J. REED HARTMAN
  (1898-1969)

 

      Scores of Chief Executive Officers of Cincinnati's leading corporations, men whose names would 'start a spirit' in nations' capitals the world over, have had important impact on the shaping of the City over the past four decades. Yet the name of only one modern business man is borne by a principal street or thoroughfare. And he a quiet, low-key vice-president of sales, much of whose service was rendered after retirement.

 

      Reed Hartman Highway slices down through Cincinnati's suburban city of Blue Ash from the northern border of Hamilton County, across 1-275, through the Reed Hartman Business Center, past another business center and a huge industrial park, across the Cross County Highway that links 1-75 and 1-71, to lose itself in Sycamore Township. It dominates the traffic flow of Blue Ash, and is a vital artery connecting the area's International expressways.

 

      His name is not prominent in Blue Ash. The local library has no file on him; ask a local resident, and the chances are he or she would not know who he was. Why, then, the Reed Hartman Highway? It's a long story.

 

      Hoping to locate its Municipal Airport in Blue Ash, where there already was a facility used primarily for the training of student flyers from the University of Cincinnati and Xavier University, the City of Cincinnati started in 1940 to acquire the necessary acreage.

 

      There were obstacles. The citizens of Blue Ash were violently opposed to an airport in their midst. A levy for $6 million was voted down three times by the citizens of Hamilton County. But as late as 1948 the Cincinnati Council appropriated $1 million for the purchase of more property.

 

      By the time the decision had been made, in the mid '40's, to put the airport in Boone County, Kentucky, the City was the owner of some 1600 acres of Blue Ash property.

 

      This acreage remained idle for two decades, a large area producing no tax revenue. Any possibility that the property might be annexed to Cincinnati was precluded by the fact that the two were not adjacent, and no reasonable channel or bridge connecting them could be found.

 

      Eugene Ruehlmann was then Mayor of Cincinnati, and along with City Council was faced with the problem: what to do with the dangling 1600 acres.

 

      In 1962 an organization called the Community Improvement Corporation had been formed, through the efforts of, but independent from the Chamber of Commerce, ''as a tool to help further the economic development of all of Greater Cincinnati." The quotation is from a July 23, 1973 report from Jerry Hurter, then executive director of the CIC, to Charles Scripps, publisher, its president. "Its formation resulted from studies which showed that Hamilton County had little surplus land for industrial development to support its growth potential in the next twenty years. . . CIC's purpose, as a non-profit, broad-based organization, was to seek to fulfill these needs by developing and selling land in a well-developed and restricted industrial park, providing all the service roads, utilities, water, gas, electricity, rail spurs, sewers, drainage ditches, etc."

      The CIC was inactive for its first four years. But with an amendment in January, 1966, to its Articles of Incorporation which designated it as an agent of Hamilton County it gained what it needed to become truly effective. As Hurter's report says, "designation of CIC as agent by political subdivisions will enable the municipality to issue industrial revenue bonds" to cover the costs of a commercial venture, with the obligation resting not on the municipality or its tax payers, but on the industry itself.

       The Blue Ash problem was hand-tailored for the refurbished CIC and became its first project. A board of trustees was elected, including twelve representing the business community and four each from the cities of Blue Ash and Cincinnati. Fletcher E. Nyce, president of Central Trust Company, was elected president, and Charles Scripps named secretary. Dean Fite, Procter & Gamble executive, soon was named Chairman of the Executive Committee, directly in charge of the Blue Ash project.

       Reed Hartman had retired three years earlier from Cincinnati Gas & Electric Company, where he had been Vice President, Electric Sales. Gene Ruehlmann recalls that Cincinnati's Chamber of Commerce at that time was not what it later became; the energizing force in the City, when it came to attracting new industries and in general encouraging new commercial enterprises, was the Cincinnati Gas & Electric Company. Reed Hartman had been "known unofficially as the Company's ambassador to the community," according to a Company press release at the time of his death. He was well integrated into community matters.

