Most Clark County elected officials report for work daily
Two say spotty records don't reflect work done
By Michael Andersen
Published: March 1, 2010, 12:00am
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Clark County’s courthouse is full of stories about bygone elected officials who didn’t check in much, but one name stands out: Bruce Worthington.
In July 1966, after 13 years in office, the county’s 38-year-old Republican auditor announced he wouldn’t run for re-election. He was about to finish his undergraduate degree at Portland State University, he said.
The next month, with five months left in his term, Worthington abruptly put his house up for sale, spent a few days visiting his mother in California and booked a cruise to Germany, leaving the auditor’s office in the bewildered hands of chief deputy Bill Sullivan.
Sullivan sent “several letters and cablegrams” to his former boss, but never heard back. Worthington’s successor, former U.S. Rep. Don Bonker, said last week that people heard Worthington eventually moved to San Francisco.
Clark County's courthouse is full of stories about bygone elected officials who didn't check in much, but one name stands out: Bruce Worthington.
In July 1966, after 13 years in office, the county's 38-year-old Republican auditor announced he wouldn't run for re-election. He was about to finish his undergraduate degree at Portland State University, he said.
The next month, with five months left in his term, Worthington abruptly put his house up for sale, spent a few days visiting his mother in California and booked a cruise to Germany, leaving the auditor's office in the bewildered hands of chief deputy Bill Sullivan.
Sullivan sent "several letters and cablegrams" to his former boss, but never heard back. Worthington's successor, former U.S. Rep. Don Bonker, said last week that people heard Worthington eventually moved to San Francisco.
Wherever Worthington was, the county continued to deposit monthly paychecks for $583.33 into Worthington's bank account until his term ended in January 1967.
There was no law to prevent it, The Columbian reported at the time.
Wherever Worthington was, the county continued to deposit monthly paychecks for $583.33 into Worthington’s bank account until his term ended in January 1967.
There was no law to prevent it, The Columbian reported at the time.
October 2009 was an especially busy month for Clark County’s government.
Commissioners announced a $12.7 million general fund shortfall, eventually settling on deep cuts to the parks budget and a round of tax and fee hikes. Other elected officials scrambled to slash their own budgets. In the county assessor’s office, trouble with new software led to an unusually long delay in calculating property valuations, which are supposed to be mailed in the summer but didn’t go out until Nov. 9.
Meanwhile, the number of days Clark County’s nine elected politicians were communicating with constituents, peers and subordinates — by phone or e-mail, at least — varied widely.
Five of the full-time officials — Commissioner Marc Boldt, Sheriff Garry Lucas, Prosecuting Attorney Art Curtis, Clerk Sherry Parker and Treasurer Doug Lasher — placed outbound phone calls or e-mails on about as many days as there were weekdays in October, according to records released to The Columbian under the state Open Records Act.
Two others — Commissioner Steve Stuart and Auditor Greg Kimsey — were on their phones and checking e-mail constantly, at least once almost every day, including weekends.
But the final two — Commissioner Tom Mielke and Assessor Linda Franklin — were electronically active just 14 days in October.
So if Mielke and Franklin didn’t place a single phone call or write an e-mail on more than one-third of the month’s 22 working days, what were they doing all that time?
For many of those days, neither is able to specify.
Sick, but on call
Mielke, a Battle Ground Republican, and Franklin, a Ridgefield Democrat, both said they work as hard as possible on the public’s behalf, even when they’re not on the phone or a computer.
“I probably do an easy 50 hours” per week, said Mielke. “It’s like you never stop working. You’re always there to help or serve or answer something. And I feel good about that.”
Franklin agreed.
“I have evening meetings,” Franklin said. “I have other things that people don’t see that translate into being of service.”
Mielke and Franklin were both contacted by phone for this story on Thursday, Feb. 11. Mielke called back on Tuesday, Feb. 16; Franklin on Wednesday, Feb. 17.
