EVERETT – It’s a race for momentum.
A change in leadership now will mean the resounding thud of a dropped ball at a time when the city is on the brink of its potential, Mayor Ray Stephanson said.
To Everett City Councilman Ron Gipson, Stephanson’s challenger, a shake-up will mean victory for Everett residents, who, he believes, don’t want Stephanson’s changes anyway.
Gipson hopes to snag voters who favor an approachable mayor over large-scale development.
Stephanson looks to voters who see Everett’s future through his eyes: riverfront, waterfront and downtown development with a four-year university in the midst of it all.
Before creating a tax burden, the city should enhance what it has, Gipson said.
Stephanson shook his head.
“No is my opponent’s favorite word,” he said.
And that really sours the mayor’s dreams.
“All my life I’ve waited for this moment,” Stephanson said. “The time is now.”
A third resident, Jesse Card, recently announced his write-in candidacy, but has yet to register with the Snohomish County Board of Elections.
Stephanson asks Everett residents to envision the city as he believes Gipson would have it. Gipson voted no on the cleanup of the toxic Asarco site, development of a new cancer treatment center, the Everett Events Center, and what Stephanson calls “the balanced budget process.”
That’s not the whole story, Gipson said.
He doesn’t oppose cleanup of the contaminated area, but disagreed with the city’s loan to the Everett Housing Authority that made the cleanup possible. The cleanup benefited Lake Stevens developer Barclay’s North, Inc., which plans to develop the area and has donated more than $3,000 to Stephanson’s campaign, Gipson said.
Developers have contributed more than $45,000 to Stephanson, which amounts to about a quarter of Stephanson’s contributions. Gipson’s campaign has raised about $45,000.
“My influence is not for sale,” Stephanson said.
Some residents disagree. The Donovan District, a north Everett neighborhood that was halved by the demolition of nearly two dozen homes to make way for the expansion of Providence Everett Medical Center, is dominated by signs for Gipson, who was the lone opposing vote.
“(Gipson) was the only one who cared about what we were going through,” said Hilary Anne Hager, a Donovan neighborhood resident. “The city doesn’t hold any value in historic preservation or its citizens.”
The hospital would have left town had the city not reached a deal, Stephanson said.
In two years, Stephanson has soothed an initially obstinate City Council. An early row over the city’s budget surplus ended when all but two councilmen, Gipson and Councilman Mark Olson, agreed to deep budget cuts instead of dipping into the city’s savings.
Old-time Everett
As he sat near the window at the White Elephant Bar &Grill on Broadway recently, Gipson chewed on Halloween candy, liberally salted his French fries and gazed out the window.
Come weekends, the husky councilman takes to the microphone and gets the place on its feet with karaoke and the song, “Devil Went Down to Georgia,” said Donna Kerns, co-owner of the bar.
Gipson met his wife, Shirley, as a high school junior during the days of “Colby Cruising,” a show-off tradition for teens and their cars. He called it good, cheap entertainment.
“No drugs, no alcohol,” he said.
In 2002, Gipson voted with the City Council to criminalize the practice, admitting that in his case, it led to accidents and sky-high insurance costs.
Now, he adds it to a list of activities from a bygone era that he believes Stephanson’s government is trying to squash. In April, the council voted to ban a host of businesses, including teen clubs, from Everett’s downtown. Gipson was absent that day.
That’s a policy that will drive kids to drugs and crime, he said.
A renewed city
Public safety and involvement is a priority, but Stephanson believes a mayor should think bigger. His proposed 2006 budget includes provisions for renovation and expansion of city parks and a north Everett community center. He believes his Downtown Comprehensive Plan will wake the city from a long slumber.
On one of the last pleasant evenings late in the summer, Stephanson hopped out of a rusty 1974 Ford pickup, clutching a handful of campaign fliers and a baggie of dog biscuits.
It’s politicking at its most basic just Stephanson, armed with little more than a smile. For a man who gave up a dream of becoming the next Ernest Hemingway, down-to-earth doorbelling is a bit of blue-collar poetry.
He walks briskly between homes, telling residents that their city is a mere breath away from entering a golden age.
The election is critical, he said. It will decide the fate of a city on the brink.
“We can either move forward with a positive agenda or slip back into inaction,” he said.
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