November 2019 Archives

After I posted my tribute in memory of Bob Gregory, I received an email from his son, Jason Pitcock, who included a copy of the eulogy he wrote for his dad and delivered at his service. What an amazing life he led! Like Bob Gregory's work, Jason's tribute to his father leaves me delighted by a story well told, better informed, and yet wanting to know more about the subject. With Jason's kind permission, I'm republishing it here.

I'm tickled to read that The Sports Buff was a regular haunt of his. It was a sports memorabilia store that was located in the shopping center that stood on the north side of 51st east of Harvard (demolished during I-44 widening). The Sports Buff was where you went to get authentic Major League Baseball caps and other sports fan apparel, as well as books and cards, when there wasn't another store like it in Tulsa. (I've got a Cardinals jacket and hat from The Sports Buff, and I liked to pick up the annual NCAA Football preview. Somewhere I've got the OU media guide with Billy Sims on the cover for his senior year, wishing for a second Heisman Trophy.)

"Dry your pretty eyes / And let me have a smile / Think how it's gonna be / When we're together again..." Lyrics from the musical "Applause." Dad loved Broadway.

Robert Bruce Pitcock, later Bob Gregory, was born in Fort Smith, Arkansas in 1931. He was Bobby to his six siblings, his mother, Leona, his father, Reves, and his stepfather, J.B. The Great Depression hit hard in the early years. But dad and his beloved little sister, Betsy, often reflected, "It was tough on everyone and we always had family. We had each other."

In the early 1940s, dad and older brother, Billy, would take the bus out to Camp Chaffee, a nearby army base, to shine soldiers' boots. One pair got you ten cents. Everything back then was measured in nickels and dimes - hamburgers, cokes, movie tickets. And dad never adjusted for inflation. World War II, an event that imbued his life, was in full swing. A lifelong passion for newspapers was born.

After the war, at the age of seventeen, he enlisted in the U.S. Army. He served between World War II and the Korean War. And his father, Reves, barely averted combat in World War I. He was on a train in 1918 headed to fight in Europe when the Allies and Germany signed the armistice. Dad knew full well that life, as John Cheever wrote, is a "collision of contingencies."

He felt duty-bound to serve. He also knew that joining offered a chance to make his own way in the world. But it wasn't easy. Basic training in the freezing cold. Family thousands of miles away and no trips homes for the holidays. Letters and Western Union telegrams sustained him. He credited army buddies, many from the east coast, with broadening his horizons. Jocko McDermott, Augie Carlino, Russ Sarami, George McReynolds - his band of brothers. Stationed in Alaska, they were purportedly training for ski patrol. But dad, half-joking, would say, "we couldn't have taken Aspen." Always witty and ready with a quip.

In the service, he took an interest in jazz, tried Pabst Blue Ribbon, shot dice, and played cards. After a hot streak one night, he wired most of the winnings to family in Arkansas.

Dad kept a pocket edition of Shakespeare in his army fatigues and studied as duties allowed. He was self-taught. His trademark elocution and diction were the result of diligence, insatiable curiosity, love of language, and a burning desire to excel. A gifted pitcher, he was a star on the baseball team. And in order to rest his arm before starts, the commanding officer exempted him from "KP" duty. A professional baseball scout later expressed interest only to rebuffed, "I'm going to be an actor."

One evening in the barracks, inspired by a radio disk jockey spinning Stan Kenton records, he resolved, "that's what I'm going to do." And man, did he do it. His persistence won over doubters. Told repeatedly by a station manager back in Fort Smith that no positions were available, dad sought permission simply to observe, without pay. The manager relented and for the next six months, aged nineteen, he showed up every day, watched, waited. Finally, he got the job he dreamed of. The deep voice, the cadence, the delivery; dad was a natural.

Several years later, as television was in its infancy, he transitioned to that medium. Telegenic, articulate, hungry, he cut his teeth in Arkansas and Tulsa. His buddies in those days were Gary Chew and Hal Balch. In 1967, one year after he married the love of his life - our beautiful, kind, sweet, selfless mother - his biggest professional break came. It was a pivotal moment. Bill Small, CBS Washington Bureau Chief, called Tulsa. Come on up to the network. Without hesitation, off to the nation's capital they went, baby Kendall, just months old, in tow.

