Less than two weeks before he was to leave office, Vancouver Mayor Royce Pollard was already a week and a half deep into packing his notoriously cluttered office, sorting the countless relics of his 21 years as an elected official.
Blue stickers meant the items belonged to the city, pink stickers meant they were going to Pollard’s northwest Vancouver home. Green dots were pressed onto the memories that he would donate to the Boys & Girls Club for an auction.
A lot of work was left.
Whole drawers were left untouched; drawings from schoolkids and a bumper sticker with his signature “America’s Vancouver” slogan were still taped to his office door.
As was an unsigned, handwritten note that began by declaring Pollard a known terrorist: “We all know where you’re going after your eventual demise! Serves you right!!!”
Pollard, 70, chuckled, but turned serious as he reacted to the note’s anonymous nature.
“A person of no integrity and no guts. I’ll look someone in the face and tell them what I think.”
No matter what’s been said or written, love him or hate him, everyone says the same — you’re going to know just what Royce Pollard thinks about most things. And the way he’ll tell you is going to be passionate, opinionated and occasionally more than just a little bit sarcastic. It’s an attitude that many say pushed the city far, but ultimately may have cost him an election.
It’s an attitude that has led to the stuff of local myth: smashed Starbucks coffee mugs that dare bear the Portland name, run-ins with transients in Esther Short Park.
It’s an attitude that has alienated and irritated a fair share of folks, including county commissioners. It’s also won him steadfast support in Washington D.C., Olympia, and City Hall.
On Nov. 3, just like most times, it was clear what Pollard was thinking: He was heartbroken by his 54 percent to 46 percent loss to his young challenger, Councilor Tim Leavitt. His 14-year tenure as Vancouver’s mayor — and head cheerleader — officially comes to an end Monday, when Leavitt is sworn into office.
“It’s like getting a divorce when you’re still in love,” City Manager Pat McDonnell said.
Rebranding a city
Pollard’s nickname used to be “Royce-ster,” to reflect his rooster-like tendency to proudly crow about his adopted hometown.
Political friends and foes alike say that a whole lot of that has rubbed off on Vancouver.
“I make fun of it all the time, but boy, it’s stuck in my head, ‘America’s Vancouver,’” said Gov. Chris Gregoire, who has developed a professional friendship with Pollard. “He had a way of branding it, and what that resulted in is pride in the community.”
That rebranding was intentional.
Years ago when Pollard, then an Army lieutenant colonel, was told he’d be the new commander of the Vancouver Barracks, his response was, “‘Christ, I didn’t know we had a post in Canada.’”
But it became quickly apparent that his 19th move in 27 years would be his last.
“I fell in love with Vancouver, warts and everything,” he said. “It reminds me of Vermont (he grew up in Burlington) on a grander scale. Green, big, friendly people.”
After retiring from the Army in 1988, he set about trying to make his home a better place. He won a spot on the city council in 1989 and ran successfully for mayor in 1995.
Once Pollard fixes his mind on something, he’s dead set on getting it done, Gregoire said.
As mayor, he immediately began lobbying to get his city’s fair share of state and federal funding. As a person, he formed allegiances with busy state and national figures, many of whom rushed to endorse him in the last election.
“He got me to do things that 95 percent of the mayors in the state don’t call on me to do,” Gregoire said. “He’s absolutely tireless. Once I agree (to do something) he holds me accountable.”
Building those relationships was important, Pollard said. He also dedicated himself to winning over senators and members of Congress, hiring a lobbyist and travelling frequently to Washington D.C. to make the case that Vancouver deserves federal grants.
“No one knew who the hell we were,” he explained. “People in Olympia didn’t know us, people in D.C. didn’t care about us. I guess I was the lightning rod.”
Assessing a legacy
More than a few people referred to the relationship between Pollard and Vancouver as a father who could see his child do no wrong.
The father of two sons and grandfather of three hadn’t thought of it that way. Yet it makes sense, he said.
“I believe in this city,” he said. “But little kids fall and they scrape their knees. You pick them up and dust ’em off.”
That faith — and relentless advocacy — have been the impetus behind many of the city’s successes, and some bitter rivalries.
Take downtown.
“It was a dump, it was depressed,” said state Rep. Jim Moeller, who was elected to fill Pollard’s seat on the city council in 1995 as Pollard became mayor. “The whole feeling has changed downtown. I credit that to Royce.”
Others named revitalized Esther Short Park, the expansion of east Vancouver, the Firstenburg Community Center and historical preservation among his legacies.
Pollard said he has no regrets.
“We’ve transformed this city from a small town suburb of Portland to a large city,” he said. “I have a lot of faith in the future.”
Still, Moeller said Pollard’s love for the city could blind him to potential pitfalls. He cited the downtown Hilton, which was originally envisioned as a multipurpose arena and convention center. The city developed and still owns the building and property. The project, which has not lived up to its financial projections, has drawn critics since before the first concrete was poured.
