Last Thursday, October 25, Mayor Tom Potter finally managed
to do what weeks of meetings and behind-the-scenes negotiations failed
to: He brought both sides of the Interstate/Chávez street rename
debate together—in stunned silence as he stormed out of a council
hearing.
“I am irrelevant,” Potter said as he left, angry that the other
three men at the dais—Commissioners Erik Sten, Sam Adams, and
Randy Leonard—were eking out a deal that would provide more
process to the street rename, which Potter was solidly against. Because
he was now in the voting minority, he was largely left out of the
conversation. So he walked out.
As has been widely reported, his colleagues on the council, as well
as staffers in the building, described themselves as “stunned.” Sten,
especially, was shocked, since he was in the process of trying to work
out a compromise that would have had full—or nearly
full—support from the council.
“I’m trying to find a way to work with you, and you’re walking out
on this discussion?” Sten asked Potter, to no avail.
“I’m a little stunned by the mayor walking out when I was about to
support his position, but it makes it difficult to support his position
if he’s not here,” he added.
The walkout threw the Interstate/Chávez process up into the
air. The three remaining commissioners agreed to return with a new
process on November 14, one day before Potter had scheduled an
up-or-down vote on renaming Interstate to honor César E.
Chávez.
But there are larger questions lingering—like what impact
Potter’s walkout will have on his ability to be effective through the
last year of his term. Given that he’s already a “lame duck” mayor
(since he’s not running for reelection), will the incident push him
even further to the outside of his council colleagues? Will policy
advocates shy away from approaching his office, going instead to other
commissioners who might have a better chance at negotiating majority
support for their cause?
According to numerous city hall insiders, the short answer is
no—not because Potter’s influence and authority have remained
intact, but because his influence and authority have never really been
much on display.
In fact, some city staffers see Potter’s walkout last week as
perfectly in step with his style thus far; as one person said, Potter
has a reputation for being willing to negotiate and compromise only
until he stops getting his way. His blowup in council chamber was
simply a public display of his longstanding political style.
The following year will probably bring much reflection from the
public and pundits on Potter’s term as mayor; his recent actions will
give them an excuse to view his term through a popular lens—that
he was never able to reconcile the political requirements of Portland’s
city council, in which the mayor is only one leader among five equals,
with his long career as a police officer and a police chief. As police
chief, Potter was able to give orders, and subordinates could either
follow his commands or get out of the way. As mayor of Portland,
however, one still has to secure two other votes in order to win any
policy debate—and that typically requires deft political skills
and the ability to negotiate compromises with equals.
Most city hall denizens think Potter’s blowup will blow over, and
that little will change in the coming weeks. Policy advocates will
still want to talk to him, but, as one staffer says, “He never talked
to them anyway. They’d talk to his staff, but he doesn’t listen to his
staff either.”