History, politics, people of Oly WA

Category: Olympia history (Page 9 of 10)

The history of the Thurston PUD as the strange center of the private vs. public electricity debate

The story behind why a Public Utility District doesn’t provide electricity in Thurston County touches on some of the most interesting episodes in the debate versus public and private power and in politics in Washington State.

This post is a follow-up to another post where I outline three historic narratives from Chris Stern’s piece about the possibility of the Thurston PUD getting into the electricity business. The uncited content from this piece is drawn from the two books:

The movement to take public the private electric utility in Thurston County has come to a head recently. Now, with the week-long blackouts in some neighborhoods and the rate increase request by Puget Sound Energy putting additional energy into the debate, its important to point out that this isn’t a new debate.

Thurston County has played a strangely central role in the public vs. private power debate in Washington State. And, all things being equal, if the October 27, 1952 vote of the board of Puget Power was the final word, today Thurston County would have been a public power county for decades.

In the early 50s Thurston County was part of a coalition of six PUDs that was making a pitch to take over some Puget Power operations. After years of lobbying to Puget shareholders and raising bond money, Puget’s board finally approved the sale in October 1952. Support from within the company for the sale wasn’t unanimous, so several strategic lawsuits were filed to slow the process.

At the same time, stockholders from Puget were entertaining an offer from Washington Water Power (now known as Avista, headquartered in Spokane) for a merger. While public power advocates had been lobbying for the sale of portions of Puget Power to the PUDs, they opposed the merger with WWP.

Their effort in the spring and summer of 1953 to raise public opposition to the merger drew out several facts about Puget not already known. For example, previous asset sales to other PUDs (such as Seattle City Light) had increased Puget’s cash reserves to the point that a merger with WWP would favor the Spokane company’s stockholders.

It was the full-tilt opposition from public power advocates that drew this fact out, and that without the pro-public opponents, the lopsided nature of the Puget WWP merger wouldn’t have come to the surface. So, after state authorities approved the merger and the case advanced to the federal level, the Puget Board staged a reversal on all fronts.

From “People, Politics and Public Power,” by Ken Billington:

…the Puget Power Board, meeting on November 12, voted not to extend acceptance of the merger beyond November 19 (killing it in effect). Simultaneously, the Board withdrew its approval for the PUD purchase of Puget Power properties. In effect, the opponents of the merger, who had fought so hard arousing public support for Puget Power to block the merger and avoid a statewide private power monopoly, had provide a new lease on life for Puget Power.

In effect public power had won the battle against the proposed merger, but was about to lose the war on securing the remaining Puget Power properties. 

The course change by Puget Power’s board ended the coalition’s charge at making several counties (including Thurston) public power counties. But, that failure didn’t end the interest in Thurston County for public power.

In 1960, the Thurston PUD board changed composition to the point that condemnation of Puget Power properties seemed likely. Puget Power’s response took the shape of a private energy interest group called “We Want to Vote on PUD.” This effort kicked off what historians call “the single most significant event” in the history of the Washington State legislature.

In response to the Thurston PUD’s move to get into the electricity business, pro-private power legislators introduced a bill that would require a public vote before a PUD took over a private utility. Public power advocates objected because of several “heads I win, tales you lose” provisions in the bill. When the bill came up for a vote, what resulted was a fiery four-day debate which included the participation of almost two-thirds of the state house, hundreds of amendments and 45 roll call votes.

From “Slade Gorton: Half a Century in Politics,” by John Hughes:

In the course of four tedious days, the members were locked in their chambers “under call,” hour after hour, as opponents resorted to every form of parliamentary jujitsu in in the book and some holds no one ever expected.

Finally on the fourth day, pro-public power legislators turned some Republicans (who as a minority party supported the bill) from public power counties against the bill. It was sent back to committee where it was holed up for good.

While the debate itself was intense and worth noting, its after effects are much more interesting. For the pro-public power speaker, John O’Brien, the injuries suffered during the debate were too much to take, and he lost the speakership two years later.

