Robert Neil McDougald

He walked 3 miles a day for the past 30 years including walking daily while in Brookdale memory care. Bob was born in Portland, Oregon. The oldest of two children, graduated Jefferson High school in 1957, was the first in his family to graduate college from Portland State University in 1961. Bob served in the Army, stateside serving 2 years.

After college Bob married a high school acquaintance – Kathryn Elizabeth Zapf on August 1963. They were married in the First Presbyterian Church in Portland. Together Bob and Kathryn would raise 4 boys – Craig, Rob, Jeff and Steven.

After college the family moved to Alameda County California where Bob took a job as a Land use Planner. Sons Craig and Rob were born in Oakland. The family moved back to Portland where Bob worked as County Land Use Manager for Washington County. Sons Jeff and Steven were born in Portland.

Bob joined the Oregon Home Builders Association working as a lobbyist and subject matter expert navigating Oregon's land use laws. Bob worked as a Real Estate Developer for several banks and private equity investors. They built large and small home subdivisions, suburban malls and office parks around Oregon, Washington, Arizona, Hawaii, and British Columbia. He was one of the key developers to bring tech to Hillsboro, Oregon building the Fujitsu plant.

Bob was an avid left handed golfer and spent time re-building the family home up until last year. He also used his skills helping with projects at the boy’s homes. Growing up the family spent time at the Oregon coast crabbing, fishing, doing too many fireworks and terrifying the local boating community.

Bob is survived by Kathryn, Rob, Jeff, Steven and a grandson, Chris.

Fond memories and expressions of sympathy may be shared at www.finleysunsethills.com for the McDougald family.

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Bob's Life Story:

I want to share some stories about Bob, Dad and Grandpa:

Dad was a developer in the Portland metropolitan area for decades. He built housing subdivisions, strip malls and commercial buildings in Beaverton, Vancouver, Lake Oswego, Newberg, Forest Heights and other locations on the west coast. If it were a good deal and money to be made, he would travel there. Many of the homes and buildings are still in place. As the Hillsboro planner and later a developer, he was well known and respected in the industry. Even today, when I mention my last name to someone who works in the industry, they often ask if I am related to Bob McDougald.

Dad prided himself on being able to fix anything instead of calling a professional. He would give it his best shot…Whether it was part of the house, beach house, roof, boat, electrical, plumbing, roof, pool equipment or the roof.

I mentioned roof several times. The beach house roof constantly leaked. There would always be a half dozen or more pots, pans, bowls…positioned throughout the cabin to collect rain dripping in through the ceiling. Of course, he frequently had to repair the same thing more than once using large nails, screws, glue, or caulking. The fact that he had to repair things more than once showed that he was terrible at it and very cheap.

He often would use one, several or all the boys as his free labor. It did not matter if it was a boat trailer, wiring or the roof. If you were one of the 4 boys, you were expected to get on the roof or go into the damp and scary mud basement to change out a fuse. Before we were teens, we knew how to nail a shingle to a roof.

I remember one time, Rob drew the short straw and was sent outside with dad to repair the roof. Dad, as an attempt for a safety precaution, tied a rope around his waist and the other end to the chimney. Once he was done with the job he climbed down the ladder and began to walk away from house. He was startled by the yank of the rope still around his waist. The rope was too long!! If he would have fallen off the roof he would have bounced a few times on the ground and rolled down the hill.

After dad was placed in memory care we decided it was time to sell the house to have a safer place for mom. While cleaning out the house we discovered that dad was not very skilled at fixing things, but was very creative. Instead of deck posts, dad used a rickety pile of scrap wood stacked on top of one another. He constantly painted the decks and stairs outside. The process involved pressure washing and sanding the dry rotten boards and then applying several layers of thick paint. In plumbing he either did not know that you could buy straight pieces of pipe or there was a large sale on corners. Most of his plumbing in the pool pump shed and around the house used an excessive number of turns and corners…as opposed to a straight line. Many of the lighting fixtures were wired backwards or did not work.

There were lots of unnecessary large nails, screws, glue and tape. He never nailed it in all the way…but left a bit out so he could remove later. He was clearly a land developer and not a home builder.

Dad loved snacks. Every night he had either ice cream, BBQ chips, pork rinds, cashews, dry roasted nuts with a large glass of diet Pepsi. Most of the time he had multiple snacks and sometimes seconds. The ice cream was smothered with either chocolate sauce, hot fudge, or marshmallow sauce. He would heat up the jars in the microwave until it was scorching hot and then pour all over the ice cream. He would enjoy these snacks on the couch in front of his little 12” TV and could only be pulled away from his unhealthy snacks to yell at the kids for being too loud or out of hand.

