PSU Magazine Fall 1995

Listening to the West The Pacific Rim Economic Conference brought together on PSU's campus the nation's highest ranking elected officials including the president and vice president, with government, busines , and community leaders from the five western states. Their agenda: to discuss ways of improving the living stan– dards and economic security of middle-class Americans. No direct policy statements resulted, but none were envisioned when the president convened the conference in June. Instead the event was a chance for those inside the "Beltway" to listen to people from diverse backgrounds talk about the effects national policy has on a rancher in Madras or a jet manufacturer in Seattle. Two-hour panel discussions focused on the regional economy, strains on modem working families, and change in an era of open markets. A free- wheeling discussion with the president and vice president filled the rest of the day. Speakers urged the president to create high-wage jobs, lower trade barrier , and slash federal regulations. Still others told how federal programs like those for dislocated workers had helped them tum personal disaster into a second chance. PSU President Judith Ramaley says the day demonstrated the importance of gathering comments from a wide diversity of people before making critical public policy. "I learned again," she wrote in the an opinion piece for The Oregonian, "that there is much more to decision-making than announcing the decision itself. Of first importance is framing policy questions clearly, then gathering and sifting through ideas and concerns. The conference was an important, visible part of the president's process of decision-making. D 6 PSU MAGAZINE FALL 1995 Park Blocks for a live broadcast to the world . C rews "planted" 4,500 potted flow– ers using the Disneyland technique– setting potted plants on the ground and covering the pots with bark mulch. That prov ided an instant ex travaganza of bloom that also allowed the flowers to later be pl anted throughout the campus as originally planned. Somehow on Tuesday, June 27, Smith Mem rial Center stood ready. Under the unblinking gaze of the Secret Service, dignitaries entered the ballroom, which was closed to the public along with the rest of the build- The Park Blocks and Broadway were lined with satellite-topped media vans. Cables snaked their way into Smith Center. ing, while media swarmed the cafeteria and lounge. Alone in the ground-level lobby, President Ramaley looked out onto the courtyard between Smith and Neuberger Hall and waited for President Clinton. The motorcade approached, the presidential limousine pulled up, and Clinton strode to the lobby. "What struck me," Ramaley later recalled, "was that he seemed to be focusing on the moment. He was there and spoke to the real me." They talked briefly about the mission of urban universities. Later, Clinton used some of Ramaley's comments as part of the conference discussion-further evidence that he had noted that moment on the landing. The day progressed with only minor glitches-like doubling the number of lunches to be se rved an hour before mealtime-and ended with Clinton and Gore shaking hands with many PSU employees who had made the day work . As the motorcade left , employ– ees adj ourned to a "wheels up" party– the name given by pres idential organizers to the workers' ce lebration after Air Force O ne takes off and its landing gear retracts. "For me the significance of this conference was threefold," says Ramaley. "We aw that our mi sion as an urban Uni versity is compatible with national purpo es. Secondly, many pe pi e on this campus saw just how good they are-their normal stan– dard of work astonished the White House teams. And thirdly, in the eyes of our community-our neighbors, the people who dri ve past every day or who attended class here 20 yea r ago--;-PSU grew in stature... I only wish it were poss ible to individually thank everyone who made this event po ible, including the people who kept the campus running fo r everyone else." Perhaps, that's not necessary. "Everybody's proud of what we did and to have been part of this event," says Brian Chase , facilities director. "It was a lot of work, but we did a lot of bond– ing, and we got a lot out of it. Not too many people get to do something like this for the pres ident of the United States. It's a once in a lifetime chance." D (Melissa Steineger is a Portland freelance writer.) Security: 'What If?' On the rooftops of PSU buildings, shadowy figures aimed high-tech spotter– scopes on the placid West Hills. Elite security teams poked into every cranny at Smith Memorial Center. On one of the hottest days of the year, every window in unairconditioned buildings facing the Park Blocks was shut tight. Glass-fronted Millar Library withstood a request to close during the busy summer school se sion. Welcome to Presidential security in the 1990s. For John Fowler, head of Campus Safety and Security, preparing for the nation's top elected officials meant supplying answers to hundreds of "what if' questions from the Secret Service. What if the 32-car motorcade comes under sniper fire while alongside campus buildings and drivers must efficiently move their passengers out of harm's way? What if terrorists deploy onto the campus and the president, vice president, and cabinet members must each be moved to safety by different routes? What if bad guys infiltrate PSU work crews as they move through secure areas? "It's one thing to talk in the abstract about presidential security," says Debbie Murdock, PSU assistant to the president for Government Relations, "but when a Sectet Service agent talks about setting up an escape route for President Clinton and designating a room to provide medical services, that was pretty sobering." Campus security increased expo– nentially four days before the event as expensive security equipment and the national media began arriving. The department's 11 uniformed officers went on overtime shifts, and six Student Campus Watch Patrol members helped provide "eyes" around campus. The day of the event, with anti-sniper teams on the rooftops, Secret Service agents issued limited-movement security passe to everyone with business in Smith. Security was so tight, that Ron Ritchey, assistant director of Facilities, was barred for more than an hour from entering the area where he was needed to open doors for the Secret Service. Eventually, an agent with authority gave Ritchey a badge permitting him to roam freely through the secured areas. "The stand-out thing in my mind," says Fowler, "was the flexibility and spirit of cooperation of the PSU staff. We were all working 12 and 14 hour days or longer under very stre sful conditions. There were changes and prob– lems every minute, but nobody moaned or groaned or got angry. We just worked together and got it done." D FALL 1995 PSU MAGAZINE 7