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On Feb. 1, former Portland Mayor Bud Clark died. His 1984 upset triumph over then-Mayor Frank Ivancie was a watershed moment in Portland politics, declaring the Rose City as idiosyncratic, neighborhood-driven and attentive to citizens as Clark himself. A month before Clark’s victory, this profile ran on the cover of the April 9, 1984 edition of WW.
It is 7:30 in the morning at Bud Clark’s house in Northwest Portland. Dew still moistens the shaggy lawn and clings to the edges of the tilting “Bud Clark for Mayor!” lawn sign. Grass curls over the walk and stretches toward the long, Victorian porch where two wooden canoes rest for the spring. From the outside, all seems quiet at the three-story house, which Clark bought in 1968 for only $22,500. But the morning calm is deceptive. After a ring of the buzzer, Clark suddenly fills the doorway with his extended arms, bushy beard and wide smile. “Good morning!” he booms. “Come on in.” If his grin is remarkably genuine for such an early hour, his appearance is positively engaging.
Clark’s burly frame is covered in a faded blue cotton nightshirt that dips to his knees, exposing white boxer shorts. His feet are thrust into soft, well-worn slippers; his coarse, silvery hair is matted in swirls at the crown. “Come in, come in,” he repeats heartily, as he pads off toward the inviting smells of coffee, ham and hash browns. Not one to shuck his family duties, the 52-year-old father of four still has lunches to make and eggs to fry for his school-age kids. As he expertly dices a raw potato and drops it into the black skillet, it’s obvious that his years as cook, bartender and owner of the Goose Hollow Inn have honed his hash-slinging skills.
He reaches for oil among the clutter of spices, utensils, pots, plants, pictures, toasters, and an occasional bottle of peppersauce turned upside down to coax out the last drop. Much like Clark, the kitchen is functional, homey and swirling with activity. The house is comfortable and lived in, patched from basement to top deck with Clark’s own brand of add-on carpentry. It’s also surprisingly predictable — exactly the kind of house you would expect Bud Clark, the Portland institution, to live in.
Bud Clark is running for mayor.
That’s no longer a surprise to most people who’ve seen his billboards and newly planted lawn signs. What is a surprise is how much interest his grass-roots, populist campaign has generated. According to his campaign staff, nearly 800 Portlanders have offered their help in what is being billed as the “People’s” campaign. Many civic activists have lent their names to the campaign stationery. And nearly everyone who considers the Goose Hollow Inn their second home discusses Clark’s candidacy with optimism.
Although still considered the dark horse in a difficult race, the amiable businessman who founded The Neighbor newspaper and served on the Northwest District Association is slowly gaining ground in the mayoral contest as it nears the May 15 primary. A recent poll conducted by Tim Hibbitts. of T.H. Research, revealed that Clark may make a surprise showing in May. According to Hibbitts, Mayor Frank Ivancie could not command support from 50 percent of the 310 registered voters polled in early March. Though the sampling was not a large one and many other political strategists seriously doubt that Clark will threaten Ivancie’s incumbency, the poll indicates that the mayor may have trouble garnering the majority of votes he will need (50 percent plus one vote) to win the primary and avoid a runoff in the November general election. (Aside from Clark and Ivancie, there are four challengers in the race: Norman Berberick, Jeff Liddicoat, Joe Kear, and Stan Kahn.)
“At this point, Clark is certainly the most credible challenger to Ivancie,” explains Hibbitts. “There’s a lot yet to be done — Clark’s got a very large obstacle to overcome. But if he gets the money and organization, he can present a credible campaign. In my business, I’ve seen that almost anything can happen. And from what I know of Clark, he has the type of personality that will catch on with people.”
Others agree. “He is a very spirited individual and a very charismatic person,” says Dean Smith, an administrative aide to Commissioner Margaret Strachan who also served with with Clark on the Goose Hollow Foothills League. “He’s savvy and sensitive. I think he would master the job of mayor and would be a sincere and compassionate leader.”
Like others who know Clark well, Smith argues that the contender’s lack of political experience should not be viewed as grounds to dismiss him as a serious candidate. Instead, they point to his vast network of friends and business associates throughout the community who have grown to respect the man who helped organize the first years of Neighborfair, delivered Meals on Wheels for 11 years, and served on the boards of Planned Parenthood, the Waterway Advisory Committee and the United Way’s Policy Development Committee. Clark also owns Forsstrom & Clark’s Canoes and Mother Goose Antiques; combined with revenues from his tavern on Southwest Jefferson Street, he generates more than $500,000 in business a year.
