Once upon a time, in the mid-1980s, a man named (if I remember rightly) McCutcheon approached a farmer and orchardist named George Douglas with a sporting proposition. "How would you like," asked Mr. McCutcheon, "to sell me 150 of your acres, where I can build a golf course? I can pay a lot more per acre than what farmland is selling for." "Fine with me," said Mr. Douglas, and they struck a deal that was conditioned on Mr. McCutcheon getting approval from the county land use people to put a golf course on the Douglas family's farmland. Once Mr. McCutcheon had his land use approval, he would buy the land, and the Douglases would get their money.
The only hitch was that the Douglas acres were not just any farmland (land-use-wise), but were in the middle of Sauvie Island, the most protected patch of farmland in Multnomah County. (Cynics might say that the county protects it not so much for farmers as for bicyclists, but that's a story for a later time.) Mr. McCutcheon, who was only 25 years old at the time, had the good sense to stay in the background and to ask Mr. Douglas to present his case to the county planning commission.
Mr. Douglas, who died this week at age 84, had dirt under his nails and a sort of "aw, shucks" air to him, and he had little trouble getting the county planning commission and then the county commission to approve the project. The county planning staff did ask how much traffic the golf course would generate, and Mr. Douglas, backstopped by one of the local traffic experts, gave some numbers, based on Mr. McCutcheon's projections of how many people would come to Sauvie Island to golf.
Not too long afterward, Mr. McCutcheon realized that he had made a mistake. An area of 150 acres was enough for a golf course, clubhouse, and restaurant, but it wouldn't be enough to allow the golf course to host a tournament, because the spectators would need room to stand and their cars would need room to park. Another 50 acres would do the trick and work quite nicely.
So Mr. McCutcheon came back to the county to ask for permission to make the course 200 acres, instead of 150 acres. (George Douglas had land to spare.) In the meantime, County Executive Gladys McCoy had appointed Mr. Douglas to the county planning commission, the body that was to vote on the application. When the time came for the hearing, Mr. Douglas stepped down from the dais, walked around to the microphone, and presented Mr. McCutcheon's case. This time, however, the county staff said "no," telling the commission that the traffic study for the golf course covered only golfers and people eating at the restaurant, but didn't make any allowance for spectators. As Mr. McCutcheon didn't have any evidence that the island's two-lane roads could handle the spectators that would come to a tournament (think about what Scholls Ferry Road is like when Portland Golf Club hosts the Fred Meyer Classic), the county couldn't approve adding 50 more acres for the spectators.
The Knower of All Things says that the planning commissioners later told Mr. Douglas that they were sorry they had to turn him down. "That's all right," he said, "McCutcheon already bought the 150 acres." Later on, Mr. Douglas brought in some peaches from his farm and passed them around to the other commissioners and the planning staff.
The golf course was never built, and the land is farmed to this day. George Douglas enjoyed another 20 years of growing corn and selling peaches. I haven't heard what happened to the developer.
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