As his Thursday retirement as Provo City Council executive director nears, he's not about to change. The retired Army colonel soldiers on and doggedly tries, at every opportunity, to shift attention away from himself and onto the council or his successor, Terry Ann Harward.

"They're a brave group," Dowling says of the council he's served for nearly a dozen years. "I would never want to run for public office."

While Dowling, 66, is reluctant to talk about himself, current and former council members do not share his reticence. He is free to go quietly - after a little fanfare.

"He's done an incredible job," says Dennis Hall, who left the council in 1995. "He's had the ability to not get political but give us the information we needed to make informed decisions."

In Provo's strong-mayor form of government, the council is designed to act as a check to administrative power. But until Dowling was picked over 77 applicants as the council's first executive director, mayors essentially ran the executive and legislative branches.

With Dowling at the helm, that quickly changed. He set meeting agendas, organized activities, ensured council members understood their roles and had sufficient study time before voting on issues. The office also assumed control of Provo's neighborhood program.

A former deputy commander of U.S. Army Space Command who supervised seven astronauts during the latter stages of his 30-year military career, Dowling brought managerial skills that helped him oversee the council. And political potshots did not faze the former battalion commander and combat veteran, who had dodged very real bullets in Vietnam.

Former Councilman Greg Hudnall recalls chairing a heated meeting in the mid-1990s, when tempers were surging out of control.

"Everyone was yelling and screaming and Ted leaned over to me and said, 'Quiet dignity.' In other words, he was telling me not to get heated [with the crowd]. With his military background, he brought a higher level of professionalism and accountability to the council."

Dowling also brought near-perfect attendance. Of roughly 280 public council meetings during his tenure, he missed only two: both times due to serious illness. On the job, Dowling's behind-the-scenes work with elected leaders helped Provo secure the shopping mall it had sought for decades as well as save Academy Square from the wrecking ball; it is now the municipal library. He also helped the council weather maelstroms swirling around issues such as topless dancing, fight club and former Mayor George Stewart's decision to ban Sunday swimming at Provo's public pool.

Dowling has fond memories of Stewart.

"You could argue with him and remain friends," he says. "And he would change his mind if you could convince him he was wrong."

After marathon meetings, Dowling often joined Stewart and council members for 2 a.m. dinners, at which the mayor had the habit of eating food off of others' plates.

"Ted is a very military and orderly type of guy," Hudnall explains. "So when the mayor leaned over and grabbed something off his plate, he about fell over."

Hall jokingly recalls Dowling's tendency to talk too much - he doesn't know how to whisper - during meetings. Within the director's view but out of public eyeshot, Hall would display an open hand, quickly close it and then point his index finger upward. The message: Shut up.

"It became a standing joke between us," Hall laughs.

Councilwoman Cindy Richards says Dowling has a softer, sentimental side. En route with Dowling to a meeting in Salt Lake City not long ago, she received word that her father, Glen Orton, was having difficulty breathing.

"He drove me to my father's house and helped me and the paramedics put him on a stretcher," Richards recalls.

Orton, an Air Force veteran, died later that day.

"Without saying anything to anybody, and very respectfully," she adds, "Ted showed up at my father's burial in Ogden. He was in full-dress uniform and he stood there at attention to pay respect to my father."

Dowling's retirement plans are more casual: lots of golf and joy rides on his Harley-Davidson. On his final day on the job, he plans one last informal get-together with current and former council colleagues.

"I'll take them to lunch and say, 'Thanks for the ride.' "

meddington@sltrib.com