Tetons

I’m penning this from our deck overlooking the Teton mountain range in Jackson, Wyoming. You see, wanderlust 2026 continues.

After busying ourselves with fly fishing on the Snake River, rafting, horseback riding, and touring Grand Teton and Yellowstone national parks, there hasn’t been much time for reflection.
But this area is a fascinating case study in what can happen when public purpose and private enterprise work together.

Much has been written about the negative consequences when government and private business join hands on a project. And for good reason. Taxpayers can assume the risk while private interests reap the rewards. Political influence can replace market discipline.

But the Tetons offer another side of that story.

One of the best examples dates to the 1920s.

John D. Rockefeller Jr. visited the area and became concerned that commercial development would permanently alter the landscape surrounding the Teton range. Through the Snake River Land Company, Rockefeller quietly began acquiring ranches and other private holdings with the intention of ultimately preserving the land.

Over time, approximately 35,000 acres were assembled and eventually donated to the federal government, helping form a significant portion of what became the expanded Grand Teton National Park.

Think about that.

Private capital acquired fragmented parcels from willing sellers. Government ultimately became the steward. The public received the lasting benefit.

It wasn’t without controversy. Local ranchers, politicians and others opposed federal control, and the process took years. But more than a century later, the result is difficult to argue with as you stare across this extraordinary landscape.

The same public-private relationship continues today in a different form.

Government protects the resource and establishes the rules. But much of the visitor experience is provided by private enterprise.

Our fly-fishing guide doesn’t work for the federal government. Neither do many of the people taking visitors rafting, horseback riding or sightseeing. Lodges, outfitters, restaurants, retailers and transportation companies provide services to millions of visitors drawn here by a publicly protected resource.

There are guardrails, however.

Private businesses aren’t free to develop the Tetons however they please. There are permits, environmental protections and restrictions on use.

And perhaps that is the lesson.

Successful public-private partnerships shouldn’t ask government to become a business or business to become government. Each should do what it does best.

Government can protect resources, establish standards, provide infrastructure and take the long view.
Private enterprise can provide capital, innovation, competition, efficiency and customer service.
Commercial real estate offers plenty of parallels. We see public-private cooperation in redevelopment districts, infrastructure improvements, brownfield remediation, transportation projects and adaptive reuse.

Some work beautifully. Others become expensive cautionary tales.

The difference often comes down to structure. Who bears the risk? Who receives the benefit? Are incentives aligned? Is there transparency and accountability? Most importantly, does the public investment create a broader public benefit?

Looking across the Tetons, I’m reminded that public-private partnerships aren’t inherently good or bad.

They’re tools.

Used poorly, they can distort markets and waste taxpayer dollars. Used properly, with clearly defined roles and the right guardrails, they can accomplish something neither side could accomplish alone.
John D. Rockefeller Jr. saw something here worth preserving.
Private capital helped secure it. Public stewardship protected it.

A century later, we’re still enjoying the return on that investment.
 
Allen C. Buchanan, SIOR, is a principal with Lee & Associates Commercial Real Estate Services in Orange. He can be reached at abuchanan@lee-associates.com or 714.564.7104. His website is allencbuchanan.blogspot.com.
 
  

What Would Our Industrial Market Look Like Without Anduril?

I have watched, with interest, the evolution of a company in Orange County: Anduril.
 
If you are unfamiliar with the name, you are not alone. They have quietly become one of the true industrial market movers.
 
With a growing footprint in Santa Ana, Costa Mesa and Irvine, a massive campus under construction near Long Beach Airport, and a huge bet on Columbus, Ohio, the company has single-handedly changed our Class A vacancy picture.
 
Factor in all of the supporting companies that provide component parts to Anduril, and you have the industrial demand drivers we have been missing for the past four years.
 
So, how would our industrial market be different without Anduril, I wondered?
 
Bear with me as I reason this with you.
 
First, take away the space.
 
That alone would matter. Anduril has absorbed, and is continuing to absorb, a substantial amount of industrial and flex space in Orange County and beyond. Remove that demand from the equation and the vacancy picture changes immediately. Buildings that are occupied today would still be sitting on the market. Buildings that are under construction would have a much harder time finding their next user. And some of the newer Class A product that has benefited from this demand would be facing a much softer leasing environment.
 
But that is only part of the story.
 
The bigger issue is what I would call industrial gravity.
 
When a company like Anduril grows, it does not grow alone. It creates a pull. Suppliers follow. Contractors follow. Specialized service firms follow. Engineers, fabricators, technology vendors and support companies begin to cluster around the core business. One company’s expansion becomes a broader ecosystem of demand.
 
