Boise's ‘big 3': As major donors fade from spotlight, community grapples with who will replace them
By Gregory Hahn
Imagine the Treasure Valley without the the M.K. Nature Center or the Esther Simplot Performing Arts Academy. Revert Albertson College back to the College of Idaho — and take more than $50 million from the school.
Pave over Kathryn Albertson Park and Ann Morrison Park — all 186 acres of them. Forget about any plans for an Esther Simplot Park to complete Boise's "ribbon of gems."
And here's a scary one: Contemplate Idaho education without the $240 million the J.A. and Kathryn Albertson Foundation has donated over the past 10 years alone.
Now you're starting to get an idea of what the Valley would be without these large corporate headquarters and the homegrown entrepreneurial families that created them.
In today's fluid and global economy, though, Albertsons is owned by a Minnesota company. Morrison-Knudsen has become Washington Group International and could soon merge with San Francisco-based URS Corp.
J.R. Simplot is in his 90s.
Even a younger generation of wealth may be threatened. Every time investors show a flurry of attention to Micron Technology's struggling stock, analysts and Wall Street watchers speculate that Idaho's largest private employer could be a prime target for a buyout.
Business leaders say the migration of corporate ownership doesn't hurt the Valley's economic vitality, but these companies and founding families have provided more than jobs.
Local historians, fundraisers and other experts attest to the role these families have played here, and they acknowledge the challenge the community has to develop the next generation of givers and leaders. Micron looked to be taking the mantle over the past 20 years, but who will be there for the next 20?
"What is a little bit worrisome is who is that next generation?" said Lynn Hoffman, director of the Idaho Nonprofit Development Center.
But Boise may never see the rise of industrialists to match the titans of the past, and that means that the Valley will have to adjust to the economic — and philanthropic — trends that could shape it for years to come.
‘the big 3'
They built empires from Idaho: Joe Albertson with groceries, Jack Simplot with spuds, and Harry Morrison with the worldwide construction company Morrison-Knudsen. And they devoted millions of their dollars to the community.
'‘The Big 3' were certainly essential to Boise's development, both economically and culturally," said Tully Gerlach, Boise official city historian. "The success of each proved that this city was a viable place to build a successful and highly profitable industry, and, in turn, each made major contributions to the culture and livability of Boise."
Though the Gilded Age hit Idaho a little later than the eastern United States, these families fit in the tradition of the Carnegies and Rockefellers.
"That's the way that generation gave back," Zive said. "In real visual ways when communities were still being built."
Esther Simplot and Velma Morrison supported the arts. The Albertsons looked to education.
They didn't singlehandedly build the city, but they helped form the way it looks today. When Harry Morrison donated the land for a city park to honor his wife, Ann, his company did much of the work, but hundreds of Boiseans donated trees, shrubs and equipment.
Perhaps because of its isolated high desert locale, the city has had to rely on its own to develop.
"Because we were isolated from the very beginning, since Boise was settled there has been an internal community strength," said Mary K. Aucutt, who runs the city's Funding Information Center in the Boise Library. "We had to do a lot of these things ourselves."
This is still largely the case.
"Relative to other states, we don't get a lot of outside dollars," Hoffman said.
a transition period
Demand for those dollars is growing here, too.
The number of Idaho nonprofits with more than $25,000 in expenses grew by 14 percent from 2002 to 2004, and the annual rate of growth for the past decade has averaged almost 10 percent.
"That's a significant change," Hoffman said. "With that kind of fundraising mass, there's just a lot of competition."
And the civic and economic pictures have changed, too. It's hard to imagine a future urban land donation here could match the 55-acre Esther Simplot Park — let alone the 145 acres at Ann Morrison Park.
"The land has already been given away or sold," Hoffman said.
New companies will be smaller, less land-and-capital-intense.
"The wave of the future is that growth is in independent start-ups," Zive said.
The nature of business is different, Gerlach added.
"Today's corporations, or at least those that appear to have any sense of cultural and civic responsibility, have a much broader focus, national or even global — Microsoft being the best example," he said. "While having a corporate headquarters in your city may still have some economic payoff, there's also a lot of risk, too, as we have seen recently, if the company is sold or otherwise shaken up somehow.
"What's more important is having solid civic institutions, foundations, individuals willing to support the arts, and locally grown companies of all sizes."
That's a point many fundraisers raise — these corporate changes aren't the end of the philanthropical world.
"When companies get sold, it doesn't mean we're going to see a change," Zive said.
The nonprofit sector worried when what was once Idaho's largest bank, First Security, was bought by Wells Fargo. But the new company stayed as engaged in Boise as ever, Zive said.
When the Albertsons company was sold to SuperValu, the Albertsons family foundation didn't move to Minneapolis — it still donates more than $20 million in Idaho most years. The new company kept the local Albertsons Open charity golf tournament. The family foundation — like Harry Morrison's — will contribute long after the family's founders are gone.
It's possible, too, to overstate the importance of the top corporate donors, often for the easy reason that the completed project bears their names.
Hoffman estimates that 85 to 90 percent of all philanthropic dollars comes from individuals — and those dollars add up. The nonprofit sector now spends more than $1.7 billion in Idaho alone, about 3 percent of the state's gross product.
looking for the next generation
Still, fundraisers here know they have to change their tactics, too, as they find people to replace the Albertsons, Morrisons and Simplots.
The phenomenon here isn't new or unique — in the nonprofit world it is called the "graying of the philanthropist."
It happened before. A century ago this year, one of Boise's founders Tom Davis created the first of the city's great parks, in honor of his wife, Julia. It took more than 50 years to add Ann Morrison and Kathryn Albertson parks to that first gift. In the 1980s, decades after Jack Simplot hit it big with potatoes, he invested millions in two brothers who would build Micron, a high-tech business that would eclipse Simplot's own company.
"I saw that happen in my generation, and I expect that to happen in the next one," said Gov. Butch Otter. "When I first saw Micron, it was Joe and Ward Parkinson in a basement of a dentist's office on Cole Road. It wasn't this magnificent (company), billions upon billions of dollars worth of sales, buildings outside of town, with a worldwide presence and a worldwide name."
Fundraisers want to engage the next generations of Simplots and Albertsons themselves, but they're also looking for others who will become future community leaders.
"I think the city will be better off in the long run if it worries less about convincing large corporations to locate their headquarters here and more about encouraging and supporting the local start-ups that are the economic future of Boise," Gerlach said.
Aucutt, who has helped fundraisers find money for years, isn't worried.
"I'm thinking we're in a point of transition, but I'm not a bit concerned about it," she said.
At the United Way, Zive is working to engage business leaders like Carl Arriola, the CEO of Tates Rents, and Milt Gillespie, president of Mariposa Labs. The first step, she said, is giving people an opportunity to make a difference.
"Our challenge is engaging that next generation of philanthropists or leaders or both," Zive said. "To find new ideas, new voices, new landscapes of caring. It's all good — it's just going to look different."
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