His friends claim that Clark has served his community without seeking recognition. “He has a very strong attitude about the city and has been active in a variety of quiet, largely unnoticed and probably unappreciated ways,” says Smith. “He’s used his businesses to help neighborhood causes and has always been one to roll up his sleeves and step in rather than just toss in some money.”
Many predict that Clark’s appeal “to the little guy” will capture the voter’s imagination, just as Ron Wyden did in his 1980 upset victory over Congressman Bob Duncan. In the minds of some optimistic Portlanders, Clark will be able to make a strong showing by calling upon the citywide network of neighborhood associations, just as Strachan did in her surprisingly successful 1982 race for the City Council. Even Commissioner Mildred Schwab agrees that, “If anybody has a chance to pull Frank into a runoff. Clark has it, although I think Frank will take it in the primary.”
Clark is widely described as a “man of his word” who generally follows through on most of his ventures. He is disarmingly candid and has a penchant for folksy sayings and colorful stories. (Without blinking, he tells visitors to his house, “This was a whorehouse when we bought it.”) He has not tried to play down his identity as a tavern owner, and is quick to claim that his small establishment pumps more beer per square foot than any other tavern in the country.
At home. Clark is surrounded by his large family and a collection of pets, pianos, paintings, antiques, canoes, books, carpets, bikes, and old toasters. Books are piled on the floor and jammed into the overflowing bookshelf, where Ibsen’s plays crowd next to The Open Society and Its Enemies. Clark’s wife. Sigrid, who manages the tavern and the antique store, is a violinist with the Oregon Symphony. Her 23-year-old son from a previous marriage, David, lives with the couple, along with the their three younger children: Jason, 19; Rachael, 17; and Nicolas, 13. (Bud Clark and Sigrid were married in 1964, after the death of Clark’s first wife, who was killed in an automobile accident.)
They are a boisterous, close family, and supportive of Clark’s decision to seek the mayoral post. Acutely aware of the enormous challenge facing Clark, they seem to understand that much of his popularity is apparently fueled by people’s desire to back an underdog. Moreover, although Ivancie has traditionally attracted strong support among the the city’s elderly and blue-collar workers, he has alienated many other residents, particularly those in the neighborhood associations.
However, those pockets of unpopularity, which Portland pollsters chart at about 40 percent of the voting public, are probably not enough to threaten the incumbent. For one thing, Ivancie’s east Portland supporters tend to turn out in force on election day. For another, it’s been 28 years since an incumbent Portland City Council member has been defeated by an outsider. In addition, the mayor has a proven record when it comes to earning campaign money, particularly from his strong supporters in the business community. Pitted against this fundraising ability, which netted about $232,000 in Ivancie’s 1980 race against then-incumbent Mayor Connie McCready, Clark’s $60,000 war chest appears paltry.
Furthermore, Clark is unknown to many Portlanders. When asked, people who don’t frequent the Goose Hollow Inn or know Clark through the neighborhood associations say they know little about him except that he sports a beard and is “supposed to be a nice guy.” His image as a merry-maker is well entrenched in Portland’s mind, but his image as a serious businessman is not. Because his campaign has been underfunded and slow to surface, many fear that his image as a serious candidate will not develop in time to force a runoff with Ivancie. As advertising consultant Jackie Hallock puts it, “We gossiped about his campaign last night at dinner, but the gossip only lasted 30 seconds.”
Some people who know Clark are afraid that his limited political and business experience would hinder his ability to lead the city. “I think Bud has a good feeling for planning in general and would open up the political process,” says architect George “Bing” Sheldon, “but his weaknesses would be a lack of administrative experience. Bud’s background is far different than the job in question.” But Clark is convinced he can handle the job, and assumes that other people will soon be convinced, too.
BUDDING IDEAS
“I’m a born-again pagan,” Clark chuckles during an interview. “You probably shouldn’t print that, but I just don’t believe there’s a private heaven for me. I’m an agnostic.” He shrugs, fingering the new, beige wool suit he has just bought for the campaign. A yellow rose is clipped to the left lapel and the now-familiar “Bud Clark is Serious” button dangles from the right.
