Wartime and Postwar Industrial Decentralization in Selected Western Cities
Each investment became “infrastructure’ for future innovation and investment. Perhaps the key to it all was hard sustained commitment to the strategy and a local consensus to do what it takes, as long as it takes to make it work. That commitment certainly was made by San Diego and Los Angeles, and by other cities like Houston, San Antonio and even Colorado Springs, and Hattiesburg Alabama. Lotchin cites a goodly number of other metro competitors who have also embraced this strategy—most of which are Sunbelt (exceptions include Hartford CT, Springfield MA, Bath ME, Rock Island and Quad City IL (Lotchin, Fortress California, 1992, p. 353). Victory was not automatic. North Dakota and Wyoming failed, despite, for example, North Dakota’s setting up a business organization, the North Dakota War Resources Committee, and a pure business-led group, the Greater North Dakota Association which hired a full-time lobbyist and schedule regular meetings and tours with military decision-makers. On the other hand, Nevada’s Senator McCarran proved most effective. Scale, and an existing industry base, obviously
The “Los Angeles Plan” demonstrated the type of commitment required to compete in these years. The Los Angeles Plan revolved around the Chamber and its Washington lobbyists. A formal record-keeping operation kept the Chamber aware of which plants among the 6,000 Los Angeles factories could be converted to war production. The chamber maintained contract with the Defense Distribution Service to keep that government agency informed of potential defense contractors in the area. This program became a model for other communities and was part of the infrastructure of the military-fortress strategy. To curry favor, Los Angeles held special war bond referenda to finance construction of five U.S. Navy ships. Los Angeles pursued the aircraft industry, which in 1939 employed about 20,000 workers. By 1943 it expanded to nearly a quarter of a million in Los Angeles County alone. Douglas, Hughes, North American and Lockheed located most of their national production in the Los Angeles metro area. UCLA created a new engineering program to meet the technical needs of the aircraft manufacturers.
Long Beach copied Los Angeles and expanded on its program. The Long Beach Chamber incorporated two subsidiaries: the “Associated Defense Industries of Long Beach”, and “the Long Beach Manufacturers” to carry out initiatives.
San Diego, San Francisco, and Oakland were no shirkers. Their Chamber-led programs diligently stalked/targeted key infrastructure initiatives as airports and “defense highways”. The San Francisco Downtown Association financed a $150,000 contribution to the Salt Lake City (Utah) Chamber to secure federal approval for constructing a “Victory Highway” between those two cities—they competed with the Los Angeles Chamber that had established an office in Salt Lake City to build the same highway to Los Angeles (Lotchin, Fortress California, 1992, pp. 133-6). At the conclusion of the 1940 San Francisco Golden Gate Exposition, the Navy Department purchased the island which housed the Exposition and built facilities that became part of the city’s wartime $3.99 billion in war contracts, $364 million in federally funded industrial facilities, and $452 million in new military base facilities. Manufacturing employment during the war increased by over 100,000. The Bay Area built an estimated 26% of all ships constructed during the war (Abbott, 1998, p. 4).
Los Angeles was not alone in enjoying aircraft industry-related largesse, As early as 1916 surplus capital generated by the area’s oil and gas industry served as venture capital for locating aircraft manufacturing in Wichita. Over the next decade, entrepreneurs like (oilman) Jake Moellendick, Walter Beech, Lloyd Stearman, and Clyde Cessna[i] started new aircraft facilities. By 1929 a small god-forbid, Wichita “cluster” of ten aircraft firms employed 2,000 workers, and produced over a thousand planes (26% of the nation’s production). Most failed in the depression, but Beech, Cessna and Stearman kept going—producing about 300 planes annually—and then came World War II. As early as September, 1940, Wichita plants had military contracts worth $20 million. Employment soared from two thousand to more than thirteen thousand in less than a year and then nearly quadrupled again to sixty thousand before 1945. Effective lobbying in Washington by the newly-formed Kansas Industrial Development Commission kept the aircraft contract spigot flowing. One of Wichita’s plants produced the Enola Gay, the B-29 which dropped the first atomic bomb (Shortridge, 2004, p. 252). Wichita’s population grew by 46% to 168,000 in 1950.