       In 1966 Reed was given the job of vice-president and general manager of CIC. He received a salary, and commission on sales. His assignment was to work with the CIC executive committee, the Blue Ash Planning Commission and Cincinnati's City Planning Commission to layout a plan and sell the lots. "He did a sterling job," according to Ruehlmann.Reed, and the Committee under Fite, did not always have smooth sailing. Meetings involved the Cities of Blue Ash and Cincinnati, the County of Hamilton, the State of Ohio and the Federal Government. The Penn Central Railroad had tracks going through the park. Local citizens were torn between residential and commercial development desires. Fite refers to tensions between the Blue Ash and the Cincinnati committee members; "they were probably suspicious, couldn't believe Cincinnati would do something just for their benefit." Within the Committee there was also disagreement on specific potential purchasers. "Dean didn't want any commercial enterprises," Hurter reports. "He would bang on the table and say, 'This is an industrial park!' " Restaurants, for example, were 'out'.

      Clear and strict policies were developed. A limitation was placed on the size of a lot. Only one third of a piece of property could be under roof; the balance had to be landscaped. Any building must be set back 100 feet from the road. "We had to approve the architectural design as well as the exterior materials used," recalls Earl Raible, present president of the largely dormant CIC. He adds that eye appeal was an important part of the goal. The result was a very large industrial park of exceptionally pleasant appearance. "We wanted to do something that was very attractive," was Dean Fite's comment.

      An article in the Sycamore Messinger News, January 27, 1987 indicates that this objective was reached. "In essence it can be said that the CIC is responsible for the eye appeal that distinguishes the massive industrial complex from similar areas in other cities and towns. For if the conglomerate of impressive and magnificent buildings along the Reed Hartman stretch share one common characteristic, that distinguishing quality is aesthetic appeal."
      As the program advanced, the CIC became increasingly active in the processing of industrial revenue bonds for companies seeking this type of financing for expansion. In a November 1, 1974 letter to then-president Scripps, Hurter writes, "To date we have processed about $20 million of these bonds acting as the official agent of the Cities of Cincinnati and Blue Ash, and the County of Hamilton." The press occasionally referred to the industrial park as a "$50 million" project.

       As far as the property itself was concerned, the CIC acted simply as sales agent. They would sell the property owned by the City, extract a commission to cover CIC sales costs and overhead, and turn the balance over to the City. However, funds were needed to improve the land with roads and utilities, and make it ready for industrial use.

       The committee raised $881,250 from 26 businesses. Of this, $682,000 was in the form of 5% debentures, and $199,250 was from contributions. To glance ahead: the debentures twice failed to meet their interest payments; but at their maturity in 1975, they were paid off in full - somewhat to the surprise of the bond-holders, who, according to Dean Fite, suspected that the purchase of the debentures was simply another way of making a contribution.

 

      The City of Cincinnati also came out very well. To acquire the property originally, in the 40's, Cincinnati had sold development bonds. Even after 1966, it had bought additional acreage to meet the needs of the fully developed CIC Industrial Park. "It got back more than it paid out," Ruehlmann recalls. The Post of May 21, 1976, reports the payment of $4 million from CIC to the City of Cincinnati and continues, "Charles E. Scripps, president and chairman of the CIC, said the CIC already had paid the city $5 million for the land, plus the City's costs for taxes, maintenance, operating expenses and interest on bonds." This total of $9 million was "enough to retire the bonds with a surplus," according to Ruehlmann. He gives much of the credit to Reed Hartman.

      There was an additional bonus for Blue Ash: as a parting gift, the CIC gave the City - a golf course.

      From the outset, to open up the properties for sale, a major highway right through the middle of the area was an important element in the planning of CIC Industrial Park, according to Jerry Hurter, who succeeded Hartman as vice president and general manager. The Sycamore Messinger News, September 7,1978, states that cost of the four-lane highway, which was officially opened on October 27 of that year, "is estimated to be between $5 and $6 million with 70% funded by the Federal Government, the remainder by the State with the contribution of Blue Ash to be $750,000."

       Long before the grand opening in 1978, however, the County Commissioners had asked the CIC for its suggestion regarding the naming of the new highway. The recommendation was clear: name it after Reed Hartman, whose role in the development of the area through which the highway runs had been so vital. Hence: the Reed Hartman highway.

