McGinn's go-it-alone approach gets mixed results at City Hall

Two weeks after his election as mayor, Mike McGinn delighted Seattle City Council members with a visit to their offices. Friendly and unescorted, he parked himself in the middle of Councilmember Sally Clark's office to chat.

Councilmember Jan Drago acted as tour guide, taking the soon-to-be mayor from office to office. Councilmember Nick Licata swooned in his newsletter that McGinn's "seemingly ever present smile may become his trademark."

A year later, McGinn's trademark is not his smile but a go-it-alone style that has alienated other government officials and left McGinn with a long list of goals and a short list of political wins.

While behind-the-scenes meetings and carefully crafted messages ruled the Greg Nickels administration that preceded his, McGinn has sought public support by listening to community groups and lobbing zingers in the media.

"I think we've really done a lot to reach out and listen to people," McGinn said. "Success comes when you're understanding the broader public values and working to achieve them."

When the new mayor offended council members by excluding them from his first proposal — to ask voters to pay for a new waterfront sea wall — the council simply ignored the legislation. Since he declared in October that Gov. Chris Gregoire couldn't be trusted on the Highway 99 tunnel project, she has taken conversations about the tunnel to the council instead.

Sometimes McGinn's approach worked. He pushed for and won a 520 bridge design that is more traffic- and transit-friendly to the Montlake neighborhood, and he cut city spending without widespread protest.

But as McGinn enters his second year in office, his biggest challenge could be overcoming his own reputation with other government leaders.

"I don't think he sees the larger political arena that's necessary for him to play in to get things done," Licata said. "You can only win through losing so many times. You win the rhetorical battle, but lose the vote."

Tunnel-project critic

McGinn entered office poised for a fight over the planned $2 billion tunnel, to replace the aging Alaskan Way Viaduct.

His repeated push-back on the project dominated the year and tainted his relationships.

He focused his opposition on a clause in state legislation that any cost overruns would be paid by Seattle-area property owners who benefit from the tunnel. McGinn says the city's budget could be wrecked if the project goes awry.

The governor and other officials are exasperated. They say McGinn is making a big deal out of it in an attempt to stop the project.

Asked recently about the dispute, City Council President Richard Conlin sighed. "It has just sucked a lot of energy," he said.

Many officials see McGinn as unable to transition from his background as a lawyer and an environmental activist into a political leader.

"He has no friends in government," said Drago, who left the council in 2009. "He alienated City Council members, certain suburban folks, the state, including the governor and the Legislature."

McGinn's clamoring paid off in July, when the council, fatigued by his arguments, postponed until January or February key agreements with the state that would allow tunneling to begin. Also, two groups — one that includes McGinn's Sierra Club friends — are gathering signatures for anti-tunnel ballot measures.

McGinn is unapologetic about his persistent criticism of the tunnel, although he says he could have been "more diplomatic" in talking about the governor.

"I raise questions about the tunnel, and they raise questions about my personality," McGinn said. "That's kind of how the flow has been going."

McGinn's opponents have nicknamed him "Mayor McSchwinn" and portray him as a car-hating amateur who cares only about bike lanes and killing the tunnel.

Even McGinn acknowledges he's still figuring out how to conduct himself as mayor.

McGinn's first news conference — a waterfront announcement of his plans to use a voter-approved bond to replace the sea wall — was a noisy, disorganized gathering with a chunk of decaying wood as a prop. Council members were offended the mayor held it with little notice while they were in the middle of their annual retreat.

Similarly, McGinn appeared unprepared at his State of the City address, speaking off-the-cuff and skipping the thank-yous and niceties that are expected in the mayor's annual speech to the council.

"Am I sure I know what I'm doing?" McGinn asked. "Am I doing the right thing? I'm always trying to figure out how I can do things better."

By his September budget address, McGinn had mastered more of the theater of being mayor. He packed the Rainier Beach Community Center with supporters and presented a budget that attempted to shift more city resources to poorer communities.

To balance a $67 million shortfall without raising taxes, he brokered a deal with the city's unions and persuaded the City Council to raise street-parking rates and freeze police hiring. The council approved it with minor adjustments.

Nimble responses

In what could have been some of his most difficult moments — dealing with questions about police conduct and the city's response to a snowstorm — McGinn was in his element.

Hiring a new police chief was a challenge for a new mayor with little public-safety experience. But two videotaped, highly publicized incidents complicated McGinn's decision with questions about department training and culture, as well as allegations of racial discrimination.

Just weeks after he selected Chief John Diaz, a Seattle officer shot and killed a First Nations woodcarver who had been walking down the street holding a knife and a piece of wood. McGinn ordered a reorganization of top Police Department managers and said he would welcome a federal probe of the department.

McGinn met with community leaders after the videotaped incidents and attended vigils for the woodcarver, John T. Williams.

While government leaders find him snide in discussions of transportation policy, McGinn seemed to strike the right tone with community leaders and family members angry about the police.

Community activists were allowed to ask questions at news conferences, and McGinn left his office to meet with demonstrators at City Hall after the Williams shooting.

He also seemed at ease dealing with a Thanksgiving-week snowstorm that crippled the evening commute.

Nickels took a political hit after a 2008 snowstorm when he insisted the city responded well. McGinn admitted to problems with the city's preparation right away, and he vowed to fix them.

As the weather worsened, McGinn talked about more than just salting the streets for drivers. He hurried to house 100 homeless campers in an unused fire station while the city prepares them a long-term site in Sodo.

"As a politician, the guy's on a learning curve," said Tim Harris, a homeless advocate and one of McGinn's most outspoken supporters. "But as somebody who expresses the sort of values that I think resonate with Seattle and people who have an investment in seeing economic justice in this city, the guy's a hero."

Not too late?

McGinn's critics say he can rebuild relationships with the council. There still may be time, they say, for Seattle to smooth things over with the state and present a united front in the next session of the Legislature.

Business groups felt left out of McGinn's administration at first, but joined him in August when he announced his Seattle Jobs Plan. Business leaders say he should seek their help on future initiatives, to bring them back into the fold.

"I think when you disagree with people, there are certain ways to effectively disagree without alienating them, and I think that's a skill that he needs to work on," said local attorney and former chairman of the Greater Seattle Chamber of Commerce Tayloe Washburn, a tunnel supporter.

But McGinn does not see damaged relationships as a problem.

"If you listen to a bunch of insiders, they'll tell you what I could do to be the consummate insider," he said. "I think I was elected to represent the people."

He ran on a platform of fixing Seattle schools, improving transit and building citywide broadband. All of those goals have been slowed by the economy.

A more pressing concern as he pursues his agenda this year could be a shortage of political allies.

The white board in McGinn's office has a daily to-do list, complete with a fill-in-the-blank item for each day: "Be nice to _____."

Emily Heffter: 206-464-8246 or eheffter@seattletimes.com