Country Boy To County Boss Property Rights Champion Becomes County’s Senior Commissioner

FOR THE RECORD (January 29, 1997): Correction: Spokane County Commissioner Phil Harris was a master sergeant when he retired from the Air Force. A story in Sunday’s newspaper indicated otherwise.

Each morning in the Spokane County commissioners’ office, Phil Harris passes up pots filled with French Roast and Vienna Blend coffee. He reaches for one marked “100 percent Colombian, AKA Non-Yuppie.”

It is a simple but defining act for a man who sometimes says “ain’t” instead of “isn’t” and doesn’t much like new-fangled ideas.

“I’m just a simple country boy,” said Harris, 61, who was raised in suburban Virginia but helped his father break and trade horses.

Harris’ down-home analogies and affable humor were part of the appeal when voters elected him in 1994.

His promises were simple: “Responsible leadership and respect for the people.” His campaign workers were folks who knew him from 18 years as a Boy Scout leader and other community activities.

His smarts were learned on the job rather than in the classroom. They were reassuring traits to voters who had grown weary of a scolding Pat Mummey, the incumbent who wasn’t running for re-election.

Two years after taking office, the retired Air Force officer and one-time Amway salesman has gone from outsider to the county’s senior commissioner. His simple solutions have not always worked, and his relationship with county employees is strained.

But he remains popular to those who consider him a voice of reason in an overregulated, overtaxed world.

“He’s really, really interested in what the common guys, the little guys, think,” said Republican party activist Lynn Schindler. “He cares.”

Property rights

To Harris, “little guys” often means landowners. Real estate agents and developers were his top campaign contributors, and while he doesn’t approve every subdivision that comes along, he remains true to most of their causes.

Shortly after Harris took office, commissioners reorganized the building and planning departments to streamline the permit process. Critics said the move also eliminated opposition to questionable developments.

He voted with former Commissioner Steve Hasson to return money taken from developers to improve parks.

Such “impact fees” are illegal under current laws, Harris said. Told that county attorneys disagree, he repeated a phrase he often uses: “Opinions are like ears. Every attorney has two of them.”

He argued for 50-foot buffers between new developments and major streams. Commissioner John Roskelley wanted 250-foot setbacks, but settled on 200 feet in a compromise with Hasson.

Harris argues that restrictions don’t just affect wealthy developers, but also “mom and pop” builders, young families and retirees.

Twice in the last year, he sided with people seeking permission from the Spokane County Health Board to use illegal sewage systems at their modest lakeside homes. He was outvoted in both cases, and told one of the applicants he ought to sue the county and the state.

“In my opinion, your land has been plundered here by government and you have a right to be compensated for that,” he said.

No issue has offended his sense of property rights as much as the state’s Growth Management Act, which requires stringent land-use planning.

With a Democrat in the governor’s office, Harris has lost hope that the 1990 law will be repealed. But in recent weeks, he’s fought to slow the county’s implementation of it.

“Let ‘em take us to court,” he answered when Roskelley argued that the county has already missed a state-imposed deadline.

Harris expressed similar disdain for regulations during November’s ice storm, when the county declared a state of emergency due to power outages.

He dared air-pollution officials to ban the use of wood stoves, even though there had been no talk of a ban.

“I hope they do it,” said Harris. “I’ll reverse it so fast it’ll make their heads spin.”

Mixed results

Harris came into office with a promise to cut spending. Two years later, he and fellow budget-hawks Roskelley and newly elected Commissioner Kate McCaslin still are struggling to build a reserve account.

Harris said taxpayers are getting more for their money: more sheriff’s deputies, prosecutors and judges, for instance.

“Every day we make a little more progress,” he said, adding that union regulations and red tape make bigger steps difficult.

In 1995, Harris and then-Commissioner Steve Hasson cut 81 positions that were funded but unfilled.

Next, they froze Sheriff John Goldman’s salary, and voted to cut it by $20,000 starting next term. The move came after a study showed Goldman made more than most sheriffs in the state.

Later that year, commissioners were stunned by Goldman’s emergency request for $600,000 to cover his deputies’ overtime. They’ve since required Goldman to make quarterly budget reports.

“And it’s worked,” said Harris, noting that the department finished 1996 in the black.

Goldman, too, said the meetings are helpful.

“It’s important that we work together, that the commissioners get a sense of the programs and the issues that are before us,” he said.

Early on, there were well-publicized inconsistencies in Harris’ fiscal crackdown.

He suggested switching from electric pencil sharpers to hand-crank models to save money. Then he spent $343 on gold badges for commissioners.

He and Hasson accompanied Goldman on a business trip to Raleigh, N.C., at a cost of $4,335. Other county officials were especially critical about Harris and Hasson combining the trip with a visit to Harris’ brother’s house on the Atlantic Coast, although both said no public money was spent on the social call.

At the same time they were cutting jobs in other departments, Harris and Hasson decided in 1995 to hire a receptionist for commissioners. A month later, after much criticism, they backed away from the decision.

But they hired a receptionist last year.

In recent months, Harris has urged Roskelley to hire a secretary rather than share one with two top county administrators. That would boost the number of commissioners’ assistants from three to five in the two years since Harris took office.

Harris as boss

To many county employees, Harris’ oft-stated claim of being a “statesman, not a politician” rings hollow. Several used terms like “belittling” and “manipulative” to describe him.

None of the county workers contacted would speak on the record for fear of retaliation. That’s a common concern whenever employees talk about bosses, but Harris said it’s unwarranted in his case.

“Anybody from the county can tell you anything. They don’t have to be afraid,” he told a reporter.

County workers don’t buy it.

“The most important thing to Phil Harris is wielding power,” said one longtime employee. “You don’t want to cross him.”

At a recent televised hearing, Harris fell silent after audience members corrected him for saying high schools don’t have golf teams. When he spoke again, his eyes were locked on county golf manager Mike Kingsley, who was sitting in the front row.

“I’m a little bit embarrassed that I didn’t know that, and I don’t like employees that don’t keep me informed so I get embarrassed,” he said.

Though he often praises individual county employees or departments, employees note that he speaks despairingly of government workers in general.

“It sounds like I’m criticizing the person when I’m really criticizing the system,” Harris said. “I have to be careful about that.”

County auditor Bill Donohue said he thinks most employees who dislike Harris really only disagree with his politics or have little personal contact with him.

“He has a definite view of how things should be done. It may not be accepted by the other side,” said Donohue, an elected official who often disagrees with Harris. “But he’s a good listener.”

The acrimony that was part of nearly every commissioners’ meeting has largely disappeared since Harris replaced Mummey.

It’s a point of pride between him and Roskelley that while they hold vastly different views on a variety of subjects, they rarely lose their tempers in public.

One exception was in October, when Harris angrily accused Roskelley of “not reading your materials” prior to making a decision.

Yet Harris announced in a meeting that he rarely reads the commissioners’ weekly briefing materials. Instead, he said, he asks county employees to explain issues he doesn’t fully understand.

Harris calls the technique “management by walking around” and said it’s a morale booster.

“I think it makes the staff feel good,” he said.

, DataTimes ILLUSTRATION: 2 Color Photos