       Highways were in Reed's thinking quite apart from the Blue Ash expressway. In the late '50's, according to an Enquirer Magazine item of February 3, 1980, Reed had said, "The trend away from mass transportation to the private auto will result in Cincinnati's expressways becoming inadequate before they are built." And when a celebration took place on June 26 of 1961 "to note the opening of the .6 mile Fort Washington Way, connecting 1-75 and 1-71," Reed Hartman was the head of the celebration committee. "This is such a momentous occasion," the Enquirer of August 4, 1988 recalls his saying, "that it calls for fireworks." And a local fireworks firm promised the show would be "the greatest Cincinnati has seen in 100 years."

       Even back in 1954, the ill-fated project of underground transportation for Cincinnatians found Reed a major participant. The Post of May, 10, 1954 reports, "A four-man Rapid Transit Committee was formed to push plans for the proposed down-town conveyor belt subway. Reed Hartman, vice-president of Cincinnati Gas & Electric Company, was named chairman. The proposal calls for the subway to run from Government Square to Main Street to Central Parkway, then to Race Street and back to Fifth Street. Below Fourth Street there would be parking spaces for 2000 autos and 150 buses."

      In the Blue Ash project, highways were a lesser consideration; but transportation concerns were never far from Hartman's mind.

      However, in Reed's own judgment "the most important single accomplishment in his life," according to a June 29, 1963 feature in the Post & Times Star, was heading up a successful drive to pass a $16.6 million redevelopment bond issue. There was a rather small faction in the City pressing for a convention hall that would strengthen the City's economy with the financial infusions brought by national and regional conventions. Another large constituent was eager to improve Cincinnati's 'front door' - the riverfront, which was then cluttered with junk yards, decaying warehouses, scrap heaps and "the accumulated filth of a century of floods," as Louis Tucker puts it in his book, Cincinnati's Citizen Crusades. It was hoped that by combining the two issues into a single levy, enough votes for passage could be garnered.

       As indicated previously, the Cincinnati Chamber of Commerce in the late fifties and early sixties was conservative to the point of being retrogressive. The attitude seemed to be, 'We have a great little City here, let's not mess it up. Industries bring labor, and that brings strife; growth may spoil everything. Let's just keep quiet and let things be.'

       The Chamber simply did not have the mechanism (office, staff, workers) or the leadership for pushing over a bond issue, or, in fact, promoting the growth of the City. Once again, the leadership role fell on the Citizens Development Committee and on Cincinnati Gas & Electric Co. Reed Hartman was an integral part of both.

       The Citizens Development Committee supported the bond issues, and Reed was named as chairman of the committee to push them to victory.

       Cincinnati Unlimited was formed, and, as announced in the Post Times Star of April 25, 1962, Reed was elected President. The "goals and purposes" were set out as follows:

       "To furnish aggressive leadership in developing and promoting Cincinnati as one
       of the great cities of America).

       "To promote the growth of business) industry and commerce in the Greater Cincinnati area;

        "To encourage and support capital improvement and to seek public approval of such projects; and

 

      "To provide strength and unanimity of effort as a vital force in organizing civic
      and professional leaders."

       The job at hand, however, was passage of the bond issue on that November's ballot, and Reed Hartman threw his full energies behind that objective.

      Some $50,000 was raised in campaign funds; the combined help of the six top advertising agencies in the City solicited and obtained; and an extensive program launched. The redevelopment bond issues passed, and the first steps were taken in what has proved to be a major move forward: the beautification and public use of the riverfront, and the strong entry of Cincinnati into the national competition for large conventions.

      Three years later, when a revitalized Chamber of Commerce was brought into being, Cincinnati Unlimited was merged into the newly energized Chamber, "to serve as its promotional wing," as the Enquirer put it on January 9, 1965.

      Passage of the bonds, however, did not end Reed's concern with a convention hall. Mayor Walton Bachrach immediately appointed a 16-man advisory committee "to assist the City in determining the size, type, location and cost of facility required," according to the Cincinnati Enquirer, November 28, 1962. Reed Hartman was named chairman. The news account continues: "At its initial organization meeting yesterday the added obligation of recommending a method of management apparently was handed to the Committee by City Manager CA Harrell."

