruising, which was either innocent fun or a sure sign that Santa Rosa had gone to wrack and ruin. (I polled a few friends who were here back in the day and FWIW all remembered it as the former, and were shocked when I read some of the details reported in the Press Democrat.) But cruising was intertwined with the semi-mall story, and likely was a big part of the reason the design was abandoned.

Cruising began here c. 1963, with the first letter-to-the-ed in the Press Democrat complaining about youths “tooling Fourth street” in 1965. By the end of the decade it was both Friday and Saturday nights, drawing 200-500 kids each evening. The street was so jammed that sometimes only two cars were able to crawl through a green light.

In 1970 the PD ran a titillating series, “Santa Rosa After Dark” (topless go-go girls at the Stone House, “the home of dirty ankle sex in Santa Rosa”!) that described a scene very much like the movie American Graffiti – which would be partially filmed in Petaluma two years later. It was mainly bored kids who said they were there only because there was nothing else to do in Santa Rosa, so why not watch the street-rod parade while hanging out with the gang and guzzling beer. Written by Dick Torkelson, the colorful prose in the series is best read while imagining the voice of Dragnet’s Joe Friday:


…It’s the scene for the raked rears, the big meats, the high springs, the throaty burble of the glass-pack mufflers. It’s where the Chrysler hemis sometimes vie with the Goats as they call the GTO’s. It’s where the Mustang 390’s and the 428’s snort to a lead foot…Occasionally two cars will pull to a stop, the drivers glance across, size each other up and down like two roosters in a pit. The sign changes and one will hit it in low, lay just a blip of rubber, then ease off. Then the other will nip it, down hard, then up. Just a hint of what there is…

Every year the situation grew more concerning. In April 1977 – just three months after Charlie Rapp made the semi-mall presentation to the DDA – the police barricaded downtown Fourth street for the first time. They soon found out that was a mistake: The action just moved to more residential streets, particularly Summerfield Road with the kids hanging out in the Howarth Park parking lot.

That summer there were about 1,800 arrests and citations, most related to alcohol and particularly underage drinking. Also on the police blotter were cruising while drunk, urinating in public, fighting, noise (cruising involved lots’a honking at friends), hurling bottles, graffiti, smashing store windows, possession of illegal weapons (including sawed-off shotguns) and 18 cases of stolen cars. Driving a stolen car in a parade being heavily monitored by cops deserves its own category in the Darwin Awards.

Costs for policing all this were adding up. By the time the police tried closing the street the city was paying an extra $3,000 every weekend (nearly $13k today), mainly in police overtime. The City Council approved hiring three more officers and purchasing a new patrol car. By Thanksgiving of 1977 there were 21 officers on patrol during Friday and Saturday nights to book up to 50 arrests and write 100 citations.

The crackdown also included new city ordinances. A ban on left u-turns on Fourth during cruise nights proved to be a really dumb idea because the cruisers just used residential cross streets to turn around instead. The City Council added a prohibition on “pandemoniac vehicles” (squealing tires, an ordinance still on the books – sideshow haters, take note). At first the Council balked at restricting Friday and Saturday street parking on the downtown blocks of Fourth, but finally enacted a ban on what Police Chief Sal Rosano quipped were “portable beer dispensing machines.”

But nothing seemed to discourage the partying, which used to wind down around midnight but now went on until 2:30. Prevailing wisdom seemed to be that Fourth street cruising would go on forever and probably get worse.

All that was in the air in 1980, when it came time to decide the fate of the semi-mall. Considering a permanent closure of those blocks to traffic must have now seemed like folly – they had seen how that only moved cruising into the neighborhoods. Keeping the street open but squeezing it into two lanes was a classic technique of “traffic calming” which might (hopefully) discourage cruising through downtown. At least, I presume that was their thinking; nothing about the decision-making was reported at the time. Or who knows? Perhaps the hope was that a narrower Fourth street would give downtown more of its pre-1906 earthquake look, matching the ersatz cobblestones that used to rattle your teeth while driving through Courthouse Square.

Downtown Fourth was closed for six months as the work was done, and sure enough, the police fielded more calls about raucous street parties in residential areas. The PD had a later story that some local cruisers went down to Petaluma to check out the parade on Petaluma Boulevard, but the scene felt too alien. “They were all wearing cowboy hats,” a cruiser said.

When Fourth reopened in November, 1981 there were still police barricades on Friday and Saturday nights, but to the surprise of everyone, very few cruisers showed up – cruising “disappeared just entirely when Fourth Street closed for the mall [construction],” Police Captain Sanderson told the PD in March 1982.

What killed off cruising? More than anything else it was video games.

Video arcades and home game consoles were becoming the rage in later 1981 and exploded in popularity in 1982. Seemingly overnight arcades were everywhere; Aladdin’s Castle in the Plaza was the largest with sixty games, but a machine or three could be found in barbershops, hardware stores and coffee shops. Restaurants cleared out mop closets to make room for Frogger and Donkey Kong. The Safeway on Mendocino Ave. not only had a row of arcade games by the bathrooms but shoppers could pick up an Atari and a few game cartridges as well.

Santa Rosa’s history in the 20th century was marked by a long series of unfortunate planning decisions, and abandoning the “meandering semi-mall” is high among them. Yet it makes for an unusual Believe-it-or-Not! question to ponder: Would it have been built if only the final decision was made a year later, or Pac Man came around a year earlier?

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