Walter Cronkite anchored the evening news at the time, a tumultuous period in American history. Eric Sevareid, one of Edward R. Murrow's "Boys," was a mentor. Dad worshipped him. Dan Rather, Roger Mudd, and Bruce Morton were among his colleagues.

When Robert F. Kennedy was assassinated, dad received word from headquarters, 2020 M Street in Georgetown. He took an early morning taxi out to Hickory Hill, the Kennedy family compound in McLean, Virginia, to cover the story. Positioned on the lawn, dad was moved that Ethel Kennedy - grieving, distraught widow - brought out coffee and pastries for the press. Crooner Andy Williams was on hand to comfort the clan and donned monogramed slippers.

Dad saw Martin Luther King preach at the National Cathedral two weeks before his assassination. And after King was shot, he was at the White House and delivered the news to President Johnson's aide. Days later, as riots broke out on 14th Street in the Northwest DC, his cameraman was hit in the head by a protestor's bottle and the two fled to safety on a motorcycle. Soon after that he was with LBJ in the Texas hill country. Johnson wielded a pocketknife and tossed freshly sliced peaches to the assembled reporters, alternately fielding questions and telling folksy tales with that heavy drawl.

Dad, an ardent New Deal Democrat, interviewed President Nixon on numerous occasions and maintained that, politics aside, he was among the most charming, engaging men he'd ever met. He would say the same of Ronald Reagan, governor of California when they first crossed paths. There are hundreds more of these stories. Dad relished telling them. He never paused or failed to recall the slightest detail. The man spoke in complete paragraphs of lapidary prose.

Mom, dad, and Kendall left DC in 1970. He remembered the Cherry Blossom trees in full bloom along the Tidal Basin as they headed for Tulsa. They settled in. Scotty was born that year and dad began a 14-year run at KTUL, Channel 8, under James C. Leake. At the time, Leake also owned KATV in Little Rock, where little brother, Jimmy, would become a star. Dad wore it as a badge of honor. "Jimmy built that station," he would boast. It was the same with his older brother, Billy, who anchored at KOTV, Channel 6, in Tulsa. "Everyone loved your uncle. Mr. 10 o'clock."

Bob Gregory's documentaries and special features at KTUL won dozens of awards. The "Oil in Oklahoma" series, and companion book, were a sensation. For that program, he traveled to England to interview J. Paul Getty at his Wormsley Park estate. "I know people say he was a bastard but I found him fascinating," he'd say.

Dad's encounters were legion and legendary. Dinner with Menachem Begin at the King David Hotel in Jerusalem after the Six-Day War; a chat with Washington Post editor Ben Bradlee at the Mark Hopkins Hotel in San Francisco; a few minutes with Steve McQueen in Texas on the set of The Getaway, the Sam Peckinpah film co-starring Ali MacGraw (he'd gone down to interview cowboy actor and Pawhuska native, Ben Johnson); and over the course of just one weekend out in early Las Vegas with Balch, they hit a trifecta: catching a glimpse of Arnold Palmer on the golf course, receiving a warm "hello, boys!" from a tuxedoed Frank Sinatra in the lobby of the Sands Hotel, and watching Dean Martin lay thousands at the blackjack table.

In the 1970s in Tulsa, dad found his way into a loosely assembled quartet of creative camaraderie: Gailard Sartain, the actor and painter; Jay Cronley, the sportswriter and novelist; and Darcy O'Brien, the professor and author, who'd gone to Princeton only because F. Scott Fitzgerald had, and whose parents were Hollywood royalty in 1930s. Is it any wonder, then? They convened over drinks at Cognito Inn, Little Joe's, and the Tulsa Press Club. Lots of laughs, sure, but it wasn't all light banter. They loved books and movies and the art of the conversation. Dad treasured those times and reminisced often.

So many large personalities and famous names. So many momentous occasions and interviews in faraway places. But this was only the more public side of the man.

What we'll cherish most, what we'll miss most, is the lesser-known side. Birmingham Avenue has been home for almost 50 years. He loved it. Growing up, kids in the neighborhood enjoyed dad's many kindnesses. The Saturday runs were a particular treat. Cliff, Jonathan, Stemmons, Bandy, Jay Reed, cousin Marc. We'd load into the burgundy Cadillac and make the rounds: QuikTrip, B. Dalton books, the Sports Buff, Coney Islander. Dad savored every minute.