       The Enquirer story identifies Reed as chairman of the Property Owners' Association. This was a low key group made up of downtown property owners, the original purpose of which was stated by Charles F. Williams, then president, in its 1935 annual report. "The purpose of the organization," he wrote, was "to acquaint the public with the detailed facts as to taxation. The enlightened public opinion of the community has been relied upon to foster a general policy of economy and retrenchment during this critical economic period of our national life." By Reed's time it had assumed a more aggressive role, and actively supported projects which over the long-term would strengthen the values of downtown property - even when it meant, as in the case of the convention hall and riverfront, an increase in taxes. Soon after Hartman's presidency the organization dissolved, but occasionally thereafter the name was revived in what amounted to a one-man campaign of opposition to any tax levy whatever.

       The fact that Reed Hartman was president of Property Owners' Association and Cincinnati Unlimited, and chairman of the CDC committee on development, all of which sought to fill the promotional role then vacated by the Chamber of Commerce, is an indication of the leadership Reed exerted in civic affairs.

       Reed's entire business life was spent with The Cincinnati Gas & Electric Company. Born Joseph Reed Hartman in Cincinnati June 9, 1898, he attended Woodward High School and, in 1920, received a degree in Chemical Engineering from the University of Cincinnati. While at UC he participated in the student co-op program, alternating schooling with on-the-job experience in chemical engineering. On graduation he worked for two years with the old Globe Soap Company, and in August, 1923, was employed by CG&E as research engineer.

      Reed spent the next forty years with the company. "My first job," he said in the June, 1963 newspaper article, "was to study boiler-feed water treatment. That was at the West End electric generating station."

      He became Power Sales Engineer in 1926, manager of the Electric Sales Department in 1928, vice-president in 1946, and retired in 1963. He was made a director of the company in 1962. In his role as vice-president he was responsible for the Community relations, Electric Sales, Customer Service, Advertising and Media Services and Sales Promotion departments. In this position a role he had already adopted was formalized: that of leadership in the company's very active and influential participation in civic and public service projects.

      Speaking of this in the June Post & Times Star article, Reed says, "As a company, we have a selfish interest in the redevelopment of Cincinnati. As Cincinnati prospers, we prosper."

      Ruehlmann remembers Hartman's role when in the '60's Cincinnati underwent "a heck of a strike" of city employees. The City had raised police salaries by $1000 a year; this "turned off" the rest of the city employees, who demanded a similar increase. They had been out for four weeks or so when Reed called AI Bilik, head of the employee's union, and Mayor Ruehlmann to his office "to see if he couldn't persuade us to resolve the strike and get the employees back to work. He felt we were all reasonable people and should be able to find some solution.

      "The effort, though noble, was a total flop. The strike went on for six weeks," and was finally settled at a meeting of a labor lawyer, the City Manager and the Mayor at the Hotel Gibson.

      The incident is significant, however. It indicates the feeling of responsibility Reed had in trying to help in civic affairs, whatever the problem; it reveals also the man's faith in the reasonableness and goodness of his fellow man, his conviction that reason would prevail and his assumption that people basically were of good will.

       He was never afraid to support an issue just because it was controversial, according to James Wuenker, who worked with him at CG&E and was later executive vice-president of the Cincinnati Chamber of Commerce. "He was willing to take the heat." As an example, Wuenker recalls the furore over Fountain Square.

 

    The City had called in the Urban Land Institute, a Chicago firm of consultants on urban development. They sent in a team, made a study, and issued a report calling for an underground garage and the redesigning of the Square much as it appears today. The plan was highly controversial. Hartman was appointed chairman of the committee handling the matter and, Wuenker says, "took lots of flack on the Fountain Square garage." He rallied support and ushered the project through to completion.

         An example of his persuasiveness that is cited by Hilliard Fjord, former vice- president of Western-Southern Life Insurance Co. and executive vice-president of the Southern Ohio Bank, was a letter to the editor he wrote regarding the location of a stadium. The city was divided between those who wanted it on the riverfront, believing it would be a boon to downtown Cincinnati, and those who wanted to place it in Blue Ash or some other space well out of the city's congested areas. The latter felt the impact on downtown traffic before and after games would be devastating.

         "Reed turned the tide," Fjord believes. "Everybody was talking about taking the stadium out into the country. Reed wrote a letter to the editor that convinced everybody, including Governor Rhodes." Not everyone would agree with this appraisal, but it is typical that Reed would write such a letter, and it is undoubtedly true that his views had an impact.