He begins to elaborate on his religious views, but stops himself with the realization that, “I really don’t know what’s out there. It’s so big and I’m in awe of it. That’s all I know.” He was not raised in a religious family, but was influenced by Oregon sheep ranchers on his grandmother’s side and farmers on his father’s side. Born of Dutch, Scottish, Irish and Swedish ancestors, the 5-foot-10, 180-pound populist says he was born in Idaho, but conceived in Oregon, which in his eyes makes him a bona fide, fifth-generation Oregonian.
As a youth, Clark moved back to Portland with his mother, who was by then divorced from his father, and went through the city’s school system. He attended Shattuck Grade School, where the Portland State University campus now stands, and later went to Couch School in Northwest Portland and Glencoe School on Mt. Tabor. “We moved every two years,” he offers by way of explaining his firm desire to stay rooted. He eventually attended Lincoln High School, where he became a yell leader and was chosen for his first and only elected office — sophomore class president. Two years later, in 1949, he was graduated.
After school, he then drifted between classes at Vanport (the precursor of Portland State) and Oregon State College, and did a three-year stint with the Marine Corps. Once back in Portland, he attended Reed College, where he majored in psychology. Within two years he discovered that his working-class background left him unimpressed with the subject. “It was full of bull——,” he explains. He left to undertake his own pest-control business.
“I think I became a beatnik about then,” he adds with a grin. Later he worked in restaurants, opening the Spaten Haus before moving to the Goose Hollow Inn in 1967.
Today, few would call him a beatnik, although his popular neighborhood bar is probably the most iconoclastic meeting place in town. Political discussions there are just about as thick as the air’s unfiltered smoke, which got so dense in years past that Clark declared Mondays a non-smoking night. The one-night nicotine moratorium has since been lifted, but serves as an example of his sense of civic duty. He also imposed an impromptu ban on Anheuser Busch beer and the Columbia Distributing Co. in 1982, when he learned that the companies had criticized Oregon’s Bottle Bill and participated in a misleading campaign against the introduction of a similar bill in California. More recently, the portly politician says he has imposed a ban on his own consumption of beer, so as to undertake the grueling campaign. Since he joined the race in December. Clark, who calls himself a “fiscally conservative humanitarian,” has unveiled a mixed bag of political views that tend to reinforce his image as a populist who believes that less government is better — as long as the needs of citizens are being met. He is a registered Republican, although he says he will soon register as an Independent. He strongly admires former Mayor Neil Goldschmidt, scorns Ivancie’s “contentious” leadership, and, among the present City Council members, aligns himself most closely with the fiscally conservative Schwab. On the national level, Clark says he will consider supporting Gary Hart for President, “But I might even vote for Jesse Jackson. What the hell!”
That is typical Clark. He can be irreverent and daring, or downright dogmatic. He can also be casual to a fault, say those who fear that he will not address many of the city’s important issues seriously enough, if he i elected. During interviews, for example, he can seem unconcerned with details and uncertain about some of the city’s more pressing issues. But on other subjects he is well informed, and frequently innovative in hi approach to solving problems. He is eloquent when discussing his goals for increased citizen participation at City Hall, saying, “Government’s goal should be to serve the people, not hinder them. Now, if you take something to City Hall, they treat you like a dog. They should have manners and respect for the citizen because they are the riches of the city.” To increase citizen involvement, he says he would strengthen the neighborhood associations and draw more residents into the planning process.
He also favors a strong planning department, and enthusiastically endorses Strachan’s Central City planning effort to develop a new, comprehensive plan that focuses on the downtown core and the major districts around it. “Planning is needed so that, as the city expands, we can maintain our livability.” he says. “Portland must remain a city where citizens look you in the eye when you’re walking down the street.” He supports some flexibility in the planning process, but feels that, once a plan is adopted, it should be adhered to. (He opposes the proposed 27-story British Pacific building on a waterfront lot that the city has designated a view corridor.)
Economic development is also an important theme in Clark’s campaign, and one of the areas in which he has detailed proposals for improvement. “My intention is to make sure Portland is in service to the small businessman,” he explains. “I will expand the economic development agency, create a capital fund for investment capital for businesses and create a citywide credit union to provide access to cheaper capital.” He believes that industrial and agri-business development of the newly annexed South Shore area on the Columbia River is vital to Portland’s continued growth. Furthermore, he supports the city’s efforts to absorb most of mid-Multnomah County in order to strengthen Portland’s economic base and provide more services to the residents there. But he does not admire the city’s hurried approach, which he believes has thwarted citizen participation.