His bedroom was part-library, part-newsroom, part-shrine; signed photos adorned the walls. Stacks of newspapers and magazines. The seemingly scattered books were in fact organized, his way. At one point, he had three televisions on his desk. One for news, one for sports, and one for Turner Classic Movies. When the sports world was quiet, two were for news. For big occasions, the Oscars or Oklahoma Sooners football, he would join us in the den. There was the favorite lounge chair on the back patio. "I need some color," he'd say on sunny days. New York Times in hand and music playing, always.

I never once heard him say the words, "I'm bored." He found abundant joy in the simple things. He loved rain. "Listen, Jay. Isn't it great?" he'd gush, as the drops began to fall. The colors of the trees. The roaring fireplace in the living room. Homegrown tomatoes from his small garden in the backyard. Taking a photo of a red cardinal perched on a branch at the perfect moment.

In the old days, when he hauled us to Colorado Springs and Santa Fe for summer vacations, he took pictures of us - and of the West - with a Pentax. But after sister Betsy one year sent as a gift a digital camera, he photographed everything in sight. Flash drives replaced rolls of film. Thousands of moments - frozen in time. Family meals usually meant dozens of candid, mid-bite shots, our mouths full of food. He got a real kick out of it. And even as he slowed down, energy flagging, we still took him on drives so he could observe and capture nature.

Trivia contests were a mainstay of family dinners. Featured topics: The Golden Age of Hollywood, literature, history. Subjects he'd long ago mastered. He read avidly and his mind was a vault. Politics, war, biography. He was encyclopedic. A dear friend offered this astute and comforting appraisal: "Your dad, no doubt, lived an incredibly thoughtful and examined life. People are the richer for it."

He was kind. He was gentle. He was funny.

Music was another passion. The Great American Songbook: the Gershwins, Cole Porter, Rodgers and Hart, Lerner and Loewe. He knew songs, lyricists, composers, dates. And, oh how he loved those melodies, especially when interpreted by Sinatra, Tony Bennett, and Nat Cole. And so many movies: film noir, Westerns. Clark Gable, Cary Grant, Gregory Peck.

As the grandkids came along, the difficulty level of his trivia contests decreased. Dad wanted them involved in the fun, so he crafted questions by researching things he cared very little about. And he closely monitored the kids' progress, delighting in their successes.
Dad was effusive in his praise. He was a fierce advocate, an unwavering supporter. His love was unconditional. He was proud of every single thing we did. And he never played favorites.

All was vicarious when it came to family - the pleasure and the pain. The day Scotty's Columbia University acceptance packet arrived, dad was euphoric. His boy was headed to the Ivy League. Kendall's artistic abilities and gifts as a teacher were an immense source of pride. And I think he enjoyed my time working as a lawyer for the US congress in Washington more than I did. We were in touch constantly. Discussing who was testifying on Capitol Hill or sharing thoughts on the news of the day. He liked to know where I was. The Monocle, The Occidental, The Willard Hotel. His old haunts now were mine.

One afternoon when I lived there, I called home, anxious and upset. He could hear it in my voice. "Get on a plane," he said. "You can be home tonight. I am here for you. You're a great kid."

On the morning of the 9-11 attacks, he was on the phone immediately, as Scotty and Kendall were then living in New York. Kendall alleges that dad broke the story before NBC. The preschool staff where my sister taught, in lower Manhattan, hadn't heard the news but assured him that Kendall was safe.

Six years ago, I visited Antietam, a seminal Civil War battlefield. Standing by Burnside Bridge, I called dad. I listened raptly as he recounted troop movements and tactical blunders. He lamented missed Union opportunities. History was alive. It was September 1862 once again.

Dad was fond of quoting, as he did that day, Lincoln's rejoinder to the feckless, tentative George B. McClellan, "If the General doesn't want to use the army, would he mind if I borrowed it for awhile."

Ever the art enthusiast, dad awaited summaries when we visited museums: The Frick Collection, The Met, The National Gallery. He conveyed his tastes and judgments and in so doing cultivated ours.

For my 26th Birthday, he bought us tickets to see Bobby Short, the virtuoso cabaret singer, perform at The Carlyle Hotel on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Scotty, Kendall, mom, and me. "Come on, dad. Come up and join us." "No," he said, "I've had my day, but call me right after and tell me everything. I mean, everything."