“We started off hoping for the best and it was less than we anticipated,” Moeller said. “It’s easy to get caught up with Royce’s enthusiasm for something. I think he could use a good dose of skepticism now and then.”
However, Councilor Jeanne Harris said she appreciated how Pollard would dedicate himself to a cause.
“He made it easy to see the goal,” she said. “I found him to be open to input from council and staff, but that he definitely knew where he stood.”
For his part, the outgoing mayor said the hotel is an asset that is in the black financially for the city.
“It is 100 percent better than it was before,” he said, recalling the old bus depot and parking lot on that corner.
Stubborn to a fault
Often times, folks knew where Pollard stood because he was standing his ground.
Ruffle his feathers, and there were sure to be words. Moeller called it “cantankerous.” Harris said he could be “crabby.” Councilor Jeanne Stewart recalled some “rousing red-faced differences of opinion.”
“If you got in the way between him and Vancouver, you’ve picked yourself a fight,” Moeller said.
Retiring councilor Pat Jollota, who served on the council with Pollard for 20 years, said she and the mayor “didn’t always sing ‘Kumbaya.’”
But she — and most everyone else — said he did so with respect.
“He was always willing to admit when he had made a mistake,” Jollota said. “That’s really very hard to do, especially for those of the male persuasion.”
Among Pollard’s most rancorous of relationships was with former Clark County Commissioner Betty Sue Morris.
Upon hearing her name, Pollard half-choked on his coffee.
“We’re like oil and water,” he said simply.
The two famously sparred over light-rail expansion into Clark County and annexation.
Their duel certainly didn’t bring many intergovernmental alliances between city and county — it may have been telling that all three sitting county commissioners endorsed Leavitt.
“His loyalty was to the city of Vancouver and my loyalty was to the county,” Morris said. “When two people are as dedicated as both of us are, it’s only natural that you see the kinds of collisions that we so frequently had.”
Still, she followed with a compliment: “Royce Pollard gave his heart and his all to the city of Vancouver. I don’t think there’s any way anyone could ever disagree with that.”
Taking a toll
His loss to Leavitt was clearly tough.
The two times he grew visibly upset during interviews were when discussing his time in Vietnam, and the campaign.
Some, in confidence, said they weren’t sure if Pollard knows or can accept why the city he loves did not return the feeling.
“Was it hard? Of course it was. No one likes to be rejected,” he said. “I’m over it. I’m looking forward.”
Many said Leavitt was Pollard’s first serious challenger in his six campaigns, a measured foil to his firecracker style.
The pair diverged on bridge tolling; argued over whose campaign was more negative. They spent a combined $300,000, the most expensive election in city history.
Leavitt promised to fight bridge tolling on a new Columbia Bridge Crossing. Pollard never yielded his stance that tolls are inevitable.
“If I had changed my views, it wouldn’t be me,” Pollard said.
Harris, who did not endorse either candidate during the election, said Leavitt is reserved while Pollard can be more aggressive.
She said that the campaign mailers sent just before the election were key, with Leavitt successfully making a claim for change.
“Overall it came down to the tolls issue, that was the defining issue between them,” she said. “Royce, I think, felt like he was standing in a room screaming, and no one could hear him.”
Morris said the city was simply moving on.
“What happened with Royce politically was he was too enthusiastic about what he believed what was right for the city of Vancouver,” she said. “A growing number of people … didn’t share what he particularly thought was the best thing.”
Pollard and Leavitt have yet to have a meeting post-election.
Leavitt said he’ll take Pollard’s sense of pride in the city with him as he assumes office.
“In many ways Mayor Pollard raised the bar of expectations about what we can be as a community, and my intention as mayor is to continue to raise that bar even higher,” he said.
The future
Someone once wrote that Pollard is “so strongly identified with the city that his mug might as well be part of Vancouver’s official emblem.”
For that man to be out voted of office has many wondering, and slightly worried, about what his future will hold.
“He’s been a colonel, he’s been a mayor, and now he’s exploring who he’s going to be next,” Harris said.
Pollard said he’s taking six months off to relax and refocus his efforts.
He’s certainly going to do woodworking in his garage. He and his wife of 45 years, Margaret, will travel to Hawaii in April.
As he packed, Pollard’s oft-used quote book from Yogi Berra was still unboxed. A signed photo of himself with Colin Powell was marked to go home with him.
True to his soldier past, the marches of John Philip Sousa streamed from his computer speakers, providing an upbeat tone to his imminent departure.
He thinks his future will also involve serving his soldier comrades, in veterans advocacy.
“I’m going to inject myself where I can do the most good — not for Royce Pollard, but for veterans.”
Andrea Damewood: 360-735-4542; andrea.damewood@columbian.com.