Phoenix offered the military a number of advantages: year round training in desert conditions and a protected inland location safe from enemy attack. With little fanfare the Phoenix business community and Chamber adopted its version of San Diego’s public-private intergovernmental strategy (Carl Hayden handled the congressional end) to acquire military/defense related facilities. “Business leaders offered many inducements and every form of cooperation”. By 1942 three army and six air bases (plus defense production plants) had been installed in the Phoenix metro area. Luckingham attributes subsequent Phoenix postwar expansion to “a multiplier effect” where early production plants “attracted others. Predominant were light and clean industries, especially electronics firms which flourished in the low humidity climates”, not clashing with the city’s critical tourism sector (Luckingham, 1983, p. 310).
Federal Government as City-Builder
Accustomed to nineteenth adventures of western Privatist city-builders, during WWII we meet up with city-builders such as the Defense Department and Atomic Energy Commission. The earliest city-building example, on a large scale, was Henderson, Nevada—a suburb, sort of, of Las Vegas. Henderson was a semi-desert/small town where the Defense Plant Corporation required (1941) Basic Magnesium, Inc. to construct worker housing. At war’s end about 15,000 lived there and in 1953 it incorporated as a city. Today Henderson is a Las Vegas blue collar suburb whose population exceeds 250,000—a boomburb of the seventies and eighties. Another example of federal military city-building was Richland, Washington located along the Columbia River.
Richland built in 1943-1944 to accommodate a DuPont, then General Electric plutonium from uranium 238 factories. The city-building conducted by the always-friendly Corps of Engineers, who after the 1943 harvest evicted the local asparagus farm growers, giving them thirty days to move out. Both companies jointly constructed the Hanford manufacturing facility, following which the Corp “attractively” designed accompanying housing and neighborhoods. At its peak during the war 51,000 lived here. Residents described early Richland as “a carnival (with music played over the public address system), as a concentration camp (with barracks and guarded fences) and a gigantic bus station (where you wouldn’t … leave your luggage unattended)… Most of the workers (residents) left, pursued by ‘termination winds’ that drove great clouds of dust … (causing) mass turnover in the workforce (Abbott, 1998, pp. 22-3). Fortunately, Richland enjoyed a “second wind”. After the war nearly 22,000 residents called it home. Today, Richland, with its still operating Hanford Plant, matured into “the atomic age equivalent of a homey small town” of nearly 50,000.
Richland, of course, was not the only small town created to manufacture the atomic bomb. The most famous example of atomic bomb-city-building is, of course, Los Alamos New Mexico—thirty five, easily walkable (sarcasm), miles from Albuquerque. The site, chosen by such noted urbanists as General Leslie Grove and Robert Oppenheimer, because it was … well … nowhere (for its isolation). The predecessor of AEC constructed the town—a closed community owned, managed and guarded by the U.S. Army and now the AEC. Los Alamos (which means “cottonwoods”) is presently an elite, well-off community of 12,000, the most highly educated in America–nearly 12% of those above 65 being millionaires. It has become the poster child for knowledge-based economic development.
The Federal Government Jumpstarts Airport Development
In 1918 the U.S. Postal Service with government-owned planes and army fliers offered the first air mail service. No private operator responded to Postal Service bid for services. Congress mandated Postal Service use of private carriers (1926) and mandated installation of a national air navigation system, while prohibiting direct federal airport funding. Subsequent private airport development was rudimentary; runways leveled, but not graded, a few buildings at one end, and a few lights. Commercial air activity depended on federal contracts to deliver the mail (Altshuler & Luberoff, 2003, p. 124).
Entrepreneurs attracted to early commercial flight typically flew the planes—they didn’t form businesses—and conventional capital investment in this young, crash-prone sector was difficult to justify—like space travel today perhaps. An aircraft industry developed during the twenties. But aircraft design/technology in this period was little more than big engines on wings—with a propeller tossed in. The pilot’s seat could literally be on top of the gas tank. Customers were intrigued, but trains arrived on time and traveled on foggy nights. Into this private sector void jumped chambers of commerce.