A few days before he died, a hospice nurse paid us the dreaded visit. Dad insisted on shaving, put on a Brooks Brothers button down and his New Yorker baseball cap. After a brief exchange, he said to the nurse, "Thank you, madame, you've been a great help, and we appreciate it very much." Dignified, brave, and courteous to the end.

The Roman poet Horace wrote, "I shall not wholly die, and a great of part of me will escape the grave." I know this is true of dad. He was too big of a presence, too brilliant a mind, too loud a laugher, too adoring of his family, too much a lover of life, to ever really die. He lives on in the photographs, the documentaries, the grandkids he treasured, the memories, and all those beautiful words he wrote, private and published.

We remain very proud of his critically acclaimed biography of Cardinals pitcher Dizzy Dean. The Washington Post's Thomas Boswell said of it, "Put 'Diz' on the short list of baseball's best biographies." Fitting, then, to conclude with that book's final paragraph.
Bob Gregory, our mentor, our hero, my best friend, wrote:

"The funeral was held...and a thousand people came. His favorites were there - the hillbilly singers, football coaches, politicians, and businessmen - and from baseball came Ken Smith...Hank Aaron; and Dean's old Gas House teammate...Joe Medwick. Most of the talk was about Dizzy's accomplishments and all the fun he'd had and the laughs he'd brought to others. Nobody, they said, ever loved baseball more. He was buried near a magnolia tree on a slight mound in the center of the...cemetery, and Medwick said, 'Well, that's the ballgame...'"

I think it was in the spring of 1971 that Casa Bonita Mexican restaurant opened in Tulsa. I remember a girl in my 2nd grade class bringing a map and menu to school for show and tell and talking about how pretty it was and the sopapillas and the treasure room. We were all envious. Map nerd that I have always been, I was intrigued at the idea of a restaurant that had its own map.

My first visit to Casa Bonita was the night before my first day ever at Holland Hall School; I started in 3rd Grade in September 1971. Our immediate family went with my grandfather and some other extended family members. I suspect I had the Pony Plate: Beans, rice, cheese enchilada, taco, and sopapillas. Most of the adults had the Deluxe Dinner. I remember seeing the adults eating some green mushy stuff which looked disgusting. Then we went back to our house and had strawberry shortcake. Later that night, I got sick to my stomach and threw up. I thought it was because of the juxtaposition of guacamole and strawberry shortcake, but I suspect it was nerves at the thought of a new school and new classmates. (I threw up the night before 5th grade and 9th grade, too.)

Going through some old papers I came across the map from that first visit. You'll notice that this was before Casa Bonita's expansion to the south, when they added an arcade and the Acapulco Room.

Here's the map (click for full size):

And here's the menu:

Strong Towns is once again using Black Friday to call attention to parking minimums, zoning laws that require a ridiculous amount of land to be set aside for off-street parking.

#BlackFridayParking is a nationwide event drawing attention to the harmful nature of minimum parking requirements.

Parking minimums create a barrier for new local businesses and fill up our cities with empty parking spaces that don't add value to our places.

Each year on Black Friday, one of the biggest shopping days of the year, people all across North America will snap photos of the (hardly full) parking lots in their communities to demonstrate how unnecessary these massive lots are. Participants upload those photos to social media with the hashtag #blackfridayparking.

You can follow the #BlackFridayParking hashtag on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram to see examples of empty parking spaces on the busiest retail shopping day of the year.

RELATED: Back in 2013, Tulsa won a national competition for worst "parking crater" -- the expanse of uninterrupted asphalt in the southern part of downtown. A brief effort to pass an ordinance that would require a review process prior to demolition of buildings in the IDL was killed by developers. I have updated a blog entry about that 2013 anti-demolition effort with details of the TMAPC and City Council meetings and links to agendas, comments, minutes, and meeting video.

Legendary Tulsa television broadcaster Bob Gregory died earlier this month, November 6, 2019, at the age of 88.

As Vice President for News and Special Projects at KTUL, Gregory wrote, directed, and hosted the popular series of "Oil in Oklahoma" television programs, which aired throughout the 1970s and into the 1980s, received much acclaim, and appeared in book form. He created many other award-winning documentary films and television shows focused on Oklahoma history, politics, and culture. Along the way, he trained or mentored a host of Tulsa-area TV journalists.

