Salem's New Guides to Order and Knowledge

August 13, 2024

Salem, Oregon. A place where things happen, sometimes slowly, and sometimes, like a sudden summer rain, all at once. On this particular Monday, the City Council convened, not to solve world hunger, but to appoint a few souls to guide the city's efforts in policing and literacy—two arenas where order and chaos dance their eternal waltz.

First, the councilors—Linda Nishioka, Deanna Gwyn, Julie Hoy, Vanessa Nordyke, Micki Varney, and Mayor Chris Hoy—raised their hands in unison, a chorus of approval. Absent were Virginia Stapleton, Trevor Phillips, and Jose Gonzalez, but such is life. The wheels keep turning.

Enter Celine Coleman, a name you might remember from the May elections, where she unsuccessfully attempted to snatch the Ward 1 council seat from Paul Tigan. Undeterred by defeat, she has found her place in the city's ever-turning machinery as the newest member of the Community Police Review Board. Here, she’ll serve as a watchdog, keeping an eye on those who are supposed to keep an eye on us. Coleman, an epidemiologist by trade, has taken on a new role: the reviewer of complaints, the external judge, the potential thorn in the side of Salem’s police force.

Her tenure on the board is set to expire on January 1, 2026. It’s a partial term, but as Coleman herself might say, it’s enough time to make a difference—or at least make some noise. She’s also found herself appointed to the Salem Human Rights Commission, a fitting addition given her background. The commission's mandate is broad—human rights, relations, discrimination complaints—but the goal is singular: harmony. Coleman’s term here will last until December 31, 2026, giving her a few good years to stir the pot or soothe the flames, depending on the day.

On the other side of this bureaucratic coin, we have the Salem Public Library Advisory Board, a group tasked with making sure the city's library is more than just a dusty collection of books. Two retired civil servants, Clyde Saiki and Cara Filsinger, have stepped into the spotlight, eager to shape the future of Salem’s literary lifeblood.

Saiki’s résumé reads like a love letter to state administration: Oregon Department of Human Services, Oregon Department of Transportation, Oregon Department of Administrative Services. Now retired, he volunteers at the library once a week, a man of many departments, now focusing on the one that smells like old paper and new ideas. His term will stretch until June 30, 2027, plenty of time to see if his vision of a community hub—a place where Salemites can broaden their horizons—comes to fruition.

Filsinger, on the other hand, is a self-proclaimed “library kid,” now a library grown-up. She spent 31 years with the Oregon Department of Consumer and Business Services and the state Legislature. She’s seen the wheels of government turn, and now, in her retirement, she’s decided to grease the gears of the public library. Her mission? To ensure that this bastion of knowledge and escape withstands the “upcoming difficult budget times.” Like Saiki, her term runs until June 30, 2027, a fittingly long chapter for someone who clearly has more to give.

And so, with these appointments, the City of Salem marches forward. The police will be reviewed, the library will be advised, and the city will, as always, continue to be a place where things happen—sometimes slowly, and sometimes, all at once.