Help for politician pours in, a dollar at a time : Constituents pitch in to pay campaign debts for their mayor, whom they have fondly tagged ‘the Budster.’

In a time of belt tightening and voter discontent, when most Americans are unwilling even to check off a box to donate $1 of their federal taxes to finance national election campaigns, Portland Mayor Bud Clark is being showered with small bills to help pay off his campaign debts.

Clark, known affectionately to his constituents as “the Budster,” has made unlikely news before. He is the figure in a now world-famous poster titled “expose yourself to art,” in which he is seen from the back, standing on a Portland street, wearing a hat, boots and an open rain coat, apparently exposing himself to a statue of a woman in the nude.

Clark is also the owner of a popular Portland tavern, the Goose Hollow Inn, where an eclectic group of patrons in berets and baseball caps gather. The motto of the working-class place is “Dedicated to extremes of opinion” and the saying on its matchbook cover reads: “If violence is your nature either develop your verbal abilities or leave.”

Before Clark became mayor, he had held only one elected office in his life--treasurer of his high school class.

But that experience wasn’t enough to keep him in the black during his election campaigns and, with one year left in his second term of office, he still had a $71,000 campaign debt in the form of a personal loan secured by his home.

A black-tie fund-raising dinner last fall didn’t help much either--in fact, it went so badly that it increased the debt instead of lowering it.

That was when columnist Phil Stanford of the Oregonian, feeling a little sorry for the mayor, suggested, as a joke, that the people of Portland start a “Bucks for Bud” campaign. Stanford urged voters to scrawl greetings on the bills--phrases like “Bye-Bye Bud” or perhaps “Whoop, Whoop,” the mayor’s own signature call.

The results have amazed elected officials elsewhere. So far, the campaign has generated $23,466.20. One local supporter sent a dollar bill with a newspaper photograph of the mayor--sporting a zany pair of goggles--glued over George Washington’s portrait. A law firm sent five lottery tickets and $5. A couple from Mesa, Ariz., sent $2 and wrote: “We stayed in Portland for the summer. Here’s a little help.”

The campaign debt has also been reduced by the reissuing of the “expose yourself to art” poster, which brought in another $6,900.

Late last month, the Chicago Tribune carried a story about the “Bucks for Bud” drive, and that generated new responses. One Chicagoan wrote: “Here’s my buck for Bud. Maybe if you clear up your debt you can come and run for mayor of Chicago. We need someone with a sense of humor and common sense.”

But even with all the public support, Clark has declared he is not running for reelection.

“I’m not a professional politician,” he said in an interview. “This has been like the front lines in the Marine Corps. I ran for the second term because we had not yet instituted community policing, and the convention center was not completed. I wanted to see those things done. They are done now. I have served my time.”

Earlier this month, Clark’s assistant, Diane Trudo, reported the arrival of a $50 contribution from Sen. Paul Simon (D-Ill.), who wrote: “As one who has become a Bud Clark fan, I’m enclosing a small contribution toward that deficit.”

Clark has been a colorful figure in Portland ever since his first mayoral campaign began in 1983. He is always seen with a fresh rose in his lapel (Portland is “The Rose City”) and often is seen pedaling his bicycle to meetings and appointments outside of City Hall.

At the end of his first term in 1987, one local newspaper story painted a picture of a mayor who was “politically naive” but who was “growing in his ability to manage and lead a city he so unabashedly loves.”

During his second term, Clark has received good marks for handling the city’s fiscal problems, promoting the city and the state in Asia and establishing a community approach to policing.

But perhaps his best marks came from the constituent who scribbled, “Budster, You are loved” across a dollar donation, or from the one who wrote: “Any mayor who still has a campaign debt after seven years in office has got to be honest.”

Columnist Stanford agrees.

“In most other towns, just after a victory the mayor and his aides would haul in the heavies and say, ‘we need $10,000 from each of you, thanks very much. We hope you enjoyed the lunch.’

“He’s not like that,” Stanford said. “That’s what people like.”