Longtime Tulsans might recall that Gregory's older brother, Bill Pitcock, was for more than a decade the evening news anchor at KOTV/Channel 6. His two other brothers, Jim Pitcock and Jerry Pitcock, worked in TV and radio in Little Rock. Gregory was the second of seven children.

An avid reader and gifted writer -- and a born storyteller and tireless researcher -- Gregory was largely self-taught as an interviewer, filmmaker, journalist, and author. Throughout his career, he contributed articles, profiles, and book reviews to Oklahoma Monthly, Tulsa Magazine, The Chicago Tribune, and other publications.

Bob Gregory's documentary series Oil in Oklahoma, which aired when I was a pre-teen, was one of several influences that sparked my lifelong interest in Oklahoma history.

The approach of Oil in Oklahoma was similar to that later used by Ken Burns in his historical miniseries: Photos, film, interviews, narration, and an atmospheric soundtrack with a focus on the larger-than-life characters who shaped Oklahoma's early growth, people like Harry Sinclair, E. W. Marland, W. G. Skelly, Thomas Gilcrease, Waite Phillips, Frank Phillips, and J. Paul Getty.

The book Killers of the Flower Moon has brought the Osage oil murders back to public attention, but viewers of Oil in Oklahoma learned from Bob Gregory a half century ago about the Osage Nation, their sudden oil wealth, and the murders of Osage citizens for their headrights. Two images from that episode stuck in my mind: (1) The photo of an Osage family going around town in style, in a sitting room set up in the back of a glass-sided hearse. (2) A clip of a house exploding from the 1959 Jimmy Stewart movie The FBI Story, which includes a fictionalized retelling of the Osage murders among other important early FBI cases.

Unfortunately, the series predated the home video boom by half a decade, so it was never offered for public purchase, nor are there home off-air VCR recordings circulating.

An episode dealing with the Oklahoma City and Seminole oil fields, edited down to a single commercial-free hour and repackaged for OETA, is available online courtesy of the Oklahoma Historical Society. KTUL news anchor Bob Hower, who referred to the program as "Oklahoma December," a monthly magazine program. My recollection is that Oklahoma City and Seminole were at the end of the series, as they were the last of the big oil discoveries in Oklahoma. This will give you a good sense of the style of the series, along with a strong dose of Bob Gregory's rich, warm baritone.

Part 1:

Part 2:

When people over the age of 50 say that local TV really was better in the 1970s, this is the sort of thing we're talking about. (Along with Mr. Zing and Tuffy, Uncle Zeb, Lee Woodward and Lionel, Don Woods and Gusty, and Mazeppa Pompazoidi's Uncanny Film Festival. See tulsatvmemories.com for all the details.) This is what ownership with deep local roots and a commitment to excellence can produce.

About 2 1/2 years ago, on a whim, I reached out to the Leake Auction Company, founded by James C. Leake, Sr., and the successor to the company that owned KTUL when Oil in Oklahoma was aired. I received a reply from Richard Sevenoaks, Mr. Leake's son-in-law and president of Leake Auction, who wrote, "We have the rights and copies of the programs. But we have been unsuccessful finding a broadcast partner to air the series." I wrote back, asking if he might consider releasing the series on DVD, but never got a reply. I provided his contact info to Bill Perry, VP for content production at OETA, with hopes that the two might talk. I haven't heard anything further from either gentleman.

Since those emails, Leake Auction was sold to Ritchie Bros. in 2018, but Richard and Nancy Sevenoaks continued to operate the business until retiring earlier this year. I would suspect that the family retained all the non-automotive assets of the company, like Oil in Oklahoma. Perhaps in retirement, the Sevenoakses could find a way to make Oil in Oklahoma available to a new generation of Oklahomans. It would not only be a wonderful teaching tool for Oklahoma history, but a fitting memorial tribute both to the vision of James C. Leake and to the storytelling gift of Bob Gregory.

MORE: Read Jason Pitcock's tribute to his dad, Bob Gregory, full of fascinating anecdotes about his life and career.

CORRECTION 2023/07/08: Thanks to newly available archives of Tulsa newspapers, I have learned that Oklahoma: December was the original title of an episode of KTUL's monthly "Oklahoma" series which began in 1970 as a monthly anthology of local feature stories. In 1973, it evolved to become hour-long specials about the men, events, and places in Oklahoma's oil history. Here's my tribute to Oil in Oklahoma on its 50th anniversary.

