Isaac Laquedem

The Laquedem Made In Oregon Landmark Sign and Lottery Plan

I don't remember when the "Made In Oregon" sign in downtown Portland advertised White Satin Sugar (here's an image of it that the University of Oregon found), but it was then a plain outline of the state with a White Satin logo in the center.  The building beneath later became the property of Hirsch-Weis Co., an old-line manufacturer of work clothing and ship sails that started a line of skiwear in 1930, which it called "White Stag," the translation of the company's name.  Under the leadership of Harold S. Hirsch (1907-1990), a jovial Oregonian who brought back the idea from his years on the Dartmouth ski team in the 1920s, the White Stag line of skiwear grew to be the largest part of the company.  The company changed its name to White Stag in 1956.  When it bought the building, it added a white stag to the sign (it's still there today) and changed the text to read "White Stag," in the font that it used to label its clothing.  Here are photos of the White Stag sign and the sign as it is now.

After White Stag was sold to a conglomerate, the building became the property of the Naito family, owners of the Made in Oregon retail stores, who changed the sign text to "Made In Oregon" and the footer from "Sportswear" to "Old Town."  The University of Oregon now owns the building.  It very reasonably doesn't want to pay to advertise the Naitos' stores, and wants to put its own text on the sign.  The hitch is that the sign is a designated landmark, and can't be changed without the City's approval.  The City won't approve.  The University also doesn't want to pay the cost of lighting the sign unless the sign advertises the university, so it's gone dark.

Ramsay Signs, the company that owns the sign itself, proposes to solve the conundrum by taking the sign down.  That would be a shame.  That, combined with the City's reputation for being anti-business (something that part of the city council would like to change), led me to the Laquedem Made In Oregon Landmark Sign and Lottery Plan.

I recall reading that the sign costs about $20,000/year to maintain.  I don't know what it costs to light it up, so I'll guess that it's another $20,000.  That's $40,000/year.  Let's imagine that ten civic-minded businesses with significant operations in Portland would each pay $5,000 toward the cost to maintain and light the sign, and commit to do that for ten years -- or just pay $50,000 each up front.  That covers the cost to maintain and light the sign for ten years.

Each year, a lottery selects one of the businesses to be on the sign for the year.  At the end of 10 years, each business has had one year of being the icon in front of downtown Portland, inexpensive publicity for the $50,000 it would cost.  A plaque near the building would honor all ten donors.  The surplus covers the cost to rework the sign each year with the name of the lucky winner.  The City's part is to approve all ten designs at once through design review, so that the civic-minded businesses don't have to slog through Portland's land use process every year simply to update the sign.

Not every business would be able to buy a Laquedem Light-It-Up Lottery ticket.  To qualify, a business must have its headquarters within the City of Portland, be a for-profit enterprise (this prevents Duck boosters from buying all ten tickets), and employ at least X people within the city limits (perhaps 50).  If the tickets could be sold for more than $5000/year, some of the surplus would go to the University of Oregon for tolerating the sign on its rooftop.  If the tickets sell for less, the City would kick in the deficit and proudly point to its subsidy as evidence that it's open for business.

One variation on this would be for the City to pay the cost of the sign, and offer it free of charge for one year to any business that moves its head office to Portland with at least 100 workers, or opens a factory or office in Portland with at least 100 workers, as a sort of thank you for coming to Portland.  In years without new businesses, the City could draw lots and give the year's worth of advertising to an existing business that's been here for X years or more.  That's promoting business, in grand style.

Metro and the convention center people could learn from Western Airlines

Once upon a time the federal government regulated the price of air travel.  Airlines had to file their rates with the Civil Aeronautics Board and show that their proposed fares were high enough to earn a profit.  It was hard to lose money in the airline business, because there was little price competition.  Airlines could, however, compete on schedule, service, and comfort.

Western Airlines, a carrier based in Los Angeles with the cheerful slogan "The o-o-o-only way to fly!", tested the limits of CAB regulation by offering free champagne to every adult passenger, differentiating itself from its competitors and elevating its image to the traveling public.  Its competitors complained, but they quickly figured out that although they couldn't compete on price (the CAB did not start to lose its ratemaking authority until 1978), they could compete on freebies.  Soon everyone was offering something extra: alcohol, playing cards, maps, junior pilot wings, and so on.

Western's champagne came to mind today when I read something about the ongoing battle over whether the public should subsidize a hotel across the street from the convention center.  The argument went like this: we needed to expand the convention center because other cities were expanding their convention centers.  We need a headquarters hotel because other cities have headquarters hotels.  We need X because other cities are building X. 

The result is that after all the cities have expanded their convention centers and built headquarters hotels, they are all in the same place, relative to each other, as they were to begin with.  It's a zero-sum game.  Building more hotels in 200 convention destinations doesn't create more conventions, and it shuffles them only slightly from city to city.  Like Western and the champagne, if one offers it, then the others have to offer something to, resulting in everyone spending more money but no one getting more business.