          Inevitably Hartman played a leadership role in innumerable organizations. In the area of civic improvement, besides being president of the Property Owners' Association, president of Cincinnati Unlimited and chairman of the Convention Hall Advisory Committee, he was chairman of the board of the Fourth Street Area Association; trustee of the Better Housing League; member of the Committee on Central Business District of the Citizens' Development Committee; chairman of the Economic Development Committee of the Cincinnati Chamber of Commerce; chairman of the Mayor's Committee on Mass Transportation; trustee of the Better Business Bureau, and president of the Air Pollution League. The Enquirrr of January  9, 1965, lists among his accomplishments: he "organized an Ohio-Kentucky ~committee to bring about better cooperation and coordination between the Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky areas."

      When the Greater Cincinnati Foundation was established in 1963, to receive donations from individuals and make grants to help meet problems of the community, Reed was its assistant director. 

 

       He was a director and chairman of the public relations committee of the ;;, Hamilton County Y.M.C.A., and chairman of Health Careers Association of ~ Greater Cincinnati.

        He was nationally known in the industry through his work with the Edison 1_-

Electric Institute, where he served on the executive committee, and the Illuminating Engineering Society. He was a member of the National Committee, National Electrical Week. He was on the civic affairs committee, Engineering Society of Cincinnati.

      His church affiliations included Knox Presbyterian Church, where he was
member of session; Louisville Theological Seminary, director, and the Board of National Missions-Cincinnati Presbytery, member of the executive committee.

      In the Post & Times Star June 29, 1963 article, "Hartman admits he has spent 'an increasing amount of time on outside things. I usually carry a briefcase home to try to catch up on company business I couldn't get to during the day.' " Mer retirement he continued active. "I'm having a hard time trying to quit," he says in the same newspaper article.

       His club memberships included Rotary, of which he was president, Cincinnati Club, Co-operative Club, Masonic Order, Engineers Club and National Association of Power Engineers.

       Honors came in numbers. Early in 1963 he and City Manager CA. Harrell received citations at the annual Greater Cincinnati Business Conference at Xavier University for "their contributions to the growth and development of the city through such programs as the river front, expressways and urban renewal," as reported by the Post & Times Star of January 22, 1963.

       A month later Reed received an honorary life membership in the Federated Civic Association of Hamilton County. The award was presented by Mayor Walton H. Bachrach. And in 1968 he was given a double honor, simultaneously presented at the January 24 meeting of City Council: Council passed a resolution commending him for his many years of service on the City's behalf; and the Fourth Street Association gave him a "distinguished Citizen Award for his contribution to the progress of the Greater Cincinnati Area."

       Reed's strength, and his success, came from his willingness to put himself wholly behind a project or a cause. He was often the mediator, the catalyst, the one who through quiet reasoning found solutions to problems. "He was not forceful," Ruehlmann says; "he was persuasive, quietly persuasive."

       The word "quiet" keeps recurring when one talks of Reed. Jerry Hurter calls him "a low-key person. . . quiet. . . made friends quite easily, always low key, didn't seem to be pressing anybody." His wife, Edna Mae, says he was "very quiet", never dominated anyone. "People came to him for advice, rather than his going to them. . . He never pushed himself at anybody. If they wanted to know anything, they came to him."

        One asks how this quiet, low-key person, reluctant to push anyone into doing

anything, could have had such a successful career in sales. "That's a fooler in Reed Hartman," says Wuenker. "He was one of the best salesmen in the world." Wuenker cites his integrity, his sincerity, his earnestness as strong elements in his salesmanship. "He was positive in a quiet, persuasive way. Integrity was the key to it; he means what he says." As a sales-manager, "one of his strengths was to convince you that you have the ability to do more than you think you can." He was "good at drawing people out." "He always respected everybody for what they were," Wuenker says; he respected the position of senior officers, but he had respect also for the person "with the broom in hand."

      As CG&E executive, he "masterminded some difficult times." One that Wuenker recalls was when Middletown was seriously considering going to a municipal utility operation. Armco was an important customer of CG&E's, and the Company viewed with alarm the loss of this business. It was Hartman who persuaded them not to proceed. "He didn't go to war, but quietly defined the issues, and reached concurrence on what was best for all parties." Salesmanship at its best.

