Big-box city

Tulsa’s fight over Helmerich Park raises questions over future development

“I don't want to build a store there. … Momma doesn't like it too much.”
     — Peggy Helmerich, speaking to KJRH

Throughout this summer and fall, one of the biggest stories in Tulsa has been the fight over Helmerich Park, a patch of land between Riverside Drive and the Arkansas River south of 71st Street. It’s home to a few well-loved sand volleyball courts, a small playground, and … not much else. But Recreational Equipment Inc. (REI) plans to change that. The Washington-based big-box sporting goods store announced plans last summer to build a Tulsa location on top of Helmerich Park, a revelation that sparked feelings from excitement to outrage, depending on who you ask.

With the Gathering Place under construction and downtown development booming, intense public interest in Tulsa’s next phase of growth has resulted in floods of protest over everything from a proposed outlet mall near Turkey Mountain (successfully pushed out to Jenks following public outcry) to high-end lofts in the Brady Arts District’s music corridor. Citizens will soon be voting on the proposed construction of low-water dams in the Arkansas River, and as such, land development along the river has become a hot topic. With the REI announcement, the unassuming patch at Helmerich Park became the subject of the year’s most argued-about land-use issues. 

To fully understand these issues, we must first jump back 25 years. 

In 1991, the Tulsa City Council voted to allocate public funds from a 1985 sales tax ordinance (earmarked for “parkland”) and combine the funds with private donations from 27 corporations and individuals to purchase 70 acres along the Arkansas River. The land would be the responsibility of Tulsa Parks, and held in a public trust. 

At the time, the Tulsa World heralded this “wise plan for maximum public use of the land south of 71st Street,” and stated that the creation of Helmerich Park “will be recorded in Tulsa’s history to the everlasting credit of the present mayor and city council.”

A great start, but after 1991, the only park improvements made were theoretical—good ideas hidden in planning binders collecting dust on the shelves of city hall. 

Eight years later, in 1999, the park board finally drafted a set of plans to further develop Helmerich Park. These plans contained some of the same ideas that are being executed at the Tulsa Gathering Place: multiple water features, world-class sculptures, several recreation and garden areas each with their own theme, and a 10,000-square-foot community center. Unfortunately, at the time, neither Tulsa Parks nor the City of Tulsa had the money to move forward, and the plans were shelved. 

INCOG (the Indian Nations Council of Governments, Tulsa’s regional planning organization) tried their hand at coming up with a new idea for the park in 2005, to no avail. Part of the Arkansas River Corridor Development Phase II Master Plan calls for the creation of a lake, boat dock, community center, and new playgrounds and recreation areas. 

Seemingly giving up on planning for a park, the city released a request for proposal (RFP) for commercial development of the land in 2013. This RFP listed the land as available to be leased from the city. After a year, the city had received no responses to this request. Then, this past June, quiet plans for purchase of the area by a Dallas-based subsidiary of commercial developer CBRE were discovered by a few local land-use nerds (folks who read things like the city’s budget and comprehensive plan for fun), who proceeded to launch a firestorm on social media—notably, a petition on change.org, the Twitter account @reitulsa, and a series of articles on the Smart Growth Tulsa blog written by former Mayor Terry Young. Local citizens demanded answers to the legal loopholes used to put this land up for sale. 

The response from the Tulsa Public Facilities Authority (TPFA), the trust that holds the deed to the land, was to file a lawsuit against Craig Immel, a private citizen who attended and was vocal during TPFA meetings. At the end of this past November, a letter containing a mountain of legal evidence against TPFA’s actions circulated through the city council and the media. Since then, barrels of ink have been spilled in the Tulsa World, The Frontier, Newson6 and Fox23 going back and forth about whether the land should be developed for an REI superstore or should remain as public park land.

“I don't want to have an authority taking away the rights of the citizens of Tulsa to use [Helmerich Park] as a park. We have to make sure we don't give someone the opportunity to take that right away from us.”
     —Councilor Dewey Bartlett, Tulsa City Council meeting, May 1991 

The battle has pitted Mayor Bartlett and Clay Bird, head of Tulsa’s Office of Economic Development, against conservationists and advocates who want the land to remain a park. And this fight is just the tip of the iceberg. The mayor has asked for a list of 20 pieces of public land that the city can sell. Speaking in terms of economics, selling the city’s land is about as wise as pawning your grandma’s priceless jewelry at Tulsa Gold & Gems.

So, why are we doing this? 

Because of our leaders’ apparent inability to increase tax revenue, save for sales tax, the city feels pressure to sell land and attract big-box retail. This is an anachronistic strategy, though, and promises to be destructive in the long term. Creating more retail space doesn’t contribute to the economic growth of a city. The Institute for Local Self-Reliance (ilsr.org) lists several studies that show big-box retail is actually economically harmful to cities, while developing new local businesses has been proven to create sustainable economic growth. 

How, then, do we resolve this mess? 

We may need to look no further than REI itself and the work it’s done in other communities. In Dallas, REI moved out of an off-the-highway, big-box store to a new location near the White Rock Creek Greenbelt, closer to residential neighborhoods. According to a May 2014 press release, the reason for the move was to “allow REI customers and members to more easily access our products and expert staff, including better public transit options.” 

Transit options. You don’t hear a lot of retail stores clamoring for transit options in Tulsa, but REI’s business is to understand what its customers want. In 2013, the Washington Post reported on a University of Michigan study which found the number of 18- to 35-year-olds not applying for driver’s licenses has grown to 19 percent. That’s one in five young adults who isn’t interested in driving a car. Cities typically develop around transit, and increasingly, retailers are following suit.

Another key trend that Tulsa should take note of is increased public involvement in public policy matters. In a statement released on December 11 to FOX23, REI was clear about its terms: “REI has not signed a lease in Tulsa and will not do so until the city has resolved its discussion of the development with the community.” They recognize the public is a critical part of the discussion.

Most cities have economic development commissions, ideally comprised of members in the business community, city council, the city’s planning department, and citizen volunteers. These commissions play an important advisory role to city leaders in developing a strong economic growth strategy, and help bring diverse opinions to the table. This often leads cities to adopt solid economic policies, resulting in stable, long-term decisions. This is the kind of predictability that land developers like to see. 

Tulsa had an economic development commission, but Mayor Bartlett dissolved it in 2014 in the same executive order that created the Mayor's Office of Economic Development, led by Clay Bird.

What the Helmerich Park controversy has uncovered is a general lack of trust between citizens and city hall. Just before the holidays, the mayor and city council supposedly hammered out a final package to renew Vision2025. The Tulsa Chamber was quick to say they are tentatively supportive, at best. If taxpayers don’t trust local government to manage Tulsa’s development responsibly, new tax packages like Vision2025 will continue to be poorly received, and more fights in the public square over land use will plague us for years to come. 

Carlos Moreno is a graphic designer, community volunteer, serial entrepreneur, and a magic-bean buyer. He serves on the boards of Smart Growth Tulsa, the Art Directors Club of Tulsa, and the Tulsa chapter of Code for America. He was selected by national urban-affairs magazine NextCity as part of its 2014 Vanguard Class. He's passionate about improving public policy, building civic engagement, and collaborating with local creatives.

For more from Carlos, read his article on Juvenile Detention.