Posted on 10/06/2003 1:11:28 AM PDT by Cincinatus' Wife
LOS ANGELES - Scott Anderson stood at the back of the crowd at the rally for Gov. Gray Davis and shouted.
"Bring down the tower of corruption and hate," he said, as people nearby tried to rip a sign from his hands. "Davis must go!"
The presence of a heckler like Anderson shouldn't surprise anyone after the unprecedented populist revolution that has swept California.
What might surprise people is Anderson is a Democrat.
Eleven months ago, Anderson voted for Davis. Three months later, after Davis revealed the state's deficit could be as high as $38-billion, nearly four times larger than he had said during the campaign, Anderson began collecting signatures for his recall.
"I didn't get paid a dime for that," said Anderson, an electrician and member of the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers.
Now, with the recall election to take place Tuesday, Anderson is not alone.
"Sixteen to 18 percent of Democrats are crossing over, which is double the early poll numbers," says Bruce Cain, director of the University of California at Berkeley's Institute of Governmental Studies.
Republicans may have engineered the recall, but Democrats are happily abetting it.
A third of the nearly 2-million signatures collected belong to registered Democrats.
Their dissatisfaction with Davis may well be the margin of victory for those who want to replace him. To remain in office, Davis must take 50 percent of the vote, a challenge given that he won in November with just 47 percent because many Democrats chose to stay home rather than cast a vote.
Even in Los Angeles, a city in which Davis has kept a home for more than 20 years, a city that has the state's largest concentration of Democratic voters, his support is tenuous within his own party.
Hispanics, blacks, women, environmentalists and Teamsters have defected to Arnold Schwarzenegger, who drives gas-guzzling Hummers and has confessed to groping women. A few even support Tom McClintock, an antiabortion fiscal hawk who has pledged to scale back rising workers' compensation costs.
These people are not hiding. They're visible even in the greasy haze that seemed to hang over the city last week. They're on the fringes of every campaign stop Davis makes. They are within the sound of his voice when he challenges them "to come together or face the real prospect of Gov. Schwarzenegger."
Many are ignoring him.
Some, like Scott Anderson, are shouting back.
Wednesday with Wesley
Wednesday morning, the first day of what could be Davis' last week of his political career, Davis awoke to a front-page story in the Los Angeles Times that showed 56 percent of people favored the recall and that Arnold Schwarzenegger was widening his lead among the replacement candidates.
Television reporters held up copies of the paper and reminded viewers that a CNN/Gallup poll released three days earlier had indicated a whopping 63 percent of likely voters wanted to remove Davis.
A large part of that anger derived from the much-loathed car tax that had gone into effect at midnight, tripling the cost for Californians to register their cars.
Davis' first campaign stop of the day was at noon at a fire station and museum in Hollywood. The draw for the event was retired Army Gen. Wesley Clark. Davis, the career politician, was looking for a boost from a man who got into politics less than a month ago.
Indeed, people in the crowd said that even though Clark had come to support Davis, they had come to support Clark.
"If Clark weren't here, I probably wouldn't be here either," said registered Democrat Guila Greer, a 59-year-old Realtor from Tarzana who held a "Wes Wing" placard. Gov. Davis is "a real live action hero," Clark said.
"He and I started in public service the same way," Clark said. "We were both in Vietnam. He served in Long Binh. He had a tough year. We're proud of you."
Oddly, the reference to Davis' war record drove home a glaring difference between the two men: while Clark's sudden popularity owes much to his military credentials, Davis' Bronze Star couldn't be less relevant to California voters.
"He's a liar and a thief," said Scott Anderson, 33, of Venice Beach, as he tried to hold his ground at the back of the crowd.
At the beginning of the race, Schwarzenegger had said the contest would be a referendum on character, not qualifications. Schwarzenegger has never held public office. For his supporters, there's no higher compliment these days.
"Let Arnold be governor," said Mark Likowski, a 47-year-old Democrat who sells cactuses at markets around Los Angeles. "Let's see what he can do. Reagan wasn't a politician either, and he did all right."