The potential inherent in air travel and commercial flight pressed harshly on the tender sensitivities of our competitive urban hierarchy. “Be the first on your block to have an airport” was certainly one motivation behind chamber enthusiasm, but “you’d better not be the last on your block” was another. “Atlanta leaders mobilized successfully to ensure that their city, not Birmingham, would be the terminus for southeastern airmail service” and Congressmen delivered the pork of Postal Service contracts to firms in their jurisdictions (Altshuler & Luberoff, 2003, p. 124). Dallas and Fort Worth argued for decades (until 1973) on airport-related issues. In Los Angeles, literally a dozen groups developed competing proposals for siting LAX. The victor, a site in Inglewood area northwest of downtown, exposed what would be a major problem with 1920’s siting decisions—they were too close to settled areas and would quickly be enveloped as the jurisdiction grew. Still as late as 2003, twelve of the nation’s 31 “large hub airports” sat on expanded 1920’s original sites (Altshuler & Luberoff, 2003, pp. 125-7, Tables 5-1, 5-2).
New Deal programs (WPA) pumped nearly $440 million into airports (estimated to be about 75% of 1930’s airport capital investment). LaGuardia Airport was built using WPA funds. In 1938 the Civil Aeronautics Act asserted federal oversight over the fledgling industry and among other powers set rates, airmail rates, and standards and restricted entry of new competitors—in short order commercial flying, a vital sub-state infrastructure, was transformed into a utility-like sector. The CAA established a grant program for airport construction. World War II transformed a commercial sector into a military sector critical to national survival. “During World War II, the federal government spent about $3.25 billion developing military airfields (about half of which it turned over to the states and localities after the war) and another $400 million improving civilian airports for wartime military use” (Altshuler & Luberoff, 2003, p. 125).
Federal military-related airport development wasted little time in becoming a critical local economic development focal point. Aviation-related industries and an aviation infrastructure was by wartime an absolutely vital necessity for a community of almost any size. Communities without airports had to construct them in light of the huge increases in both passenger and commercial travel, and those communities with an existing airfield dramatically expanded capacity. Chicago provides a sense of the economic development-related disruption caused by World War II federal airport-related activities. Chicago’s Midway Airport (ten miles outside of downtown and the nation’s busiest commercial airport in the 1940’s) had to be either massively expanded, or a new airport developed. Four sites contested for a new airport. A site owned by the Army, the Douglas Aircraft site, seventeen miles from the business district, requiring substantial highway construction, beat its rivals after the Army was convinced by local Congressmen to donate the site to the City. Cities across the nation could tell similar stories—and that is how much of our current urban airport infrastructure came into being.
Do You Know the Way to San Jose?
Jobs attracted people. Western states (1940 to 1945) attracted about seven million net new residents. The West’s urban population (1940’s) increase 8,245,000 was virtually identical to the region’s total population increase of 8,302,000; 13 of 15 western metropolitan areas and 43 of 49 metros in the South gained population, but only 25 of the 74 metropolitan areas in the North (Abbott, the New Urban America, 1981, p. 100). The pace of migration was intense and rapid. Between 1940 and November 1943, 28 of the West’s 32 metropolitan districts gained civilian residents. The West’s only losers were smaller “college cities” whose youth went off to war. The corresponding figure for in the eastern metro areas was 53 gainers and 52 losers (Abbott, 1998, pp. 12-3). San Diego nearly doubled in population during the decade (92%), Seattle only 45%, Denver 38%, but Phoenix 78%. Los Angeles City grew an anemic 31% (sarcastic).
Between April 1940 and October 1941, San Diego recorded the nation’s highest population growth with 27 percent, Wichita the second highest 20 percent. Close behind were Long Beach, Corpus Christi and Wichita Falls. The largest absolute increases in population during the same months were 40,000 in Seattle, 50,000 in Washington D.C., and 150,000 in Los Angeles. Rates of population increase for the early 1940’s ranged from 30 percent to 65 percent and the annual population increment between sixteen and twenty thousand. The story was the same as in Mobile and Charleston, Fort Worth and Wichita, San Diego, Albuquerque, Seattle, San Francisco and smaller Sunbelt cities. Growth did not stop at war’s end.
Most wartime-relocated workers stayed after the war (Herman, 2012, pp. 259-60). Postwar Denver, for example, grew the most, gaining between thirty and fifty thousand new residents each decade until the middle 1970’s. Tourism, lifestyle and scientific research as well as associated high-tech manufacturing grew alongside the early federal government-related sectors. Much of this growth, such as the 1956 Titan missile Martin Marietta Aerospace manufacturing facility in Littleton located in the suburbs. There are literally a hundred set of postwar statistics and stories that could be told. Below is a mini description of Portland (OR) that conveys a sense of the housing/public housing issues and atmosphere that characterized war and postwar western (and southern) war production.
