Photograph by George Sakkestad

Our photographer showed up on Lee and Roberta Bowman's 35th wedding anniversary and found them on the deck playing with their soft-coated Wheaten terrier, Annie.

Moving On

Lee Bowman believes when a job's done, it's
time to go on to the next thing

By Dale Bryant

Ask Lee Bowman what he thinks about "monster houses," and he may tell you that the town's FAR (floor-to-area ratio formula) has made it more difficult to build oversized houses on small lots in Los Gatos than it is in other communities. He may even say it with the slightest hint of satisfaction. But don't expect him to share his personal opinion on the modern trend toward huge houses.

For more than 25 years, the town's planning director has sublimated his own views to carry out the policies of the town. His job is to know the ins and outs of the planning process and to advise policy makers what they can and can't do--based on existing policies.

But ask Bowman about the home he and his wife, Roberta, are designing in Ashland, Ore., and it becomes clear that he is a man with a fully developed personal vision about the importance of good planning.

The Bowmans first traveled to Ashland not looking for property for themselves, but for assisted living for Roberta's parents. Their search took them to Mountain Meadows where they found a retirement community under construction that according to Lee, "makes use of modern planning principles"--by which he means housing designed with a sense of community.

"We were particularly attracted because it had three things we really liked," he says. "No walls, no gates and no golf course."

What it also had was a housing mix that includes condos, townhouses, apartments and single-family detached houses. Houses are custom-built according to the owners' specifications, and the community--with a minimum age restriction of 55--features Craftsman style homes with front porches. The concept of Mountain Meadows is "aging in place." The Bowmans decided it was exactly the kind of community in which they'd like to grow old. According to Roberta: "It's a community like where you grew up."

Bowman will retire as Los Gatos' planning director at the end of this month, and has agreed to consult with the town for six more months. Meanwhile he and Roberta are finalizing the floor plan for their house, using as their "bible," The Not So Big House--A Blueprint for the Way We Really Live, by Sarah Susanka.

Roberta's parents will be living in an apartment in the same neighborhood, where they'll enjoy services appropriate to their needs--including meals.

"It's not cut off in any way from the greater Ashland community," Bowman says. Already, he has his sights on Ashland's historic preservation committee, and Roberta, a retired children's librarian, is planning to introduce the concept of Grandparents and Books to the local library--something, incidentally, she introduced to the Los Gatos Town Library, where she volunteers as a "grandma reader."

Planning director Lee Bowman prepares a bouquet from his cutting garden.

Photograph by George Sakkestad





Finding a Better Way

Lee Bowman, 58, wanted to be a planner before he knew there was such a profession. He grew up in Southern California where almost weekly, he watched orange groves dug up to make way for development. "I became fascinated with how cities develop," he recalls. "I knew there had to be a better way." But when it was time to go to college, no one offered an undergraduate degree in planning, so he studied political science and economics at UC-Riverside and then earned a master's in planning at UC-Berkeley.

Bowman began his professional career at a time when communities had begun to think there might be such a thing as too much development. "In the '50s, it was typical for planning commissions to be made up of Realtors and developers," he says. "Everybody was into growth; it was part of the post-war mentality. Newspapers were great growth-boosters. You'd see headlines saying how terrific it was that another development was going in."

Bowman refers to Los Gatos in the '60s as "pretty much an old boys' network." Victorian homes were not something to cherish in those days, but something to plow under. "There were plans to turn the Almond Grove area into apartments. University Avenue was zoned all the way down as commercial," he says.

Voice of the People

Bowman came to Los Gatos in 1973 after nine years as a planner in San Mateo. By the time he arrived, Los Gatos had a pretty good sense of who it was. And that was just fine with Bowman.

"Communities have an opportunity to decide who they want to be," he says. "I hate seeing towns that don't make that happen."

One way Los Gatans define themselves is by participation in the planning process. Another planning director might have had a hard time working in a community where residents are so adamant about their right to a voice.

