Paying the Toll: Local Power, Regional Politics, and the Golden Gate Bridge (review)

Paying the Toll is an important contribution to the study of business history—far more significant than its title alone suggests. Louise Nelson Dyble recounts the history of a special district, the Golden Gate Bridge and Highway District (aka the Bridge District), which was created to build and service the debt for financing the Golden Gate Bridge. Special districts are local governmental corporations, often covering multiple counties, and undertaking some special activity (pp. 4–5). Though not as well known as many city, state, or federal agencies, special districts represent a major form of government. Dyble notes that as of 2002 there were more than thirty-five thousand special districts in the United States (averaging seven hundred per state); or put another way, "by 2002 special districts comprised 40 percent of all local governments" (p. 206). It is not only their proliferation to such a degree that makes this study important, but Dyble also explores the dark side of special districts. From the very start, the bridge district tried to block her access to its archives. Only after she pointed out that access was assured through the California Public Records Act (which named the bridge district in its legislation) did officials open their files (p. 3). So one wonders, what did the bridge directors want to keep hidden from public view?

To be sure, the history of the bridge district is not completely negative. It did accomplish its objective. The bridge was completed in 1937; the bonds were paid off in 1971. The toll initially was set at 50 cents, but subsequently dropped to 40 cents and then to 25 cents in 1955 (pp. 79, 96–97).

Dyble nevertheless argues that the bridge district engaged in corrupt practices (pp. 7, 48). The potential for corruption came from the autonomy that the agency won through its enabling legislation. In contrast to other special districts where directors were elected, Dyble writes: "County supervisors appointed all bridge directors for four-year terms, and they could not be recalled" (p. 22). In addition, the bridge district directors "would establish tolls and charges, levy property taxes, and incur nonbonded debt at their own discretion" (p. 23). Thus, they were protected to a degree from public criticism and they had the incentive to pursue policies aimed at perpetuating the bridge district rather than simply paying off the bonds (p. 5).

In looking for wrongdoing, Dyble finds one of her best examples concerned safety. Within a few years of its operation, bridge district engineer Russell Cone worried that strong winds would produce a "twisting motion" (p. 88), but Dyble reports that "the bridge directors suppressed Cone's findings, keeping them secret to avoid bad publicity and traffic reductions" (pp. 86–87). A decade passed before federal investigators (not the bridge district) publicized the problem and the bridge was fixed.

Dyble also charges that the directors engaged in malfeasance when it came to the question of tolls. That bridge directors pursued policies at odds with their customers—the daily commuters—became obvious in their high tolls. A 50-cent toll during the 1930s translates in current (2009) dollars into a toll of $7.40 (one way). And even when the toll was cut to 40 cents by the early 1950s this still represents a charge in current dollars of over $3.50 (calculations for converting historical dollars into current dollars are made using the price calculator of the Federal Reserve Bank of Minneapolis; see http://www.minneapolisfed.org, accessed December 31, 2009).

During the early 1950s, state senator Jack McCarthy attacked the bridge district, complaining that the directors were not responding to commuters. McCarthy's committee pointed to reserves of $14 million that the directors had built up while working to pay off debts totaling $31.2 million. Such large reserves could justify a toll cut, McCarthy charged (p. 94). The bridge directors saw things differently...