STILL MORE: The Oklahoma Historical Society has two boxes of Bob Gregory's papers, including scripts from Oil in Oklahoma and Oklahoma Diamond Jubilee episodes, research, and interview transcripts. The catalog entry indicates photographs and film/video as well, but these are not itemized.

A press release issued on Tuesday, November 12, 2019, announced the organization of a group to rescue Paul Harvey's childhood neighborhood from demolition for redevelopment under the guise of stormwater management.

Save the Pearl: New Group Formed to Oppose Tulsa Development Authority's Eminent Domain Plans

A community in Tulsa joins together to stop city officials from following through with plans to tear down homes for "urban renewal"

Tulsa, Okla.--Today, residents and supporters of Tulsa's Pearl District announced the formation of a new group, Save the Pearl Coalition. The new group is dedicated to stopping the city and Tulsa Development Authority (TDA) from taking residents' homes against their will for the purpose of redevelopment. While the TDA has publicized the plans as a drainage project to improve public safety, the city's plans show that the Pearl District project is actually meant to make the neighborhood look different by bulldozing existing homes and engaging in redevelopment. Save the Pearl Coalition seeks to protect Pearl District residents and won't stop its campaign against Tulsa's landgrab until the city abandons the use of eminent domain in pursuit of its redevelopment plans.

Tulsa's attempts to force Pearl District residents to sell their homes or else lose their property by force via eminent domain are not just wrong: They're unconstitutional. In May 2006, the Oklahoma Supreme Court held that the Oklahoma Constitution prohibits the use of eminent domain for economic development, giving Oklahomans greater protections from eminent domain abuse.

Rather than respect the limits the Oklahoma Constitution places on its power, the city chose to hand its so-called flood control project to the TDA years ago and it is now being used for one purpose: economic development. Tulsa has left a paper trail over the course of several years that shows that "flood prevention" is merely a pretext for the TDA's redevelopment vision for the Pearl District.

Back in 2010, the Pearl District detention pond project was described in Tulsa's Elm Creek Master Drainage Plan. That document stated that drainage ponds "have tremendous potential to become catalysts that will accelerate the revitalization of the Pearl District and surrounding neighborhoods." In a document from the city from 2018 titled "Final Plans for Elm Creek West Pond," Tulsa makes clear that the purpose of the pond is "to allow for redevelopment and revitalize the Pearl District." And the 2019 Pearl District Small Area Plan concedes that the flood control facilities "were intended to serve as a catalyst for new, large-scale, urban infill development to be produced through public-private partnerships."

In other words, according to Tulsa's own descriptions spanning a decade, this pond is not tailored to address drainage for Tulsa. It is perfectly tailored to help Tulsa and the TDA take over a neighborhood where families are currently living because it wants to redevelop the area.

"We welcome progress to the Pearl District, but not giving up our homes and this neighborhood for others to develop on," said Gabriela Tarvin, whose home is being targeted for the TDA's redevelopment plans. "We as private citizens have put our effort and money into making the dream of having a home in the city come true. And here we are, fighting for our home."

Gaby loves her home because it lets her live near the city. Growing up, she loved that her grandmother lived in Guatemala City, and she always wanted to live in a city herself. Despite the poor condition of the property when she and her husband bought it, they were willing to take a risk to renovate it into a beautiful home because of the tremendous view of the Tulsa skyline. That is now the view from her kitchen window, and she does not want to lose the home in a city that she's always dreamed of.

"My greatest hope is that the city recognizes this plan is unnecessary and has no real energy of its own. If you take a closer look at the city's explanation for why it's doing this, it simply doesn't make sense. We hope the city makes a better choice" said John Dawson, whose home the Tulsa government plans to take through eminent domain.

Save the Pearl Coalition has created a Facebook group, https://www.facebook.com/PearlDistrictTulsa/, to educate and gather support for residents like Gaby and John.

The group is working with the Institute for Justice (IJ), a national public interest, civil liberties law firm dedicated to stopping the abuse of eminent domain. IJ represented Susette Kelo and her neighbors before the U.S. Supreme Court in Kelo v. City of New London and has successfully litigated on behalf of property owners throughout the country. IJ has helped save over 20,000 homes and small businesses from eminent domain abuse through grassroots activism.