Over the 1940’s decade the City of Portland increased to 467,000 from a 1940 base of 305,000—a miserly 23%. The Portland metro, however, increased by 207,000 or 37%. Portland grew before the war even started because the pre-war lend lease program to England/ USSR traveled through Vladivostok—by way of Portland docks. Lend lease spurred Portland shipbuilding and aluminum reduction plants. Hometown-boy Kaiser quickly built three shipyards, creating jobs for thirty thousand workers by 1941. By 1943, Portland shipyard workers totaled something in excess of 115,000. Early wartime migrants to Portland were young, male, and unemployed. Despite their “promising potential as the future “Greatest Generation” these fine fellows, left on their own as young workers, could often be found lying on the barroom floor. Growth is one thing, but rapid growth can be very painful indeed. Portland, hitherto, a business-led community and conservative electorate was overwhelmed by these young male workers. The mayor had to clamp down on the “Virginia City” boom town conviviality that characterized some neighborhoods and downtown watering holes.
Where did Portland’s workers come from? A survey by Portland’s Kaiser shipyards found that 5,000 workers came from Idaho, 4,000 from Montana, 3,000 from North Dakota and 2,000 each from South Dakota, Nebraska, Iowa, Minnesota, and Illinois—all easily accessible with a railroad ticket on the Union Pacific and Northern Pacific railroads. There were also 3,000 New Yorkers and 1,000 from Alabama “recruited by the company and transported on chartered railroad cars” (Abbott, the Metropolitan Frontier, 1998, pp. 14-7). Rapid population growth greatly affected the city’s character and lifestyle. The draft and severe worker shortages changed that atmosphere. By 1943 nearly one in four shipyard workers were female—Portland could easily have been the true home of “Rosie the Riveter”[ii]. In desperation, the city of Portland conducted a block-by-block survey/inspection to locate women available to work in the shipyards.
When the federal Housing Act was approved, Pacific Coast and Central Plains cities were in the first phases of the war production migration tsunami–rapidly escalating into a housing crisis. When they embraced slum clearance and public or defense housing, it was for different reasons/goals—in an entirely different policy context–than their eastern compatriots. Although, Portland felt intensive pressures from migration early on, local resistance to slum clearance and public housing attracted little sympathy in Portland’s more conservative politics. Despite intense pressure from New Deal housing officials to follow through on the 1937 Housing Act, Portland voters rejected 32,000 to 18,000 (1938), creating a local housing authority. Only by the middle of 1940, with the shipyards in crisis, did the City Council endorse approval (Abbott, 1981, p. 102)l. Mayor Earl Riley eventually bypassed the existing Planning Commission, forming his own Housing Authority which then proceeded to build shipyard-related worker housing—in Portland’s suburbs—story to follow below.
It’s easy to talk of war production migration, but wartime migration often exacted seriously negative effects on nonwhites. “War time booms … emptied farm counties and small towns of their unemployed … Labor demands of defense plants triggered a ‘second’ Great Migration of blacks from farm to city. New migration streams from Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas and Louisiana to the cities of the West Coast were added to the established flow from the South East to the North … Competition for jobs and housing led to racial violence” (Abbott, 1987, p. 59). Still, as late as 1950, the South retained 63% of the nation’s black population, while the entire West held less than 3% (570,000) (McDonald, 2008, p. 29). Compared to Los Angeles Portland was lucky. Los Angeles became a so-called” melting pot containing Black, Mexican and native white Okies and Arkies. The Mexican community doubled (to 400,000), and the city served as destination and a distribution point for 100,000 temporary Mexican workers under the bracero program (1942)[iii]. The 1943 “Zoot Suit” riots devastated several neighborhoods. Riots that occurred in eastern cities, such as Detroit, were replicated in western cities as well (Omaha). Los Angeles, home to the majority of Japanese-Americans, imprisoned them in internment camps during the war. Japanese internment allowed others to take advantage of their old housing, jobs and businesses.