The salty and sugary snacks are the kind that all growing boys love. He would store these snacks in the highest cabinet or on top of the fridge … far out of reach of his 4 boys….or so he hoped. Often, we would steal from the forbidden snack cabinet with the use of a kitchen chair.

Dads’ snacks continued his whole life. He eventually would delve into making cookies for himself…Either chocolate chip, peanut butter chocolate chip or peanut butter. He would make them once or twice a week and enjoy throughout the week. They were terrible. As much as we wanted to steal some of his cookies…they were not good. Later in life, when he had dementia…he would still try to make the cookies with questionably preserved ingredients. He was a creature of habit and routine.

Dad became an obsessed walker after a heart incident brought on by years of snacks and smoking. He walked every night after work…sometimes twice if he was agitated from the kids or mom.

During retirement he walked morning, night and sometimes during the day. He would have been a great postman because he walked in rain, snow, and blistering heat.

He famously escaped memory care the first week during the hottest weekend in Oregon’s history. He walked 4 miles home in the dark. Aunt Joan, unfortunately, was staying over during the heat wave. Dad pounded on the back door and scared Aunt Joan half to death. After memory care gathered and returned him, they had a new respect for his persistency and stubbornness.

Dad loved golf. He played all over the west coast. Mom joined him on the local courses and multiple trips out of state using her easy to find pink golf balls.

When we were teens the family belonged to Rock Creek Country Club. Occasional the boys would be allowed to play there only to wreak havoc on the club. I am not sure why my parents let us boys have access to driving golf carts??

Dad was a left-handed golfer and the rest of the family was right-handed. It was challenging to play golf with him because he would give constant advice on how to improve …even though he could not demonstrate right-handed. Dad was never great at golf, but loved to play. He would always walk the course unless he was forced to use a driving cart. His walking obsession and golf went hand in hand.

Like any parent, dad tried to get us involved in sports. He was a very good baseball and basketball player. He got an offer to play minor league baseball, but instead went to Portland State University. We were forced to sign up for baseball … which none of us liked or were any good at. He would take us to the field and pitch balls to us to hit. He would always throw way too hard for our level. Eventually the ball would hit us to where we crawled off the field in tears…. while dad was screaming at us to stop crying and walk it off!!

He would often play us tennis up the street from the house. It was typically him against a couple us…with a cigarette in his mouth.

We had a basketball hoop in the driveway.

I remember Steve and I would play him two on one while he used only his right hand. (He was partially ambidextrous.) Despite all the fouls we inflicted upon him…we did not stand a chance.

The hoop was installed by him next to the driveway…where all the water rainwater flowed…creating the perfect conditions for more dry rot.

I remember Steve and I looped a rope around the hoop to hang on, pull or whatever bored kids due. Eventually the post snapped and came crashing down. Dad was not happy. He refused to put another hoop up after that. It clearly was not our fault…If that post had been installed correctly, we never would have broken it!!

Although he was very successful and made money as a developer…he was incredibly frugal. This was a problem and a curse because mom was not!! Mom would spoil the boys with toys, car stereos, waterbeds, video games, pinball machine, pachinko machine, pool table, ping pong, cable TV, many poorly maintained used cars and of course illegal fireworks purchased from an Indian reservation through a mail order catalog. And don’t forget the embarrassing amount of presents at Christmas!! Later mom would focus on bingo, slot machines, QVC and HSN. All of this drove dad crazy. A few times Dad joined Mom in Las Vegas. He did not gamble because it was a ‘waste of money’. Instead, he we would walk the casinos or the strip outside.

“Karma”

As a developer, he would buy land, clear off the structures, homes and trees then put in a road and utilities for a dozen or so houses …upsetting the surrounding home owners and neighborhoods. Eventually the same thing happened to our street. Another developer bought most of the large lot homes on our street and built homes all around our house. Dad refused to sell and held on to the house.

Having a great track record in the industry…he of course came out ahead on the deal. When we finally sold the house in February, it was the highest sales price for a home on the street, despite our house being 60 years older, not updated, and smaller than all the newer ones. It is comforting to know the new owner is remodeling the house to live in and not tearing down.

Dad’s stinginess would become a blessing as he was able to offer a college education for all four boys and a comfortable retirement for both he and mom.

Bob, Dad and Grandpa will be missed, but remembered…

-Jeff McDougald, 9/2/2022