"This is an economic redevelopment issue hiding behind a flood mitigation pond in order to give it the veneer of public use," said Chad Reese, an activism policy manager with the Institute for Justice. "The Tulsa city government is offending the Oklahoma Constitution and our intelligence with this plan. Tulsa must abandon it once and for all."

Postdated to remain at the top through the end of the election. Polls are open in the City of Tulsa November 12, 2019, special election from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. The Oklahoma State Election Board's new Oklahoma Voter Portal will tell you where to vote and let you view sample ballots before you go to the polls.

I have no illusions. The election is a classic example of concentrated benefit and diffuse costs. Those who stand to benefit directly from the new taxes on the ballot have strong reasons to give money to the vote yes campaign and to turn out to vote. The cost, although nearly as much as Vision 2025 and over $1500 for every resident of this shrinking city, is divided up among all the property owners and all those who shop in the city limits of Tulsa. There is no organized opposition to the three tax questions.

And yet, I'm hearing from many people that they plan to vote against at least one of the three propositions, for a variety of reasons:

• Because it's daft to invest another $427 million in a financially unsustainable growth paradigm.
• Because, for the first time in the nearly 40-year-history of Tulsa's "Third Penny" sales tax for capital improvements, none of the money will go toward basic infrastructure.
• Because you're outraged that the City of Tulsa would force people from their homes and demolish a historic neighborhood to build a stormwater detention pond to benefit new home construction.
• Because you're generally tired of the City of Tulsa abusing its power of eminent domain and hollowing out our historic urban core in the process.
• Because the current tax expires at the end of June 2021, and the City could have scheduled this vote for the November 2020 mayoral (and presidential) general election, when the turnout would have been much higher, rather than wasting tax dollars on a special election.
• Because the City still doesn't list the election on the cityoftulsa.org calendar of events, or in the city's list of press releases, or anywhere else on the home page, or on the city's Twitter account -- apparently trying to discourage turnout except among those with a vested interest in the tax increases being approved.
• Because you think Mayor G. T. "Selfie" Bynum IV should maybe focus on Tulsa's crime rate and declining population.
• Because you think Mayor Bynum IV should have the guts to defend his tax proposal and record as mayor on the air with a courteous but skeptical radio host like Pat Campbell.
• Because we already gave $65 million to Gilcrease Museum and $25 million to the Tulsa Zoo in the 2016 Vision Tulsa package, and they don't need another $6 million EACH just three years later. (This looks a lot like payola.)
• Because you're tired of Bynum IV & Co. enshrining the deadly religious beliefs of the Sexual Revolution as official City of Tulsa policy.

Nothing wakes up government officials as quickly as depriving them of the money they were expecting to spend.

Click here for just the facts about the tax proposals on today's ballot, including the official legal descriptions of each, and a diagram showing a timeline of City of Tulsa and Tulsa County sales taxes, both permanent and temporary, and how the proposals on the ballot fit into the big picture. And don't miss city planner Brent Isaacs' analysis of the general obligation bond issue for streets from an economic sustainability perspective.

I was on AM 1170 KFAQ with Pat Campbell on Wednesday, November 6, 2019, at 8:05 a.m. to discuss the upcoming City of Tulsa sales tax vote. Click the link to hear the podcast. A couple of callers mentioned the City of Tulsa's declining population: They were correct, and I was wrong. The U. S. Census Bureau's estimate of Tulsa's population peaked at 404,182 in 2016, then declined to 402,119 in 2017 and 400,669 in 2018. Nothing bulldozing a few more neighborhoods won't cure, eh, Mayor Bynum IV?

Also, here is the City of Tulsa's Bond Transparency Act disclosure, as of June 30, 2019, which lists the outstanding principal for each bond issue as of that date ($395,600,000 total) and details bond issues linked to previous elections. Some current bonds will mature this year, others won't mature until 2040, and there is still $160,000,000 authorized but not yet issued from the 2014 Improve Our Tulsa bond package. Add the proposed $427 million to the total and we're at $982.6 million in outstanding and authorized general obligation debt -- nearly a billion dollars. Here is a direct link to the Bond Transparency Act Disclosure on the city's website, linked from the City of Tulsa's capital projects page. And here's the bond document for one specific bond series, City of Tulsa General Obligation Bonds, Series 2014, authorized by the 2013 Improve Our Tulsa vote. You can explore more bond documents on emma.msrb.org.