Postwar Industrial Decentralization: “the gift that keeps on giving”
After 1947 war was “the gift that keeps on giving” as Cold War, Korean War, Vietnam and eventually a “Permanent” War ensued. At WWII’s end, there was too much existing “war-related” capacity, given demobilization. Facilities, airfields in particular, and factories closed down/downshifted across the nation; reconversion to peace time production and all sorts of disruption occurred throughout 1946. In such an environment, the military-chamber-metro-fortress ED nexus switched gears (did the reader really believe it would “fade away”?). Iron triangles re-focused on preserving securing the firm’s position within the local economic base. Industrial decentralization acquired a new meaning and context.
There was a regional bias in war production consolidation/reconversion. Much of the eastern industrial base could be converted back to consumer durable goods (cars and refrigerators). Old facilities, located in central cities, were particularly vulnerable. Technology, production efficiencies, transportation logistics, and global markets meant older facilities were candidates for closedown. Regional and municipal alliances congealed into informal Congressional voting blocs seeking to require military reinvestment/production contracts for these vulnerable factories. At the same time communities/states generally the West and “New” South, a new “round” of military-related industrial decentralization and military contracts.
While many in the Eastern Policy World were duking it out over future Housing Acts, a donnybrook within Congress over municipal war factory shutdowns and new military contracts erupted through 1954. Western and southern local/state EDOs were deeply involved in that struggle. Thus the battle lines in the decade following war’s end was between “haves” and “have nots”. The “rump” regional alliances that characterized postwar industrial decentralization debate overlapped the IRB “shadow war” discussed in the last chapter—and the negative reaction to the “Selling of the South”. Industrial decentralization and now consolidation became yet one more regional division, drifting toward mid/late 1970’s Second War Between the States.
The military played a major role in this struggle. Their most pressing issue was to support newer weapon systems (aircraft and shipyards) that were concentrated in a few cities[iv]. The military’s postwar industrial decentralization debate centered about the threat caused by concentration of production in a few large cities. Concentration meant war production was vulnerable to bomber, and now nuclear attack. Nuclear bombs supposedly created a “crater” ranging between three and ten miles. Between 1950 and 1954 that vulnerability increased with the arrival of nuclear missiles, bigger payloads, nuclear submarines, and jets that could cross over the North Pole and reach into places never before accessible. Laugh, ignore and “harrumph” as one might, nuclear war was perceived as a very real threat well into the early 1980’s—it became arguably the dominant issue of the era. Economic development now played in the shadows of another policy area. National interest seemingly dictated that have nots be favored by building new facilities, if not closing down older existing, “haves” facilities. The federal government, once again, was monkeying with local economic bases and infrastructure.
The battle first erupted in 1948 when defense officials pressured Boeing into producing a B-36 bomber in Wichita rather than Seattle. Military officials wanted a “defense in depth” that meant relocation into the nation’s interior. Shortly after, military officials convinced Chance-Vought from Connecticut to Dallas (the story of that, and the Dallas Chamber’s role told last chapter), Consolidated Aircraft’s B-36 production was moved from San Diego to Fort Worth, a new GE “turbojet” engine plant was authorized to be built in Kansas City, and plans were announced to move Lockheed Aircraft from Burbank to Tulsa (Lotchin, 1993, pp. 50-1). Each of these facilities involved thousands of workers, a huge supplier network, and logistics implications. ED’s metro-military nexus shifted into high gear—led initially by Seattle, in early 1949, they struck back. Seattle’s chamber, city hall and congressional delegation advocated a military policy that dispersed facilities/factories WITHIN the same metro area—rather than decentralizing it away to a “have not” metro. That’s when the three mile versus ten mile bomb crater became relevant. The decision-making battleground was the no doubt well-known National Security Resources Board (NSRB).
Los Angeles formed its equally well-known EDO, the Los Angeles Metropolitan Area Industrial Dispersion Committee, and the San Francisco-based, newly-formed Bay Area Council joined with it in presenting their two cents worth to Congress and the NSRB. Fifty-two metropolitan areas formed similar industrial dispersion committees by the end of 1952 (Lotchin, 1993, p. 52). The pressure these metro EDOs exerted on both military and Congress forged a formal dispersion policy (August 1951) that adopted the ten mile crater metric, but created so many exceptions and loopholes, requiring that each potential relocating plant had to seek approval from its local industrial dispersion committee, and providing accelerated tax write-offs and allowing local/state tax incentives, meant that in practical life the “Haves” won.