The most notable long term impact was the rise of the “Dan Evans Republican” in Washington. Again from Hughes:

The session’s real legacy was the festering resentment that led to the game-changing insurrection in 1963. Evans believes the seeds of his victory in the 1964 governor’s race were sown during the debate over HB 197. So, too, Gorton’s rise to majority leader and beyond. O’Brien’s days as speaker were numbered. His biographer would describe him as a “martyr” to the cause of public power.

So, because the public vote bill died in the 1961 legislature, it was still possible with two pro-public power PUD commissioners for Thurston County to sever ties with Puget Power. That possibility literally died when commissioner John McGuire passed away soon after the debate on HB 197 ended.

That set up a battle between the remaining two commissioners, one pro-public, one pro-private, to name a third. They sat deadlocked for almost a year until the other pro-public commissioner resigned in early 1962. That allowed the last remaining and pro-private commissioner, Vic Francis, to call a special election.

In the end, two pro-private candidates topped two pro-public candidates. Again from Billington:

Two candidates supported by Puget Power ran on a platform which said that they would not acquire Puget Power properties in the county without submitting the matter to a vote of local residents… It was once again a case where the candidates favoring the public power seemed to have substantial funds for the campaign, while their opponents more or less passed the hat.

But, Billington points out, no matter what happened, Puget could have won out:

It is possible that had McGuire lived, he and Thompson could have initiated condemnation action in 1961, but based on past experience, it is reasonable to belive that Puget Power could have delayed the suit in the courts until after the November 1962 Commissioner’s race.

At least three historic narratives out there on the Thurston County public power debate

Chris Stearn’s piece on why we should consider a public power utility included references to at least three historic episodes when we did consider it before.

First:

It first came about with the formation of our own public utility district (PUD) in 1938. The long period of court battles that ensued failed to bring the PUD into the electrical business.

Second:

Several more attempts were made up to the early 1960’s when one of two supportive commissioners died suddenly, leaving the other hopelessly deadlocked with the third commissioner. Future elected commissioners later overturned the entire effort.

Third:

During our PUD’s first 23 years the issue went before the Federal Court and involved several other county PUDs’ attempt to take over Puget Power as well as another private utility. The last eruption 50 years ago even sparked a highly polarized dramatic debate in the state Capitol and led to the removal of the pro-public power and long time Speaker of the House, John L. O’Brien by defections from within his own Democratic Party.

The third episode sounds very familiar to me, I’m pretty sure it was referenced in chapter 5 of the recent Slade Gorton biography. I’m hoping that “People, politics & public power” has some answers.

But, we did build the Hotel Olympia

A couple of months ago, I ironically pointed out the Wenatchee’s bad policy process was something Olympia avoided almost ten years ago now.

The Hotel Olympia, from the UW Library.

But, if we go back over 120 years to right about the time of statehood when the city was desperately trying to hold onto the capitol, we see a much different decision from Olympians.

Not only did we build that thing (in this case, the Hotel Olympia) but we avoided using public money. Over 70 percent of the cost of the hotel (over $2.5 million today) came from local investors in the Olympia Hotel Corporation. The other 30 percent came from a loan taken out by the corporation.

From Rogues, Buffoons and Statesmen:

Another short coming of the hopeful state capital was correct in a much grander manner. For years the legislators had been complaining that Olympia didn’t have a really first class hotel. Most of them took the cheapest available quarters in third-rate rooming houses and private homes…

The shortcoming’s of Olympia (and Thurston County) of not having a true conference center was, if I recall correctly, one of the driving arguments in 2003, and again recently.

The hotel was located just south of today’s Governor Hotel on Capitol Way between 7th and 8th, with its back up to the old Deschutes waterway (or Deschutes River estuary) which had not been filled in yet.

And, not unlike Wenatchee’s Toyota Center, the Hotel Olympia, quickly fell upon hard times. According to Newell in Rogues (again) by 1894 the city forgave the hotel its tax burden in order for it to stay afloat. A year later, the mortgage on the last 30 percent came due and the Olympia Hotel Corporation went bankrupt, closing the hotel’s doors.

At this point, city officials went hat in hand (Wenatchee style) to the governor. In the case of 1890s, Olympia’s city leaders didn’t want a straight bailout, but rather a jump start of the local economy by finishing the incomplete Flagg capitol.

