Commissioners Lose Steadying Hand Rosanne Montague A Model Of Civility For 30 Years

They were sworn enemies.

But when former Spokane County Commissioner Steve Hasson wanted to send a conciliatory letter to an ailing Commissioner Pat Mummey last year, one woman was trusted enough to deliver it and have it heard:

Rosanne Montague.

In the commissioners’ office, where agendas and egos daily collide, Montague holds a remarkable public record:

She’s always voted for the commissioners.

For nearly 30 years, the clerk of the board has witnessed county history, recording every official act. She’s witnessed the unofficial acts as well, serving 17 commissioners, outliving nearly a third of them and getting along with all.

When Montague retires today, officials say much of the history and civility in the courthouse goes with her.

“Whenever we were mud-wrestling, she’d pull us back up again to some level of decorum,” Hasson remembered this week. “She held us to what we could be and should be doing.”

“You have to respect someone in government who can be so civil and keep her head when things get going wild,” said Mayor Jack Geraghty, a commissioner when Montague started.

Montague never ate lunch in the courthouse cafeteria - to avoid becoming the message-carrier to and from the commissioners. She never told her husband, Jim, office gossip so he’d avoid an inadvertent slip. She never voted against a sitting commissioner.

“I’ve been able to see the positive side of each,” said Montague, 63. “It’s like your parents. You wouldn’t always choose your parents, but you love them dearly and wouldn’t go out and seek other parents.”

Montague was a divorced mother of five young daughters when her lawyer, now U.S. District Court Judge Justin Quackenbush, advised her to get a job. She did - at his law firm. A year later, in 1967, she joined the auditor’s office indexing mortgages and deeds. She quickly determined the best job in the department was clerk of the board - and within three years, had it.

“She does her job so well, I forget she’s even there,” said her supervisor, Auditor William Donahue, who officially is clerk of the board. “I neglect that spot because I know it’s taken care of.”

Montague attended weekly meetings, put citizens under oath and recorded what the commission did, knew why and where to find it. Her files are stored on computers and in a vault near the commissioners’ office. Daniela Erickson will assume her job.

Early on, Montague drew clear boundaries between work and the rest of her life.

Still, there were times she was pulled in. Like the day her lunch was blown up.

During a particularly vicious land-use hearing several years ago, a passer-by thought a sack on a courthouse windowsill was a bomb. Montague’s trout loaf was promptly surrounded and detonated by the bomb squad.

“She’s kept a sense of humor through all of it,” said Carol McVicker, an employment specialist.

Today, the county will honor Montague at a reception at 2 p.m. in the first-floor hallway. She’ll be wearing a dress as she has every day since she started. She’ll be smiling.

“When you come in on a bright sunny morning and look up at that tower you can’t help but feel pride,” she said. “That’s what we need to do here, look up more often.”

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