Not to worry, the Korean War started in 1950. In the midst of the Korean War, the Truman Administration, like FDR in 1940, wanted production fast and cheap—relocation and new facilities meant time and expense. Of the $8 billion new plant or plant expansion contracts released under Truman’s administration, most went to the “Haves”. Truman’s plan favored sites around Detroit, New York, Pittsburgh, and San Francisco. [Most of these facilities were built or expanded in suburbs, not central cities] (Lotchin, 1993, p. 52). Meanwhile back at the Defense Department, the military were quite frustrated with their inability to achieve geographic dispersal to have nots. The “have not’s were deeply infuriated.
We’re not done. Between July 1951 and mid-summer 1956 two Congressional committees thrashed out amendments to the 1950 Defense Production Act that would have fixed in stone a clear winner in our postwar industrial decentralization affair. The debate again seemingly ignored regional boundaries and followed the “have/have not” distinction. When the Office of Defense Mobilization in January 1956 issued guidelines based on the principle of geographic as opposed to metropolitan decentralization, “have not” Senators and Congressmen sprang into battle to support the Office and bring to an end the ad hoc policy favoring the “haves”.
Senators Fulbright (AL) and Carl Mundt (SD), attacking the “Haves”, loudly proclaimed the dangers of nuclear vulnerability, but also decrying that previous policy/legislation “pretty well ignored the locating of defense fabricating plants” in the Middle West (Central States). California Senators countered that such extra-regional dispersal involved nothing less than expensive “socialist planning” and would entail increased expenditure for local governments for infrastructure, streets and utilities. Connecticut’s Senator Horace Seely Brown argued regional dispersal would “result in the denial of defense production contracts not only to our firms in Connecticut, but throughout New England”. Congressman Edward Boland noted Springfield Massachusetts’ opposition, so did Michigan’s Gerald Ford. Los Angeles Congressman McDonough argued “Dispersal would disrupt the economy of all the large industrial areas of the Nation. Moving a plant out of St Louis to a weed patch somewhere is no solution”. Finally, the great state of Rhode Island chipped in “We in Rhode Island … know intimately the burden inflicted by the flight of the textile industry to mills in the South, and the movement … of machinery-manufacturing to the Middle West. Decentralization would deal a death blow to the hopes and aspirations of many of our Rhode Island communities which are so desperately striving to pull themselves up virtually by their own bootstraps.” (Lotchin, 1993, pp. 55-8) I couldn’t have said it better. The vote for geographic, extra-region (“have nots”) industrial decentralization came in June 1956. It won—64-19 (Senate) and 210 to 207 (House). The “have nots” overturned the industrial defense policy.
As Lotchin concluded “the geography of the vote revealed its sectional biases”. Washington State, California stood with New England and the Great Lakes industrial belt on the losing side, they could not hold Pennsylvania and New York or Midwest non-urban districts. Representatives of the South and West voted 75% in favor of geographic dispersal. From that point on, military contracts for new facilities and weapons through the 1960’s went to “have nots” in the South and West. An example of how a western city took advantage of this, Colorado Springs stands out.
[i] Bruce Bissonette, The Wichita Four: Cessna, Moellendick, Beach and Stearman (Aviation Heritage, 1999); and Jeffrey L Rodengen, The Legend of Cessna (Write Stuff Syndicate, 2007). Stearman was bought out by Boeing
[ii] A lyric in a 1942 song by Redd Evans/John Jacob Loeb, later picked up by big band leader Kay Keyser. The real Rosie, Rosie Bonavitas, was an assembler in a San Diego Convair plant. It became a famous Saturday Evening Post cover page. The idea originated in Canada from Veronica Foster who (1941) was “Ronnie the Bren Gun Girl”.
[iii] The Bracero Program (bracero, I am told, means manual labor) was a series of laws and diplomatic agreements that followed from the Mexican Farm Labor Agreement of 1942 and enacted by Presidential executive order. The agreement allowed millions (over 4 million) Mexicans to work, mostly in agriculture, under short-term employer contracts. Because of the Korean War, the program was formally enacted into law in 1951 and continued to its end in 1964. http://braceroarchive.org/about
[iv] Los Angeles, Wichita, St Louis, Seattle, Dallas, Rhode Island, Long Island and Connecticut, Norfolk, Charleston, Boston, Kansas City, Tulsa, Portland, San Diego and San Francisco
Ron W. Coan 