Rerouting The Money Trail Harry Lonsdale--the three-time Democratic candidate for U.S. Senate, Bend high-tech businessman and campaign-finance crusader--is back. After losing to Tom Bruggere in the 1996 primary, Lonsdale disappeared from the Oregon political scene. He started Campaign for Democracy, a national campaign-finance reform group. Lonsdale is coming home politically for 2000, with a campaign-finance measure. His ballot initiative, which will probably be filed this week, would limit contributions to $1,000 per candidate and prohibit corporate contributions altogether. The initiative parrots federal campaign-finance laws and is similar to 1994's short-lived Measure 9, which passed by an overwhelming majority but was overturned in a constitutional challenge. Lonsdale plans to avoid that pitfall this time: His measure is a constitutional amendment. His entry joins another measure put together by a coalition of activists and politicians calling itself the Oregon Working Group. One of the chief petitioners is former state school czar Norma Paulus, and supporters include Secretary of State Phil Keisling and state Rep. Diane Rosenbaum. Their measure is a voluntary program that would allow candidates to receive--and limit their spending to--a chunk of public money ranging from $25,000 for a House primary campaign to $1.2 million for a gubernatorial race. "This would create an opportunity for people to forgo private money," Rosenbaum says, "and encourage people who don't currently have access to the system." Either measure would fundamentally change the way campaigns in Oregon are run. Reformers say that change is needed, but the state Legislature apparently does not agree. With little fanfare, the lawmakers last session overturned a provision remaining from Measure 9 by which candidates could pledge to stay within voluntary spending limits. --Patty Wentz Omission WW's 25th Anniversary supplement, which is at the center of this week's paper, failed to credit photographer Basil Childers, who shot the picture of the bridge used on the cover of the special pull-out. Controlling The Animals The embarrassing blow-up of the ill-fated pet-food tax proposal this summer ("The Politics of Puppy Chow," WW, Sept. 1, 1999) provided several lessons for County Chairwoman Beverly Stein. Among them: The public's disdain for the county's Animal Control Division is going to make it hard for Stein to spend any more money there. Over the years, complaints to county commissioners have been far out of proportion to the Troutdale agency's size. Last week, the county responded by forcing the division's director, Hank Miggins, into early retirement and forming an Animal Control Task Force. The 18 task-force members have seven months to hammer into shape a reformulated Animal Control Division that will focus more on spay-and-neuter programs and less on barking dogs. "What we have now is not the ideal system," Stein says. Task force members include Gresham Police Chief Bernie Giusto, a representative of Petco, a veterinarian and an odd mix of animal welfare advocates and critics of animal welfare. Within the next two months Stein expects to have hired a new, $75,000-a-year Animal Control director. That person's input to the process is crucial, says Commissioner Serena Cruz. But devising a kinder, gentler Animal Control on paper is one thing. Funding it is a different game. Stein expects that the overhauled agency will cost more than its current $2.86 million annual tab. At the same time, she has insisted that she won't stand for any more than the current $1.2 million that goes to the agency from the county's general fund. She'd even like to see that amount trimmed. The task force is supposed to hit upon a method of funding the agency. According to earlier proposals generated by Miggins, Animal Control's budget could jump to as much as $5 million, which means that next spring the pet-food tax could rise again. --Philip Dawdy Badge of Dishonor Portland's sex workers have their panties in a twist over the city's new restrictions on escorts and lingerie models--and they're determined to come out on top. A new group named Scarlet Letter met Tuesday at the offices of the Lesbian Community Project on East Burnside, where a dozen mufti-clad escorts, lingerie models and exotic dancers--all women--blasted the ordinance and vowed to reverse it. "It's a violation of our right to commerce," said local escort Lisa, who facilitated the meeting. "It's very, very invasive." Approved 3-0 by a rump council last month, the ordinance requires all escorts and lingerie models to apply for a permit, which involves fingerprinting and a background check; keep a phone log of each customer who calls; show a photo ID to their customers; sign a contract with each customer before the appointment; and post a sign in their place of business stating that prostitution is illegal. Scarlet Letter includes both women who insist they're not hookers and at least one who readily admitted to it. They all object to the ordinance on several grounds. They resent the fingerprints and the background check. They worry that stalkers will get access to records listing their real name and address; most of all, they fear that the permit will become a badge of dishonor--a scarlet letter--in the eyes of the law. "Absolutely not," replies Capt. Jim Ferraris of the drugs and vice squad, who says the ordinance is designed to protect legitimate businesses and drive out those engaged in prostitution. He concedes, however, that escorts' and models' personal information may be subject to public scrutiny. Dressed in halter tops and high-heeled boots, the women didn't look like typical City Hall critics, but they sounded, for the most part, like any other young professionals earnestly discussing industry developments. Apart from the occasional siren from police outside and the incongruous sounds of bongo drums from an upstairs room, they might have been attending a marketing seminar. Sheila, an escort in her late twenties, stood next to a white board and described a two-pronged strategy: a legal challenge to tie up the ordinance in court, coupled with an effort to persuade the council to repeal it. "We need a great deal of modification in this industry," she said. "But I don't think this is the answer." Several business owners are pondering a joint legal challenge to the ordinance. "We're definitely looking into it," says Frank Faillace, the publisher of Exotic magazine, which regularly runs glossy, full-page ads for escorts and lingerie-modeling establishments. By the end of the meeting, only three women said they would seek licenses. Several others said they haven't decided. And at least one woman vowed to defy the law. "I will not apply and I will keep working," said Hellena Handbasket, a 22-year-old prostitute. "I'm not afraid to be a martyr." The Police Bureau plans to start enforcing the law Dec. 29. --Chris Lydgate City Clubbed The normally mild-mannered Portland City Club got a lot of attention last week when it came out swinging, with a scathing report on Portland's long-range planning. Lost in the fracas is an equally blistering attack on what club members see as the underlying problem: the city's commission form of government. The 112-page report, titled "Increasing Density in Portland," accuses city planners of being unable to back up housing projections with solid numbers and calls for the city to ensure that large-scale development projects include more housing. Without population density, the report says, "the region will fall prey to gridlock and sprawl." The report noted that Portland's long-range planning staff have been cut while the number of employees processing permits has doubled, meaning that development is driving Portland's vision, the report said. This lack of focus, the authors say, stems from the city's unusual form of government. In most other cities, the elected city council sets broad policies while a hired city manager carries them out and oversees the day-to-day operations in all the bureaus. Portland, however, has a commission form of government, in which each member of the City Council manages specific bureaus, such as police, fire, water, transportation and planning. As a result, the report says, commissioners tend to focus on their own bureau and their own agenda. Though the commission form of government was once popular nationwide, the report says, Portland is the only major American city still to have it. "Witnesses both inside and outside city government report that no one is 'in charge' under Portland's commission form of government," said the report. "Witnesses who raised these concerns generally blamed the lack of leadership on the fragmented nature of Portland's...government, the leadership styles and abilities of individual commissioners, and the lack of cooperation between individual council members." The report stopped short of calling for the scrapping of the city charter, instead recommending better communication between bureaus. --Nick Budnick - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Willamette Week | originally published November 10, 1999