Scenes from a Strange CRC Cocktail Party

• University Club: Doorway to posh.

Wednesday night I entered a realm where few have tread: An exclusive cocktail hour with the Director of the Columbia River Crossing (CRC), Richard Brandman.

Reader Barry Hawkey is a member of Portland’s posh University Club (he also owns a Ferrari, ladies), saw the lecture on the club’s monthly calendar and asked if I wanted to come along for the experience. Hearing how the CRC is pitched to the city’s elite? Of course!

The University Club is an old boys club with impressive digs in downtown Portland. The doorman is black. The drinks are strong. Membership is $180 a month (by invitation only). The interior of the club itself has sort of a Heathman Hotel feel, it’s a musty dignified place where, Barry informed me, if your cell phone goes off you owe everyone in the room a drink.

We slipped downstairs and into the meeting room where Brandman was giving the standard Powerpoint lecture on the big bridge. Someone poured me a greyhound and I took in the familiar slides of tolling and planning timelines.

The presentation was the same straight pitch the CRC staff gives at numerous neighborhood meetings and public functions. The pitch focuses on the failures of the current bridge (the crash a day that occurs in the stretch, the bike/ped path where both a bike and a ped can’t fit at the same time, the fact that it holds the only stoplight on the I-5 from Canada to Mexico) and the projected benefits of the project (staff says it will reduce congestion by 70 percent and create 20,000 jobs).

“We wanted the design to be attractive but not extravagant, not something that you’d walk away from saying, ‘There goes government again…'” said Brandman (who, if you recall, earns $16,250 a month).

What really struck me, seeing this presentation for the umpteenth time, is that it’s a pretty good pitch. The whole thing hinges on pointing out that there has been a process, a lot of process, without getting into the details over the dissent that process bore or its current stalled and disgruntled state.

For example, on the slide about bike facilities, Brandman could say, “There was a bike committee.” Nevermind that its crucial stakeholders quit in protest over their input being ignored.

On the slide about design, he could say, “There was a design committee.” Nevermind that key members of the design committee think the design is hideous.

On the slide about public outreach, he could point to the project’s “23,000 points of contact” to laud the CRC’s “transparent and accountable decision making” without having to note the numerous public protests against the bridge and the fact that even high-ranking elected leaders on the project complain vocally about it not being transparent or accountable. Brandman noted a picture of the Project Sponsors Council, pointing out Portland Mayor Sam Adams, Vancouver Mayor Tim Leavitt and Metro President David Bragdon’s involvement… without noting that all three of those leaders have spoken out against the current bridge design.

When it was time for questions, one guy in back piped up early on with the statement, “It appears to me that you’re making huge concessions to treehugging environmentalists, having bicycle lanes and a special access for bicycles.”

Brandman handled the point as a pro diplomat, saying, “Well, without getting into the characterization, this project is trying to get at many goals.”

When the man in the back cut in again with a “Well, but—” he was immediately cut off by the elderly bow-tied moderator who called out, “Enough!” and moved onto the next question. Man, old boys club have their benefits. Every public discussion could use a hardass bow-tied moderator.

After the crowd asked a lot of questions on the specifics of the tolling equipment and whether the bridge would have enough capacity for Oregon and Washington (which Brandman pronounces “Warshington”) in decades beyond 2030, we all retired to the fabulous upstairs dining hall for some salmon and chocolate parfait.