He has pledged to help control the rapid growth that has seen new homes and an industrial park spring up in this town of about 9,600, and vowed to demand safety reviews of the dam upstream -- which he fears could fail during an earthquake and inundate the town.
Hector said that growth had slowed considerably in the last four years, and that the dam in question had been certified as being able to withstand an earthquake of 8.3.
"I grew up in Southern California, and you know as well as I do: If you're in an 8.3, you've got bigger worries than just a dam breaking," he said.
In years past, Silverton has been known mainly as the home of Bobbie the Wonder Dog, who got lost on a road trip to Indiana in 1923 and showed up back home in Oregon six months later, apparently having walked the 2,800 miles in between.
Then there are the annual Davenport Races, in which residents propel customized couches down Main Street in honor of Homer Davenport, a political cartoonist in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, who was born just south of town.
"I like to say we're 40 miles and 40 years from Portland. Here's a place you dial the wrong number and you get in a conversation anyhow," Rasmussen says.
"It's a bucolic little town," said City Manager Bryan Cosgrove. "We're doing a lot of investments in our downtown, and we have funding challenges like any other city. As for the election, I've kind of stayed out of all the publicity, because it's not really about the city per se; it's about Stu."
Silverton appears to have come to terms long ago with Rasmussen's nebulous gender, which he describes as "25%, maybe 30% between" man and woman, and his "adoption of the twins," as the mayor-elect refers to his breast surgery. But he still manages to catch some people off guard.
"Guys come up to me in the bar and say, 'Hate to tell you this, but I saw this woman on the street the other day, and I'm thinking, great legs, nice tan, and she turns around and I go, 'Oh, my God, it's Stu!' " Rasmussen recounts in the deep voice that seems always softened with a trace of humor.
"If I could have a face transplant, it'd be perfect. A face like this, only a mother could love. But people overlook the face now," he says, glancing discreetly down at his tank top, "because there's all this other real estate."
Not long after Rasmussen debuted his new look, the City Council adopted a dress code mandating "business casual" at council meetings.