The old south South Capitol neigborhood (the corner of Capitol Way and Capitol Boulevard)

As you go down Capitol Way, before it turns slightly to the left into Tumwater is renamed Capitol Boulevard, it almost seems like it could continue straight. That little spur of a very wide street is actually a continuation of Capitol Way. It continues for just over a block and then just stops.

I’ve wondered why that road was as wide and significant seeming as the main drag, if it just served a few homes and ended. It was possible that at one point, that had been the main drag.

Here’s the intersection I’m talking about:


View Larger Map

In the 1930s, the Capitol Way to Tumwater route was significantly different. In the Sanborn Map below (via TRL) you can see how the old neighborhood was configured, with one of the numbered cross streets jogging over further south and connecting with Tumwater.

Here you can see it in greater detail with the current arrangement.

While it doesn’t specifically address the alignment change, this document from the city includes a pretty interesting history of the street.

Why do we still call it Thurston County?

It was early 1852 and the legislature of the Oregon Territory was meeting. One of the topics being discussed was the creation of new counties. Over 50 delegates had signed a petition for the creation of a new county on Puget Sound including much of what is now the urban core of the region. There was agreement all around that the new county north of the Columbia should be created, but there was dissent from one corner.

The disagreement came from the man for whom the county was supposed to be named, Mike Simmons.

Apparently the honor was too big for Michael Troutman Simmons, or “Big Mike,” an early American settler of the Puget Sound region. And, in the early days, there was no likelier living candidate for a county to be named after. Despite being “unlettered,” he was “generally liked,” well known and influential. He led one of the early wagon trains into Puget Sound, but when it came to naming the first Puget Sound county after himself, he demurred.

With the delegates north of the Columbia set on Simmons, the rest of the Oregon legislature chose to honor recently deceased Samuel Thurston, the territory’s first delegate to Congress. Between Simmons and Thurston, you probably could not have found too more dissimilar candidates.

Here are the contrasts:

Book learning: Simmons wasn’t, Thurston was a lawyer.

Attitudes about race: Simmons helped George W. Bush find a foothold north of the Columbia, Thurston inspired and helped write Oregon’s racist exclusion laws:

In 1850 Thurston also lobbied the territorial legislature to discriminate against free blacks, of whom few had already traveled to Oregon. Playing to the racial fears aroused during the Seminole Wars in Florida, he wrote legislators that allowing free blacks into Oregon would be “a question of life or death to us.” As runaway slaves had done after seeking refuge with the Seminoles living in the Floridian swamps, free blacks migrating to Oregon would “associate with the Indians and intermarry … there would a relationship spring up between them and the different tribes, and a mixed race would ensure inimical to the whites … and long bloody wars would be the fruits of the co-mingling of the races.”

How’s that law degree working for you, Sam?

Attitudes towards the British: Simmons benefited from the the kindness of the chief factor of Fort Nisqually, while Thurston tried to cheat British settlers:

Section 11 of the Land Claim Act was a vendetta against former Hudson’s Bay agent Dr. John McLoughlin, and sought to deny him a land claim in Oregon City.  Methodists wished to build a mission and settlements on the same property and by the time Thurston arrived in Oregon, the dispute was intense. Siding with the Methodists, Thurston falsely testified to the United States Supreme Court, discrediting McLoughlin on the basis of citizenship. He further accused McLoughlin of repeatedly trying to stop territorial development and personally profiting from land sales. John McLoughlin was now an old man and Oregon had been his home for many years. He had retired from the Hudson’s Bay Company and applied for U.S. citizenship. The Donation Land Claim Act of 1850 held that McLoughlin’s claimed property at Oregon City be given to the state legislature.

By the way, while lots of places claim Thurston perjured himself in front of THE Supreme Court of the United States to hurt McLoughlin, I haven’t found any actual evidence of this. In his journal during the time he was in Washington D.C. as a delegate he never mentions appearing before or communicating with the Supreme Court or any federal court.