That matters because industrial real estate does not just respond to one user. It responds to the network around that user.
 
Without Anduril, much of that network would either not exist here or would be significantly smaller. The knock-on effect would be felt in leasing, in absorption, in new development and in overall market confidence.
 
And that is really the key word: confidence.
 
For the past four years, industrial brokers, landlords and developers have been asking the same question in different forms: where is the next real demand?
 
We have had plenty of macro stories. E-commerce was huge. Logistics remained active. Some reshoring took place. Port-related activity continued to support the region. But the market still needed a fresh, meaningful demand driver, something beyond the usual suspects.
 
Anduril has become that driver.
 
What makes the company especially interesting is that it is not simply a traditional industrial user. It sits at the intersection of advanced manufacturing, defense technology, engineering and software. That combination is important because it fits Southern California better than many people might assume. We have the talent. We have the aerospace and manufacturing heritage. We have the suppliers. We have the universities. We have the ports. We have the infrastructure.
 
In other words, we have the ingredients for this kind of company to thrive.
 
If Anduril had been founded somewhere else, the industrial market here would almost certainly look different. Vacancy would be a higher. Leasing velocity would be a slower. Some of the supporting companies that now orbit around Anduril might be located in another state. And perhaps most importantly, we would have one less example of a major growth company choosing Southern California for advanced manufacturing.
 
That matters.
 
Because one company like this can have a multiplier effect that is far greater than the square footage it occupies. One large requirement can lead to many smaller ones. One anchor tenant can create a reason for others to follow. One expanding company can help establish the credibility of an entire submarket.
 
So when I ask myself what our industrial market would look like without Anduril, the answer is simple: weaker.
 
Not broken. Not empty. But weaker.
 
And in a market where every bit of demand matters, that difference is significant.
 
Anduril has not solved every challenge in Southern California industrial real estate. No single company can. But it has helped fill a gap that we have been missing for some time. It has brought real absorption, real construction, real supporting demand and real optimism to the market.
 
That is not a small thing.
 
Sometimes the most important companies in a market are not the loudest ones. They are the ones quietly changing the numbers, changing the conversation and changing what people believe is possible.
 
Anduril has done exactly that.
 
Allen C. Buchanan, SIOR, is a principal with Lee & Associates Commercial Real Estate Services in Orange. He can be reached at abuchanan@lee-associates.com or 714.564.7104. His website is allencbuchanan.blogspot.com.
 
 

The Unintended Consequences of Writing a Book

When I published The SEQUENCE a year ago, I thought I knew what would happen.

 I hoped a few commercial real estate professionals would buy the book, find value in it, and perhaps improve their careers. I expected it to generate a conversation or two, maybe even a speaking engagement.

What I didn’t expect were the unintended consequences.

Writing a book has very little to do with selling books. Instead, it accelerated my credibility.

Fellow brokers no longer asked, “How long have you been in the business?” They simply assumed I had something worth saying. Conference organizers began calling. Podcast invitations appeared in my inbox. Brokers from across the country contacted me. Not to discuss a transaction, but to discuss a concept. 

The book opened doors that years of production alone never had. 

More surprising was what it did for me. 

Writing forces clarity. You cannot hide behind vague ideas when they’re staring back at you from a blank page. Every principle had to survive the question: “Would I stake my reputation on this?” If the answer wasn’t yes, it didn’t make the manuscript. 

The result wasn’t just a better book. It was a better framework for how I train new professionals, mentor younger brokers, and even evaluate my own decisions. 

Then came the biggest surprise. 

The book wasn’t the destination. It was the foundation. 

It has evolved into training programs, keynote presentations, workshops, interviews, articles, and conversations I never could have imagined when I typed the first chapter. Ideas that once lived only in my head now have a life of their own. 

That’s the funny thing about creating something meaningful. You think you’re producing a product. In reality, you’re building a platform. 

Whether you’re in commercial real estate, law, accounting, architecture, or any profession built on expertise, don’t underestimate the value of capturing what you’ve learned. It doesn’t have to be a book. It could be a series of articles, a newsletter, a podcast, or a class. 

The act of organizing your knowledge changes you. Sharing it changes how others see you. 

The unintended consequence isn’t that people begin viewing you as an expert. 

It’s that you finally become intentional about the expertise you’ve been building all along. 

Allen C. Buchanan, SIOR, is a principal with Lee & Associates Commercial Real Estate Services in Orange. He can be reached at abuchanan@lee-associates.com or 714.564.7104. His website is allencbuchanan.blogspot.com.