Here's a method of analysis I'd suggest to the convention center boosters:  Identify the 100 most significant convention cities in the United States.  Rank Portland as honestly as possible on that list.  Now assume that Portland has a convention center hotel of 600 rooms.  How many places up the list does Portland move?  If the answer is smaller than 10, then the hotel will be a waste of the public's money.

An examination in economics for the Portland City Council

On which did the government of the City of Portland work harder and spend more time and money: (a) helping Merritt Paulson move the soccer franchise from one soccer league to another, or (b) persuading Columbia Sportswear to retain its corporate headquarters in the city?

Extra credit question: How many persons will the promoted Portland Timbers employ within the City, net of the jobs lost when the Portland Beavers fold or move away?  How many persons would Columbia Sportswear have employed within the City if the company had not moved to Beaverton when it couldn't get straight answers from the Portland zoning people?  Compare these two numbers with the respective efforts put forth by the City, and explain any difference.

Next year's street petition?

I doubt that anyone who lives or works on 39th Avenue is in the mood to start planning a petition drive for next year, but if I read Title 17 of the Portland City Code correctly, starting a year from now, they could petition to rename the street after some other famous person who has been deceased for at least five years.  They can't petition to change the name back to 39th, because the code allows citizens to petition to rename streets only after deceased famous persons.  I can't think of any famous person whose last name is "Thirty-Ninth" but it would be amusing to see the City Council grapple, in the fall of 2010, with a petition to rename Cesar Chavez Boulevard after, say, Mildred Schwab.

$150,000 for street signs instead of the Sellwood Bridge

http://www.portlandtribune.com/news/story.php?story_id=124707725036954200

How to pay the high cost of renaming a street

One depressing thing about Portland's city council is that not one member is willing to say in public -- maybe not one member believes it -- that it's a waste of the city's time and money to fiddle around with street renamings, and that he or she will therefore vote against any street renaming, period.  The cost to the city treasury of the current project, if it passes today, is roughly comparable to the cost of having a sixth city commissioner. 

Hmmm . . . maybe the answer is that for every street renaming, the city council must vote one of its members off the island for a year.

Another goal for the folks who issue building permits

Having directed my attention to Portland's Bureau of Development Services, I'd like to suggest as a performance standard for the Bureau something like this, with the numbers subject to adjustment:  BDS will set and achieve the goal of issuing 95% of permits to build or remodel a single-family home within one business day after the application is submitted and complete, and will set and achieve a similar goal of issuing 95% of permits to build small commercial and multi-family structures in areas not subject to design review within five business days after the application is submitted and complete.

Each dollar spent shows what the Councilors think is important

I'd like to carry my previous thought farther.  The Council, when it debates whether to rename 39th Avenue after Cesar Chavez at a cost to the City of $150,000, should not be asking itself whether Mr. Chavez's memory is worthy of some commemoration, nor even whether his thin connections to Portland merit the Council honoring him, rather than another prominent labor leader, with a street.  (I answer the first part of this question affirmatively, but not the second.)

Rather, the Council should be discussing whether this is the best use of $150,000 that it can think of.

SImilarly, when it comes time to vote on turning PGE Park into a soccer field and building a replacement baseball field in some other location, apparently to be chosen by the Flying Dutchman, the question is not whether the City should subsidize a soccer field and a baseball field, but whether helping to pay for two sports fields is the best use of $40 million (or whatever higher number the City's contribution, calculated according to generally accepted accounting principles, actually is).  The issue is not soccer or no soccer, but $40 million here or $40 million there.  It would be nice to hear any of the councilors grasp that principle of budgetary prudence.

A modest reason not to rename a $treet

The news that the City of Portland is cutting 90 jobs from the Bureau of Development Services because fee income isn't adequate to pay the cost of running the department is protective cover that the Council can use, if it chooses to, to reject the proposal to rename 39th Avenue, because in rejecting the proposal, the Council also rejects spending $150,000 of scarce cash (about equal to the cost of one mid-level employee, including fringes and PERS, for two years) for no tangible public benefit.

Sam Adams is introduced by his former opponent, with one extra word included

Portland is a small town, and political Portland is even smaller.  At the annual dinner of the Japan-America Society of Oregon, held last night at the Benson Hotel, the master of ceremonies was Sho Dozono, who ran unsuccessfully for mayor last year.  Among his tasks was to introduce the head table to the dinner guests, including, at one end of the table, the man who beat him in the election, Sam Adams.  Mr. Dozono handled his introductory duties with distinction, though an eyebrow or two went up when he introduced Mr. Adams, barely stressing the word, as "our current mayor."