Also, in the years he was in Oregon, the U.S. Supreme Court didn’t hear any cases out of the Oregon Territory. Its more likely Thurston perjured himself in front of the territorial court, which is federal court and is still a bad thing.
Ironically, if north of the river delegates had held off for a year or so, we might not be saddled with Thurston County right now. The summer before the creation of Thurston County, agitation for the “Columbia Territory” began with a July 4 speech in Olympia. That eventually led to a convention at Cowlitz in the late summer of 1851, where the creation of counties north of the river was also proposed.

It took one more convention in November 1852 and an act of Congress in early 1853 before the new territory was created. A similar naming change happened at the territorial level as well, with the residents requesting Columbia, but with Congress replacing it with Washington. No word if the Columbia River itself disputed the honor.

Its important to note that in the creation of the new territory the folks from Puget Sound showed the important differences between themselves and their “Willamette masters.” They delegates of the new territory early on rejected the racist laws Thurston himself put into place. A law proposing the exclusion of  “Negroes and Indians” from voting was rejected overwhelmingly.


So, this gets back to my original point: Samuel Thurston is (in my opinion) not a worthy candidate for the name of our county. More over, we should go back to the original idea and name the county after Michael Simmons.

Three basic reasons why:

  • Thurston was a liar and a racist. Mike Simmons was not
  • Simmons is now dead too. So, like Thurston at the time, he is unable to reject the honor.
  • Also, Oregon can’t tell us what to do anymore. So there, we’ll name it whatever we want.
This renaming Thurston County thing isn’t at all new, as George Blankenship put out in 1923 that we should change the honor to McLoughlin’s. 
I’m not that sold on McLoughlin, but I would entertain other entries. For example, I like the idea of a Quiemuth County or taking Mason County’s original name of Sahewamish County.

We never built the Capital Area Arts and Conference Center

I’m actually surprised by how similar Wenatchee and Olympia are. Wenatchee is smaller than Olympia (31k to 46k), but in metro area sizes, they’re about the same (+100k).

There is one significant difference. When Olympia decided against a supposed costly plan for a conference center back in 2003/04, Wenatchee went ahead with their events center, which now can’t pay for itself.

The situation going on now in Wenatchee is surprisingly similar to the stories of future horror and woe from 2003 when Olympia (and the rest of the area) was considering what to do with our very own Public Facilities District. Back then, Olympia was pushing for a “Capital Area Arts and Conference Center,” which eventually became the center point of that year’s city elections.

I remember making phone calls for a couple of city council candidates that fall. Most people would get off the phone with me as soon as they found out the candidates’ stand on the conference center.

Phyllis Booth from 2003:

What’s wrong with a conference/arts center? Doesn’t Olympia need meeting space? Won’t the conference/arts center bring in needed business downtown and thus more tax revenue? Yes and no. As with any project, you have to look at the costs versus the benefits. Three expensive studies done in 1998, 2000, and 2003 by the City of the Olympia concluded a conference center will be a net loss or in my words “money pit.” Furthermore, Richard Cushing, Olympia City manager, has written that the city’s revenues are not keeping pace with the city’s growth. He states that in order for the City to have a conference center that they have to determine what is a priority and to make financial decisions based on that priority. City officials have indicated that the conference/arts center will be paid for by funds that are now funding Procession of the Species, the Children’s Museum, the Bigelow House, the Olympia Film society and other worthy non-profits.

If Olympia had gone forward with a conference center in 2003, would we now be asking for a Wenatchee-like bailout (setting up a metonymic showdown)?

One of my favorite episodes from that year’s campaign was the opponents of the center standing in the back of the room during a day-time city council debate holding signs. On the signs were number like 90 or 85, indicating the percentage of each candidate’s neighbors that were against the convention center.

The Capitol Area did eventually build some projects with our public facility district, but it was the less audacious Regional Athletic Center and the Hands On Children Museum.

Occupy Little Hollywood

Another look back at the historic space being occupied in time and theme by Occupy Olympia, given the commentary by Ken Balsley and the news this morning.

Ken acknowledges the historic parallels between the Occupy camp and Little Hollywood, and even gives a short history of the end of the shack-town:

Some 80 years ago, Capitol Lake was the home to a similar type of resident. Shanties and shacks lined the shores of lower Budd Inlet, as the area now known as Capitol Lake was called. These hovels were known by the collective name of “Little Hollywood”. For years those living in the area were allowed to exist, but eventually, authorities moved in moved out the residents and burned down the shacks.