      His success as a prime mover on community problems rested in part on his strength as "a consensus builder. He had firm convictions, but never forced his will on others. He made sure people understood what the right answer might be." He "had wonderful patience, allowed the process to exhaust itself. He felt you don't have to solve the problem yourself, but you know who the key people are, you closet them, and you get it done. . . He knew the right people to bring into a situation, did a lot of'networking', getting people to the table." Not seeking personal credit added to his effectiveness; "he never sought plaudits for himself, just did what he thought was right."

      He was "very well organized," according to Wuenker. His desk would be piled with papers, "but he knew precisely where everything was." He "knew what the priorities were for the day." In the middle of a conversation he would be interrupted by a lengthy phone conversation; "he would come back and pick up right where he left off. None of this, 'Let's see, where were we?' "

      One of the reasons he was able to participate in so many activities, Wuenker feels, is the fact that "He had a way of getting to the issue very quickly." Reed's widow adds, he was not a worrier. "He'd made a decision, and that was it."

      He was not apt to lose his temper, Edna Mae observes, but thoughtfully adds, "If he ever did, you'd better get out of the way!" Then quickly: "he had a beautiful disposition - kind, gentle, loving."

      Reed and Edna Mae Ludwick met when he was superintendent of Sunday School at the little Calvary Presbyterian Church on Linwood Avenue, later absorbed into Knox Presbyterian. She was a school teacher, but had studied voice at the Conservatory of Music, "back when it was so beautiful," and was a soloist in the church. Her father was from Holland, and they lived in Indian Hill. Reed had just left Globe Soap Company and gone with CG&E, and Edna Mae continued to teach school for three years. They lived in a house that belonged to her father.

      They had "a very special relationship," Wuenker comments, using the words "fidelity" and "devotion" and "working together to enhance their relationship."

      There was never any question what Reed's hobbies were: woodworking and gardening. They belonged to a couple of country clubs, Edna Mae says, but "he never was a very good golfer. He would rather work in his workshop." He was a "good tennis player". Her aunt had a cottage at Epworth Heights, near Loveland, where there was a Presbyterian camp. He'd play on the tennis court there. But he had "quite a workshop" in the basement of their home on Hayward avenue, with much electrical equipment. He made toys, mostly, for the grandchildren - and a handsome toy-box to keep them in. His daughter, Marcia Seifried, their only child, still has it in her home in Washington Courthouse. He had taken manual training in "the old Woodward High School", and was "talented that way." He would work there Saturdays and evenings, when he could finish his briefcase full of work in time. He "certainly enjoyed it."

      And gardening. They found a bit of property in Indian Hill where he could have a vegetable garden - and during World War II they gardened extensively. Even when they moved to the nineteenth floor of the Regency Apartments because lingering cancer meant he could no longer go up and down stairs, "he still had to have his garden," Edna Mae says. "He had boxes of geraniums all around him."

      On retiring, Reed said he hoped to travel, particularly in the Pacific Northwest. They did get to Canada and to California, shortly after his retirement. He traveled, Edna Mae reports, "but not as much as he ever wanted to. He had things to do."

       He did have things to do. All his life. His obituary in the Cincinnati Post Times-Star, March 27,1969, calls him "one of the City's most active civic leaders." It goes on, "Mr. Hartman retired from CG&E in 1963, but retirement did little to quell his activities to improve his native city."

       Someone wrote the Enquirer Magazine with a question that appears in the February 3,1980 edition: "I drive 1-275 every day and pass the exit to Reed Hartman Highway. Who was Reed Hartman, anyway?" The question is revealing... and the answer is a good summary of his contribution. Calling him "fanner of the flames of development and 'civic progress' during the 50s and early '60s," it goes on:

       "There was hardly a civic organization with which Hartman wasn't affiliated but he was best remembered for his relentless campaign to alert Cincinnati's business community to civic problems. He pushed for development of the Riverfront, the building of the convention center, urban renewal, and the creation of more downtown parking. He won practically every civic and service award the city had to offer before his death on March 26, 1969."

      Jim Wuenker said, "He was my mentor." Asked, "What did he teach you?" he replied, "That integrity counts in business. He was a very strong Christian gentleman who lived his beliefs at work. He taught me that integrity does count in the workplace."

      That is a fitting note on which to close a review of Reed Hartman.
    

(With permission of the author.)