Franklin said she’d been home sick or at the doctor on many days last year, struggling with health issues she was unwilling to share.
She’s now “finally getting on top of” her trouble, she said.
“There are days that I’m ill,” Franklin said, speaking from her office last month. “I’m here, doctor’s appointments, or working from home. That’s the entirety.”
She also took off Friday, Oct. 2, to celebrate her husband’s birthday, she said, and was out half of Friday, Oct. 16.
Franklin, 64, said that though she may work for the people of the county, they aren’t entitled to know her medical situation.
“I can’t ask my employees for their medical things,” she said. “I’m not using that as an excuse. What I’m saying is that I’m here. … If I’m not here, I’m on the phone dealing with my staff.”
No formal system
Unlike with employees, Clark County has no system for tracking the sick time of its elected officials, except judges.
County managers receive up to 12 sick days per year, plus five to seven weeks’ paid vacation. Judges get 12 sick days.
But neither the county’s nine elected politicians or its 16 elected judges get official vacation time, county Human Resources Director Francine Reis said. There are no rules on the subject.
“We know we need to pay them,” said Reis, who reports to the three county commissioners by way of County Administrator Bill Barron. “They get one-24th of their (annual) pay every pay period.”
Steve Foster, the county’s human resources manager until 2001, said local politicians have never had a job description other than the basic definitions in the law.
“They’re paid … to hold the post and fulfill the duties,” Foster said. “They don’t have time sheets or time cards. … It’s a matter of each person’s personal work ethic and integrity.”
The three county commissioners and the sheriff are paid $98,224 a year. The other elected politicians earn $93,313, except for Prosecuting Attorney Art Curtis. Curtis makes $148,832, the same as a Superior Court judge.
Why show up?
Do local politicians even need to show up for work?
No one interviewed for this story argued that office time is unimportant.
But many of the county’s elected officials spend their days supervising appointed deputies who often have deeper technical skills and make more money than their elected bosses.
“I have the best staff I’ve ever had since I’ve been here for 31 years,” said Franklin, who served as the former assessor’s top deputy herself for 23 years. “I rely on them heavily, and I’m totally accessible to them all the time.”
Lucas, the sheriff, said he’s always on call — even when he’s out conducting “the occasional traffic stop.”
Lucas placed 45 outbound calls on a total of 23 days in October. He accidentally deleted his e-mail records from the month, he said, thinking they were backed up elsewhere. Lucas said he responds to “about two-thirds” of the “50 to 60” e-mails he receives daily.
“I don’t think you need to be there every day,” said Lucas, who was accused last month of being out of touch with his employees by custody officer Tim Shotwell, who is running for sheriff. “But you need to be in constant contact with your folks.”
Six calls, 38 e-mails
Mielke, who placed a total of six phone calls from county lines in October, said he starts a typical day by meeting a constituent for breakfast.
He often spends evenings popping into public meetings to stay on top of local events, he said, and drives about 400 miles a month on county business.
Mielke said he uses his personal cell phone for county business, but rarely places outbound calls on it.
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He sent 38 e-mails in October, compared with 129 from Boldt and 90 from Stuart.
“Us old guys, we don’t do BlackBerries,” said Mielke, 67. Boldt is 55 years old, Stuart 38.
Asked how he spent his time on the nine weekdays in October when he placed no calls and sent no e-mail, Mielke said figuring it out was a low priority.
“I don’t think I need to be accountable for all my time,” Mielke said. “If I did keep track of all my time, I’d expect to be paid for 50 to 60 hours a week. Are you trying to get me a raise?”
Kimsey, the auditor, said that if any Clark County politician weren’t “actively engaged in the affairs of the office,” word would get around.
“I don’t have to come into the office at all,” said Kimsey, who sent 270 e-mail messages and placed 106 phone calls in October. “I don’t have to tell anybody. I don’t have to submit any paperwork. … I have more job security than anybody you know, except every four years I have a pretty thorough job performance review.”