Next Tuesday, November 12, 2019, voters in the City of Tulsa will be presented with three questions for funding capital improvements through a temporary increases in property tax and sales tax and a permanent sales tax increase for the city's "rainy day fund."

You can be forgiven for not knowing about this election. It has been omitted from the calendar of events that appears on the home page of the official city website:

The home page mentions the Veterans' Day holiday, a parking ticket amnesty, and a surplus property auction. It doesn't mention the election.

The first sheet of the ballot contains a single proposition, which, if approved, would result in a general obligation bond issue to be repaid by an increase in property tax:

PROPOSITION IMPROVE OUR TULSA

(Streets and Transportation Systems
Construction and Repair Bonds)

Shall the City of Tulsa, Oklahoma, incur an indebtedness by issuing its bonds in the sum of Four Hundred Twenty-Seven Million Dollars and No Cents ($427,000,000.00) to provide funds (either with or without state or federal aid) for the purpose of constructing, reconstructing, improving, repairing and/or purchasing streets and transportation systems, as authorized by Article X, Section 27 of the Oklahoma Constitution and the laws of the State of Oklahoma, and levy and collect an annual tax, in addition to all other taxes, upon all taxable property in said City, sufficient to pay the interest on said bonds as it falls due, and also to constitute a sinking fund for the payment of principal of said bonds when due, said bonds to bear interests of not more than the maximum rate permitted by law at the time the bonds are issued, payable semiannually and to become due serially within twenty-five (25) years from their date?

(It's very odd that this proposition has a name instead of a number, while the other two propositions are numbered.)

The second sheet of the ballot contains two numbered propositions, both of which would increase the sales tax:

PROPOSITION NO. 1 SALES TAX PROPOSITION NO. 1

Improve our Tulsa - 2021
Miscellaneous Capital Improvements
Temporary Sales Tax

Do you approve collecting a forty-five one-hundredths of one percent (.45%) temporary sales tax, commencing at the expiration of the 2014 Extended 1.1% Sales Tax, and continuing until June 30, 2025, when it shall become ninety-five one-hundredths of one percent (.95%), and continuing at that rate from July 1, 2025 until either December 31, 2025 or until One Hundred Ninety-Three Million Dollars and No Cents ($193,000,000.00) has been collected, whichever occurs first, at which point it shall expire; to be deposited into a limited-purpose fund; to be used for acquiring, purchasing, constructing, reconstructing, maintaining, repairing and enhancing certain capital improvements, in accordance with Ordinance No. 24180?

PROPOSITION NO. 2
SALES TAX PROPOSITION
NO. 2

2021 Limited-Purpose Economic Stabilization Reserve Permanent Sales Tax (Rainy Day Fund)

Do you approve collecting a permanent sales tax of five one-hundredths of one percent (.05%) commencing at the expiration of the 2014 Extended 1.1% Sales Tax, to provide revenue for the City's Economic Stabilization Reserve, also known as the Rainy Day Fund, pursuant to Tulsa City Charter Article II, Sections 7.4 through 7.9, any amounts collected that would cause total monies in the Economic Stabilization Reserve to exceed thirty percent (30%) of actual total General Fund revenues being allocated to the General Fund Emergency Operating Reserve; any amounts collected that would cause total monies in the General Fund Emergency Operating Reserve to exceed ten percent (10%) of the total General Fund budget being allocated to the General Fund, for maintenance and operation of municipal infrastructure, facilities, and equipment?

Here is the ordinance enacting the new sales tax in Proposition No. 1, officially known as the 2021 Miscellaneous Capital Improvements Temporary Sales Tax, and the "Brown ordinance" spelling out the list of projects to be funded by the new temporary tax. Here is the ordinance enacting the permanent new sales tax in Proposition No. 2. These were all enacted at the July 31, 2019, Tulsa City Council meeting.

The graphic at the top of this entry shows the changes in city and county sales tax rates going back to the beginning of the Improve Our Tulsa tax in 2014 and continuing on to infinity and beyond. You can download a printable copy of the graphic, with a legend and explanatory text, and tax opponents are welcome to make unaltered copies for distribution.