Elaine Breeze, development manager for SummerHill Homes, is well acquainted with the town's planning process--and with planning in other communities. "One of the real pluses about Los Gatos is that people are so involved," she says. But she's also well aware of the challenges that can present for a developer--and for planning staffs. "Few cities have so much input from the community," she says. "In many cities, if a developer gets staff approval, that's it. People respect that the staff is made up of professionals."

Breeze recently made a presentation at Bowman's invitation to a meeting of the Santa Clara County Association of Planning Officials where she went step by step through the long process which resulted in approval of the SummerHill project now under construction on Blossom Hill Road.

"The other planners seemed shocked at how complex the process was," Breeze says. "And one planner who wasn't from Los Gatos muttered, 'Everything's a big deal in Los Gatos.'"

In Los Gatos, everything is a big deal. And residents make no apologies for their passion.

In most cities, notices are not sent to neighbors to notify them of proposed residential additions. In Los Gatos, neighbors are notified so they can attend the Planning Commission meeting--and now that story poles are part of the planning process, orange netting reminds neighbors of just how much bigger the house will be. Frequently, the issue ends up being appealed to the Town Council--where neighbors once again turn out in force to make their opinions known at another public hearing.

Lee Bowman strikes a familiar pose at a Planning Commission meeting.

Photograph by Jeff Kearns





Unflappable Bowman

A few weeks ago, an architect at a public hearing took exception to Bowman's recollection of a date. According to one observer, the planning director jumped out of his chair and disappeared. When he returned with the original application, he read it pointedly to the council. Those who were at the meeting are still abuzz.

"That's the first time I've heard him raise his voice," says Len Pacheco, who's been on the Historic Preservation Committee and the Planning Commission for a number of years. "Lee's not commonly ruffled."

In fact, those who know Bowman say he has a remarkable ability to keep his emotions under control and to move on once a decision has been reached.

Mike Abkin, who served on the Planning Commission for nearly 10 years, says of Bowman, "He doesn't fret for a long time when things go differently than he had hoped. Buddhists call it 'nonattachment.' Once it's done, it's done."

Bowman says he's always been able to move on, but that's probably because he never leaves anything half-done. His sixth-grade teacher even acknowledged this obsession when he wrote a note on the young Bowman's report card expressing concern at the boy's "incredible desire to finish things."

Bowman doesn't just practice his "do a job, finish it, move on" philosophy at work. His idea of a pleasant weekend at home is starting off with a long list of chores. "I love crossing things off lists," he explains with a shrug.

Bowman's ability to move on to the next thing has served him well, sitting as he does in the town's hot seat.

While Bowman may see his role as simply carrying out policies of elected officials, he's an easy target for anyone unhappy with planning decisions. Councilmember Linda Lubeck says when she was first elected, one of her developer friends said he hoped she'd get Lee Bowman fired. "A lot of people blame the planning director for everything," she says.

Brent Ventura, a former member of the Town Council, who recently completed a stint with the county Planning Commission, says, "A planning director is always in a lose-lose situation."

When Ventura was elected to the council in 1980, that certainly seemed to be the case. In 1978 Tom Ferrito and Pete Siemens had run on an anti-development platform. It was a contentious campaign whose posters proclaimed "Enough is enough!" Ventura's election two years later shifted the council majority, and prompted a drive to get rid of all department heads--especially Bowman, who was perceived at the time as a "developer's planner."

Recalling those days, former Councilmember Joanne Benjamin says, "A good staff person takes the direction of the people making policy. Lee did that."

Bowman survived, with his unflappability intact. Council, after all, can't fire department heads, but Bowman concedes the blow-up punching bag his staff gave him at the time got a workout.

What about that rare moment when Bowman dug the file out and emphatically read the dates to the council? The planning director's numbers were correct. Of course. Bowman is noted for having a memory like an elephant. Says Pacheco: "He knows where everything is buried."