His history doesn’t contradict the closer details, but his telling is a bit more tame than histories written closer to the closure of Little Hollywood. From “Rogues, Buffoons and Statesmen” by Gordon Newell:

It was felt, unless the outbreak of war interfered, the long discussed Capitol Lake would soon become a reality and the city father decided, as a preliminary step, to eliminate Little Hollywood from the shores of the Deschutes waterway along the Northern Pacific railyard.

The capture of two kidnapper-rapists of the town’s last sensational crime in one of Little Hollywood’s shacks had given the place a bad name and it was undeniably a civic eyesore. The residents were, in fact, mostly decent poor and elderly people trying to hold onto the last of their independence. Most had bough their shoreside shacks and floathouses from previous owners from $10 to $50. There were about 50 WPA families, 30 old age pensioners and a few direct welfare recipients. some of the more able bodied supported themselves with odd jobs and scavenging. One resident was said to be a formerly prosperous farmer who had lost everything except $50 in the depression. He had spent his remaining fortune on the floathouse he occupied.

The city had been offered federal funds to provide low-cost housing, but Mayor Trullinger didn’t believe in federal handouts. Besides, low rent housing might bring an undesirable class to town… the kind who had the bad tase and judgement to be aged, handicapped, poor or some color other than pure white.

The people of Little Hollywood were served eviction notices and the civic authorities turned a deaf ear to their please for someplace to go. One after another, the shack-town and its occupant surrendered and went away… some to rundown rooming houses, and fleabag hotels, some to other towns. A few of the old age pensioners moved to a modernized version of the old fashioned poor farm which was appearing on the Northwest scene. First euphemistically called “havens for old folks,” they later became “nursing homes.” The proprietors of some of them, then as now, adopted the adage of the poor farm supervisors… “The less you feed ’em the better the profit.”

One after another the shacks and floathouses were burned or demolished and a civic eyesore vanished and was forgotten… just like the people who had been driven from it.

It was listed as one of the proudest accomplishments of Mayor Trullinger’s administration.

From Dean Shacklett’s “Little Hollywood Era In Olympia Recalled”:

…city officials who barely had tolerated Little Hollywood during the worst depression years decided in 1938 that the shacks had to go. The sizable job of carrying out that order was given to W.R. Turner, building inspector.

Turner enlisted the aid of Beale Messinger, city police lieutenant at the time, and the two set to work. First, the ownership of each of the shanties was determined. This was no small job in itself. Then, each of the owners was served with condemnation papers.

As Little Hollywood’s residents were evicted, their shacks were burned. Two years after Turner and Lieutenant Messinger started their chore, the torch was applied to the last shanty.

As Turner recalls, “Some of Little Hollywood’s residents were pretty nice people, but most of them were bums.”

The condemnation proceedings were carried out with a minimum of fuss and fury, the building inspector remembers. “There was one guy who let me inside his shack and then took a swing at me with a two-by-four,” said Turner, “but that only happened once.”

Couple of more points to make, this time with some old aerial photos from USGS’s Earth Explorer.

One, while everyone points out that Little Hollywood was ironically located below the capitol campus, even if the shacktown didn’t exist, the land below the dome would’ve still been unsightly to some. In fact, Little Hollywood likely owed its existence to the location of railyard that Newell refers to.

In this aerial from 1941, you can see fairly well how the railyard lays in between the settlement and Olympia proper.

So, while Little Hollywood itself might have been seen as a civic eyesore, it was the industrial use of the Deschutes waterway and poverty in general that put it where it was. Is it any wonder that the real modern version of Little Hollywood has been moved permanently to an industrial park? Even as late at 1957, we see Capitol Lake, lakeside industrial buildings and a fully functional rail yard.

It wasn’t until 1964 that any sort of park was built on Capitol Lake, and when it was, it only occupied a small corner.

