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The Spokesman-Review Newspaper
Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

Monitoring The Council Self-Appointed Watchdogs Keep Officials On Their Toes

Steve Massey Staff Writer

When it comes to City Council meetings here, they’re not over till Peggy Hopkins says her piece.

Hopkins - a 66-year-old watchdog with more bite than her frail frame suggests - has kept watch over city business for two decades.

She rails against everything: the police department, a former mayor’s exploits, the absence of public parking at The Coeur d’Alene Resort, a man whose thong bikini scandalizes City Beach and, most recently, the sway of developers in town.

“Ya know, it’s all business interests runnin’ this town anymore,” Hopkins says, slumping in a worn chair on her sun porch one afternoon.

“Never used to be that way.”

She rubs tired eyes behind hornrimmed glasses. Just a few words and she is short of breath, too exhausted to light another cigarette.

After digging through a box of old newspaper clippings on her lap, she returns to current events, shaking her head as she remembers a developer’s recent pitch to the council. “I think he slips a little green in their pockets … that’s what I think.”

Hopkins is among a handful of people in North Idaho who make it their business to keep government honest. One or two citizens in every town, it seems, patiently sit through each council or school board meeting, taking copious notes, storing away volumes of scrawl about mundane public happenings.

Some community watchdogs are eccentric, like Hopkins. Others lean toward the philosophical, burdened by civic duty. Depending on style, they bring levity to the public forum, or predictable indictments of any government action - good or bad.

But even elected officials concede these watchdogs occasionally play key roles in shaping community decisions.

“Those folks who continue to focus on issues remain effective,” said Post Falls Mayor Jim Hammond, who is regularly trailed by a least three watchdogs. He credits two enduring community observers with making sure that the town’s comprehensive plan protects schools from runaway growth.

Retired school teacher Dee Lawless, a perennial investigator of Post Falls’ City Council and School Board, keeps extensive files on government decisions. “I enjoy being able to pull facts together … I try to hold people’s feet to the fire.”

Lawless says she gets encouragement from others in the community who are too intimidated, or simply too busy to speak up about city issues. But, as most watchdogs will attest, the public does not always appreciate their effort.

Scott Engstrom of Sandpoint keeps a loaded gun in her house, just in case detractors carry through on threats.

“One guy called and said, ‘You know, all I have to do is drive up to your place and light a match.’ So I’m sure there are people out there who would love to see me gone,” says Engstrom, who dogs the School Board and the Bonner County commissioners. “Anyone who works for change becomes an enemy in lots of people’s eyes.”

Engstrom figures she spends four or five hours each day tracking public issues. She tirelessly investigates the public record, building paper trails that, every so often, prove her against-the-grain views on school and county issues.

“You have to be good at your paperwork,” Engstrom explains. “You can’t just go off and say something willy-nilly.”

Michelle Veale of Post Falls now forces herself to endure the most meaningless of City Council affairs. She recalls being caught unaware by a controversial annexation decision a couple of years ago and vowed to stayed informed.

She shares a concern common to most town watchdogs: So few people take an interest in government, even though it affects their lives profoundly.

“There are City Council members who miss more meetings than Michelle does,” says Don Morgan, another watchdog who hounds the Post Falls School Board. He keeps daily records of his civic activities. “If there was no public outcry, they (elected officials) could do anything they wanted.”

In Coeur d’Alene, Hopkins fought two years ago to preserve public parking downtown near The Coeur d’Alene Resort. Resort officials had threatened to have cars towed, even those in public spaces.

And she won first place in the Fred Murphy Days Parade a couple years back for dressing like a rabbit with signs that said “Me Mayor” on the front and “I hop potholes” on the back. (Former Mayor Ray Stone avoided a drunken driving charge in 1989, in part, by claiming he was dodging potholes.) In the parade, Hopkins rode a bicycle toting a giant plastic beer bottle.

City Councilman Ron Edinger says people like Hopkins make a difference in one way - they make sure the council does not “put anything over” on the public.

Not that it’s ever happened.

“Seriously, if we ever did, people like Peggy Hopkins would find out about it and make things pretty hot for us,” Edinger insists. “There are people who would say she’s an old windbag. That’s not true. Peggy gets around town. She knows what’s going on.”

Hopkins doesn’t argue that. But after 20 years of hard work, she’s not sure it counts for anything.

“You go down to those council meetings and it’s just a facade,” says Hopkins, gazing out the window. She closes her eyes, pursing her lips in anger. “They have to listen to you … but their minds are already made up. I just have too much tenacity to shut up and go away.”