Borrowing the idea from downtown developer Bill Naito, Clark strongly endorses the return of a world’s fair to Portland. He believes that the city’s image as a livable city rich in natural resources (and near the Pacific Rim countries) would help stabilize the economy. “When Seattle held its world’s fair,” he says, “we lost our prime position in the region.” He argues that a world’s fair would generate a convention center, which he believes would contribute significantly to the city’s economy.
Law-enforcement issues are also on Clark’s political agenda. He would shift police resources to the neighborhoods, where he believes burglary is the city’s most serious crime problem. He would create more neighborhood precincts, and jokingly adds, “If an officer hangs out at the Quality Pie in Northwest Portland, then let’s make Q.P. the neighborhood headquarters.” In addition, he argues that more foot, horse and even bicycle patrols are needed to increase citizen contact and restore the trust he thinks has been eroded between Portland citizens and the police bureau. “The bureau’s gotten better,” he says, “and I feel officers have more pride in their work. But they ought to increase that eye contact rather than take the tank [car] approach.” Because he believes officers often “overreact,” he refuses to summon them to his tavern when trouble erupts. “They misinterpret the situation,” he says, “and increase the problem.”
Clark is one of the few people in Portland strongly opposed publicly to the jail levy, which voters will confront in the May primary. “Absolutely not,” he stresses. “When I get in office, there’s not going to be the need for as much space. I’m going to put people back to work.” That may be wishful thinking on the candidate’s part, but Clark insists that he would create a Youth Conservation Corps to employ young people, who commit a majority of Portland’s crimes. He would also encourage the Park Bureau and businesses to help sponsor social functions for kids. “We’ll have live music, we’ll minimize the alcohol and, hopefully, eliminate the drugs.”
On other issues facing the Portland City Council, he is most adamant about his support for comparable worth. For a man who runs what is considered by many to be one of the city’s more chauvinistic bars, Clark’s views on women’s issues are surprisingly progressive. About comparable worth, he says, “Let’s do it now. The longer you put it off, the more it’s going to cost.” About abortion, he says, “It’s ridiculous not to have it legal.”
And last, but not least, Clark talks about the mayor’s role. He leans forward and grins, “I’m going to be the salesman for the City of Portland,” he says. “That’s my most important function. The city also needs to have a feeling of pride in the person in office. They need to say, That’s my mayor. That’s Bud Clark.’”
IS BUD WISER?
That’s easy for Clark to say. But, as noted earlier, he has an enormous amount of ground to cover in the next five weeks if he is to survive the primary. Thus far, he has hired an advertising agency, Cramer Hulse & Associates, to handle his media campaign. The firm not only has to familiarize Portlanders with Clark’s personality, accomplishments and goals for the city, but must also distinguish its candidate from the other challengers. So far, is has splashed Clark’s name across billboards and lawn signs, but, according to critics, has not begun to combat Ivancie aggressively.
From the agency’s point of view, Pam Hulse argues that the campaign’s main goal is to “get people to know Bud. We’re trying to be cautious and build him up.” According to campaign manager Ben Padrow, a speech professor at Portland State University. the strategy is to increase the radio campaign through April and send up to 100,000 brochures to motivated voters. In addition to phone banks, he says, 1,200 lawn signs will be placed throughout the city.
Furthermore, says Padrow, Clark is “going after labor’s endorsement” and has already talked with Sam Gillispie of the American Federation of State-County & Municipal Employees, which represents 950 city employees. And Gillispie is responsive. “We’ve definitely had some concerns with the present mayor,” Gillispie told Willamette Week. “He has been inaccessible and has a real arrogant staff. Basically, he has forgotten where he comes from.” In contrast, he says, Clark has “some impressive people working for him. I told him if he did well on May 15, we’d look closely at him. I think there’s a strong possibility there will be a runoff.”
It’s no secret that Gillispie and Ivancie have a long history of feuding at City Hall, and the labor spokesman may be one of the few union leaders to consider endorsing Clark. But his comments underscore Clark’s credibility as a candidate. Furthermore.Clark has several well-known people on his steering committee, including Ken Lewis, president of Lasco Shipping and a former Port of Portland Commissioner and George Lee, former budget manager for the Department of Environmental Quality and former executive assistant to Commissioner Schwab.
Their efforts, combined with Clark’s charisma, could turn this year’s race into a serious, late sprint for the mayor’s seat.
“There is no leadership at City Hall,” Clark concludes. “Frank even said it himself recently. After 3 years, he’s now telling people that we need new blood with a different direction. Well,” he chuckles, “I’m that new blood and that different direction.”