Occupy Olympia, Little Hollywood and 1933 at Priest Point

Little Hollywood in the late 1930s (from here) overlaid with Occupy Olympia (from here). Click on image for larger version:

Since Occupy Olympia moved down to Heritage Park, I’ve been reminded about how fitting the location is for them. Before Capitol Lake, that particular place was home to Little Hollywood, Olympia’s depression era shacktown. It was probably the most visible evidence of the Great Depression in town.

Slog also reminded me of the 1933 Hunger March, an important event in Olympia history. It should be remembered at least for the violence brought down upon the marchers by locals:

In March of 1933 several demonstrators from Seattle organized a march in which they demanded food relief for the unemployed. Once the marchers reached East bay Drive they were met by the police and vigilantes calling themselves the American vigilantes. Both the vigilantes and the police surrounded the marchers pushing them back to Priest Point Park. Once the marchers were in the park their attackers used broom handles to beat the marchers into ending their march. The attacker’s actions made sure the second march never reached the Capitol Building. All though the second march failed to generate legal changes the march altered the way history is told.

Little Hollywood and the Hunger Marches of 1933 are two important aspects of Olympia’s past that is commonly misrepresented. The Thurston County website claims that the Hunger March of 1933 was a protest of 5,000 out-of-work men who threatened to take over the Capitol building and according to the Daily Olympian “terrorize the town.” Sheriff Havens and his Deputies meet the unruly group with a cadre of deputized citizens.

There is no mention of the corralling of the marchers nor is there any evidence that the protestors aimed to be violent. This is the accepted history of Thurston County, not the accepted history of many historians. The importance of Olympia’s past is not being represented and we must not let those who suffered be forgotten. As a lifelong resident my call to action is clear. I must not only tell Olympia’s past but I must urge others in supporting a historical revolution.

Making up for history

Tacoma expelled Chinese residents in 1885, so Tacoma dedicates a park and a Ting:

“This has been a long, long time in coming,” said Gregory Youtz, who chairs the Tacoma-Fuzhou Sister City Committee and emceed the event. “We hope this helps Tacoma tell its story to the world.”

“This will become an icon in the community,” project manager Lihuang Wung said. “This is where people can get together, get married, think about our history and think about the future of our community.”

Lewis and Clark stole a canoe, so the decedents of Captain William Clark gave one back:

More than 200 years later, William Clark’s descendants will make amends by presenting a 36-foot replica of the canoe to the Chinook Indian Nation during a ceremony here Saturday.

“We talked about what happened 205 years ago, and we believed that things could be restored if something like this were done,” said Carlota Clark Holton of St. Louis, Mo., seven generations removed from William Clark.

“I think everyone acknowledges that it was wrong, and we wanted to right a wrong,” she said. “The family was very much behind it.”

And, of course, we put Leschi on trial again and exonerated him:

The reason it is so important to exonerate Chief Leschi is for the multiple generations of tribal ancestors who have lived a lifetime with the frustration and anger of knowing what happened to the last Chief of Nisqually.

I like this idea of returning to history, pulling back how the people came before us acted, and attempting to recognize and repair. Its a short-sighted point of view to say that none of us alive today were responsible for expelling the Chinese, stealing a canoe or killing Leschi, so why should we go through the process of honoring the better choices our ancestors could have made?

We do because history matters and its worth pointing out in a very deliberate (a ceremony or historic trial) and long lasting (a park) manner that something bad happened and we’d like not to repeat it.

That said, Olympia has some very dark acts near our founding that we should deal with. Olympia in the 1850s wasn’t a very nice place at all:

Also worth noting is that Thurston County was named for a person who once said this:

[It] is a question of life or death to us in Oregon. The negroes associate with the Indians and intermarry, and, if their free ingress is encouraged or allowed, there would a relationship spring up between them and the different tribes, and a mixed race would ensure inimical to the whites; and the Indians being led on by the negro who is better acquainted with the customs, language, and manners of the whites, than the Indian, these savages would become much more formidable than they otherwise would, and long bloody wars would be the fruits of the comingling of the races. It is the principle of self preservation that justifies the actions of the Oregon legislature.

King County changed its name to elegantly avoid being named for a historic racist, might be worth an effort in Olympia.

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