Enemies and neighbors
Gray Davis doesn't care for the bed in the Governor's Mansion in Sacramento, he has told acquaintances. So whenever possible, he sleeps in the modest two-bedroom condominium he and his wife, Sharon, have owned in West Hollywood since he was a state assemblyman back in the '80s.
Davis' condo sits in a corner of West Hollywood bordered by the extremes of Beverly Hills and Sunset Boulevard. Go west and you're on Rodeo Drive. A couple of blocks east and you're standing in front of a store called Hustler Hollywood, owned by porn publisher Larry Flynt, one of the 135 candidates bidding to replace Davis should he be recalled.
But Davis, who favors early morning walks on the building's treadmill to schmoozing on the street corner, remains something of a cipher to the people in the neighborhood.
"I was making a delivery in his building once," said Eric Fracisco, a clerk at the liquor store half a block from Davis. "The elevator was going down and it stopped on his floor. The door opened and there he was. But he wouldn't get on. I guess if you're governor, you don't get on elevators with strangers."
It's hard to imagine a career politician with as little common touch as Davis, but he is by all visible measures devoid of charm. Every smile and fist pump looks like it was determined by internal polling. When he is trying to sound angry his nasal voice makes him sound petulant and sarcastic. He is the anti-Clinton.
Told that Davis lives nearby and might be spending more time at his condo if he's recalled on Tuesday, Eileen Archer looked up from her martini and said, "Can we burn it down?"
"I'm just having a bad day," she said, apologetically. "But I hate Gray Davis. I hate him. He's like a weasel."
Now, Schwarzenegger, she said, "I really admire his work ethic. I have a friend who worked for him for years. She said he takes care of all his employees. She only had good things to say about him."
Eileen Archer, 48, small business owner, registered Democrat, Schwarzenegger supporter.
Politicians and slimy invertebrates
Last week, Davis appeared at the homey little aquarium under the Santa Monica Pier to sign a handful of environmental bills, one of which would promote environmentally friendly school curriculum.
A nonprofit called Heal the Bay, which runs the aquarium, had pushed the bill. Actor Pierce Brosnan and his wife, Keely Shaye Brosnan, both supporters of Heal the Bay, came to lend their celebrity presence to Davis, whom they described as "the best governor to date on the environment."
It seemed like a perfect photo opportunity to see the governor acting gubernatorial. As an added bonus for the media, Mrs. Elm's first grade class from Highlands Elementary in Santa Clarita was there on a field trip planned weeks ago.
The children had come to touch the sea stars and learn about invertebrates. They found themselves in the middle of the shark tank.
That morning, the Los Angeles Times had published a story about six women who said Schwarzenegger had groped them against their will in a series of incidents that stretched back to 1975. The assembled media were not much interested in global warming; they wanted Davis' response to the sensational allegations.
"Good morning, everybody," Davis said. "This is neat stuff, isn't it?"
"Yes," droned the children who were spread out on the floor in front of Davis like they were waiting for story time.
"I've been proud to go toe-to-toe with those who want to roll back the environmental clock," he said.
He reminded the audience that the day before, he had acquired nearly 3,000 acres of land north of the city to prevent it from being developed.
Somehow Davis managed to mispronounce the names of his celebrity guests, calling them "Mr. and Mrs. Bronson." Three times.
The first-graders watched with admirable patience as Davis explained each bill, credited the authors of each bill, signed each bill and then held up each identical sheet of white paper for the children to see. It took 20 minutes, but it seemed much longer. Call it, show and tell from hell.
Then Davis asked the reporters, who had the first-graders encircled, "Anyone want to ask any questions about the four environmental bills we signed here today?"
A lone TV reporter did. Everyone else wanted to ask about Schwarzenegger.
"Can you address the Schwarzenegger thing," a reporter shouted. "He's basically admitted to groping these women. What's the effect on your campaign?"
