What do we get when we pass a tax levy? Look up.

With the proposed tax levies for the Eugene Public Library and the Lane County Extension Service on the upcoming May election ballot, some voters might ask, “What do I get for my money?” 

It’s a fair question, one that certainly must have been asked almost 90 years ago, during the worst economic time in American history, when voters in Eugene were asked to look beyond their immediate needs. You might be surprised at what they did. 

It was 1937. Times had been tough for the entire decade. Jobs were scarce, businesses closed and money was so tight that sometimes the only choice was barter. 

That year, a piece of land came up for sale: 240 acres with a grand view, lots of trees and natural springs that were the sources for three different streams. The owner had an offer from a private party who wanted to log off the trees and set up a giant pasture for goats. 

Then a group headed by a former mayor — Francis Marion Wilkins, then 90 years old — proposed that the city buy the land and turn it into a park. But this was the Great Depression, and even a former mayor couldn’t find a bank to lend the money.

A committee was formed to solicit donations, headed by a young future U.S. senator named Wayne Morse. They launched a campaign to raise a down payment of $1,000 on the $7,000 total. But they added a twist by setting a limit of $5 per person, so that everyone who wanted to could “buy a piece” of the land.

The city’s two newspapers, The Register-Guard and the Daily News, ran articles on the land’s history, geology, plant and animal life and potential for recreation. They kept a daily tally of the contributions, some coming in the amount of 1 cent.

The landowner’s representative dropped the asking price to $500 less than the goat owner’s offer, calling it his contribution to the campaign. On the final day, with the funds just $100 short of the goal, an anonymous “elderly gentleman” posted a bond to guarantee the fund. 

In just one week, the full amount was raised and a contract signed.

But the city still needed the remaining $6,000 to complete the purchase. So city officials put a measure on the May 1938 primary election ballot, asking Eugene residents to approve a tax to pay for the park. A new publicity campaign called on the area’s citizens to consider the long-term benefits for their children and grandchildren. The Daily News printed a letter from Wilkins, the former mayor, on its front page. The choice was clear, Wilkins said: “A logged-off and ruined old landmark” or “a park for our people, generation after generation.”

The measure passed with more than 60% of the vote. In the depths of the Great Depression, a city of 20,000 residents voted to tax themselves for the benefit of future generations.

That piece of land is today one of the crown jewels of Eugene’s park system, rising up south of town.

We call it Spencer Butte.

So when your ballot comes this May, asking you to support our city library or maintain our county extension service, look up at that hill south of town. 

Look up at Spencer Butte and ask what kind of society we want to be: a park at the top of the hill, or a mowed down field? 

Look up at Spencer Butte Park and see what was possible from our forebears. We have only to ask what is possible from ourselves.