Rumor has it the town asked Bowman to stay on as a consultant for six more months because they're trying to figure out how to download his brain.

According to Abkin, "He remembers details of applications from years ago. That's of such value at planning meetings."

Often when Bowman comes to the rescue with some historical fact, it's when he looks to all the world as if he's enjoying a good snooze. That's another Bowman trademark--leaning back on his chair, hands clasped behind his head, eyelids shut tight. He's not asleep.

Town Character

Eric Morley has been a Lee Bowman observer for a long time, first as community liaison and legislative analyst for the Los Gatos-Saratoga Board of Realtors (later PenWest) and in recent years as a consultant to developers. He says of the retiring planning director: "If I had to pick one person who, over the last 25 years, has had the single greatest influence in shaping Los Gatos and preserving town character, it would be Lee Bowman."

Although Bowman is a behind-the-scenes planning director, his influence can't be denied in such key areas as historic preservation, the below-market price housing program and restrictions on hillside development.

Joanne Benjamin was mayor when the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake hit Los Gatos. Town officials and residents met quickly after the quake and decided they wanted to encourage historic preservation in the rebuilding. "We wanted to put things back the way they were--and put things on the fast track," she recalls. "Lee totally agreed this was the way to go and said the town wouldn't charge fees for those going the preservation route."

Planning Commissioner Sandy Decker says: "We have Lee to thank for so much of our historical ambiance. He steered policy, protected us from demolition, encouraged tighter design requirements, calmed fears and secured county, state and federal help quickly enough after Loma Prieta to keep us from becoming another Santa Cruz where historical buildings were lost forever."

The Hillside Specific Plan came as the result of what Bowman refers to as "inappropriate development in the hillsides." The town sued the county, and the result was a 25-member citizens' committee that in 1978 created the Hillside Specific Plan. Bowman and a county planner staffed the committee. In recent years, using the Los Gatos-county plan as a model, other West Valley cities have entered into agreements with the county to keep the hillsides from becoming overdeveloped.

Bowman points to the below-market-priced housing program, which requires residential developers to designate units in new projects to be priced below market rate, as one of the accomplishments of which he is most proud.

He says, however, he fears the one thing that will change the character of the town is the soaring cost of housing. "We've always prided ourselves on not being a one-strata town. Now people are asking can their children afford to live here."


Photograph by George Sakkestad

Lee and Roberta Bowman cut sweet peas in their cutting garden.




Act of Faith

When Lee and Roberta Bowman pack up and move to Ashland--in the spring if weather permits timely construction of their new home--the most difficult part of the move will be leaving their garden behind. It won't be easy, for instance, to walk away from the towering redwoods they planted from 1-gallon containers 25 years ago.

The Bowmans are passionate about gardening. Their yard looks like the work of an award-winning landscape designer, but they do all their own work in the labor-intensive garden, from landscape design to deck building. Around the side of the house, they grow vegetables and flowers for cutting. "Gardening is an act of faith," Bowman says. "You plant beds in the fall to get flowers in the spring."

At the end of June, the sweet peas are almost finished for the season. Bowman can't imagine a garden without sweet peas. They were the flowers his family took to the cemetery every Memorial Day, and the flowers he and Roberta have planted every year since they were married 35 years ago.

The Bowmans have two children, a daughter, 34, who lives in Fortuna and is a teacher, and a 30-year-old son, an attorney who lives in Portland. By any measure their children are successful. Still what Lee and Roberta seem most proud of is the fact that their children enjoy gardening.

"We never made the kids participate in the garden," Roberta recalls. "We never said you have to spend 15 minutes pulling weeds. I guess they just saw that we got so much pleasure from it."

Bowman says his son has had trouble growing sweet peas, but they were better this year than last. And when he tells you that his son "tills the soil and plants everything from seed," you get the impression he couldn't be more pleased if he was reporting that his son had just argued a case before the Supreme Court.

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