With that reference to improper sexual conduct, the press conference came to a temporary halt as Mrs. Elm's first-grade class was escorted out of the room. One mother chaperoning the field trip was not amused.
"We traveled an hour to get here," said a red-faced Maureen Fowler, "I didn't know we were going to be used as a political pawn for Gray Davis.
"By the way, I'm voting yes on the recall."
As Davis fizzles, voters burn
Davis did no more campaigning that day. He taped a segment for the next day's Good Morning America. Later that afternoon, in a car in the predominantly black neighborhood of Baldwin Hills, a young woman was tuning her radio to The John and Ken Show.
Fawntelle White, 29, single mother of two, is not the angry white male who makes up the listenership of conservative talk radio. She is a registered Democrat, who worked with at-risk teens before earning a law degree.
But on the subject of Gray Davis she is in complete agreement with John Kobylt and Ken Chiampou. The talk show hosts have for the past half year devoted virtually every minute of air time to a high-decibel championing of what they call "the populist revolution."
Among other things, she hates the car tax and the bill Davis signed giving drivers' licenses to illegal immigrants. Davis vetoed the bill twice before signing it in September, a move that was seen as an attempt to appease Hispanic voters.
"I think he committed political suicide," she said.
She said she plans to vote for McClintock.
"My family thinks I'm crazy," she said.
But her support of McClintock, the darling of the state's most conservative Republicans, has nothing to do with the allegations against Schwarzenegger.
"I don't like that groping story," she said.
By that she did not mean she doesn't like the behavior. She meant she didn't like the timing of the story.
"Those women may have asked for it," she said.
At that moment what is coming from the speaker of her old Nissan is a furious attack on the credibility of the Los Angeles Times and an indictment of Davis for having engineered a smear campaign, a charge that Davis and the Times deny.
"He may have groped some people," Kobylt said. "But my car tax went up. That's what I know."
A Teamster for Arnold
Congressman Dick Gephardt came to town Friday, the second Democratic presidential hopeful to campaign for Davis in two days.
The event was held at the port in Long Beach, one of the world's busiest container ports and a major economic engine in the region. Long Beach is heavily Democratic, and in the last election Davis captured 52 percent of the vote.
But Friday morning, despite the presence of Gephardt, a labor stalwart, and Iowa Gov. Tom Vilsack, only 50 people were in the crowd. Most were union officials. They were nearly outnumbered by reporters.
Earlier that morning, Schwarzenegger had attracted an estimated 2,000 people when his bus cavalcade pulled into Arcadia. Later that day, another 7,000 turned out for him in Bakersfield.
Davis tried to correct the impression that the state's economy is in the tank, saying 900,000 jobs had been created since he took office for the first time in 1998. As he spoke, a voice could be heard shouting from the other side of a fence about 75 yards away.
The voice belonged to Eric Beck, a 37-year-old Teamster. It wasn't clear what he was saying until you got closer and then you could see that he had scrawled a message on his clipboard:
"A Teamster for Arnold."
As he explained his position to a reporter, a co-worker named Charlie Evans, himself a Davis supporter ("It's like a marriage. You stick with it."), kidded Beck that "your union brothers are going to come over and skin you."
But Beck wasn't nervous.
"There's more of us than you might think," he said.
My first born son is a journeyman electrician. Unfortunately he's a Libertarian and I can't seem to talk him out of it!!! He despises Unions and won't join one!!!
Minor disappointment compared to how he could have turned out. Now he wants to turn Davis and ALL the Demonicrats OUT!!!
Absolutely agreed. The converse is also true. If Davis wins this thing, it will embolden the Clinton, just like the taste of blood does a vampire.
Bump!
"Can you address the Schwarzenegger thing," a reporter shouted. "He's basically admitted to groping these women. What's the effect on your campaign?"The media has such class sometimes.With that reference to improper sexual conduct, the press conference came to a temporary halt as Mrs. Elm's first-grade class was escorted out of the room.....
-Eric
Yes, but don't worry,it wasn't in a sexual way.
But the environmentalists give money and get out the vote.
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.