Kirk fund-raiser to feature Clinton - Texas Senate Race Democrat Candidate (New York Fundraiser)

Democratic Senate candidate Ron Kirk, who in April said Bill Clinton needed to "rehabilitate" himself before lending a hand on the campaign trail in Texas, is using the former president for a top-dollar fund-raiser in New York.

The event, organized by Kirk supporters and billed as a reception honoring the former Dallas mayor, is scheduled July 17 at Jimmy's Downtown in Manhattan with Mr. Clinton as the special guest.

It is the first known Kirk campaign event that will be attended by the former president, although his wife, New York Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton, was among the listed hosts for a recent Washington fund-raiser for Mr. Kirk.

"It's not surprising that President Clinton is raising money for Democratic candidates across the country," said Justin Lonon, a Kirk spokesman said Tuesday. "You have a party leader helping Democratic candidates, just as Republicans are utilizing their leadership in their races."

In April, Mr. Kirk was not enthused about getting Mr. Clinton's help after he announced that he would stump for Democrats across the country.

Mr. Kirk, in turn, said Texas was "probably not the best place for the former president to begin his rehabilitation."

According to Mr. Lonon, Mr. Kirk stands by his remark. "I don't think you will see him campaigning in Texas anytime soon for any candidate," he said.

Mr. Kirk's Republican rival, Attorney General John Cornyn, has criticized Mr. Kirk for his fund-raising trips outside of Texas. And Cornyn aides Tuesday were quick to ridicule the Clinton fund-raiser.

"I guess the prospect of hundreds of thousands of dollars in soft money contributions has accelerated President Clinton's rehabilitation in Kirk's eyes," said Dave Beckwith, a Cornyn spokesman. "He is clearly gambling that voters will forget about his Clinton connection by November."

Reception organizers are asking for donations ranging from $1,000 to $25,000. The money will be earmarked for the Texas Victory Fund, a joint committee developed by Mr. Kirk and the Democratic Senatorial Campaign Committee.

The fund can accept contributions for political activities larger than the federal law limits on individual donations of $1,000 to a candidate for a primary, runoff or general election.

Mr. Kirk has said his summer strategy has involved raising enough money to be competitive with Mr. Cornyn, who he says will outspend him.

Mr. Kirk is trying to become the first black senator elected from Texas and the third black senator elected in the United States since after the Civil War. The combination of his potentially historic campaign and the Democrats' one-seat majority in the Senate is making Mr. Kirk a national figure.

"Because of Clinton, Democrats were on the defensive because of the moral issue," said David Prindle, a political science professor at the University of Texas at Austin. "But now Enron and WorldCom have Republicans on the defensive because of immoral big business."

President Bush and Congress have promised a swift crackdown on corporate mischief.

"Big business has diminished the outrage people feel about Bill Clinton," Mr. Prindle said.

I didn't see that article, but just searched the DMN archives and found it:

Ron Kirk: Not your father's politician

Democratic nominee shuns firebrand approach of old

07/07/2002

By GROMER JEFFERS JR. / The Dallas Morning News

LAS VEGAS – As the bodacious sounds of slot machines and other games of chance blared in the background, Ron Kirk tried to make his way to the lavish buffet at the Mandalay Bay Casino and Resort.

But his newfound fan club, a collection of black elected officials at a national conference, wouldn't let him go. They constantly shook his hand and pulled him to the side for small talk and encouragement in his bid for the Senate against Republican rival John Cornyn.

Like gamblers looking for a sure thing, these Democrats embraced Mr. Kirk for running on a pro-business, bipartisanship record – a campaign far removed from the firebrand tactics of black politicians whose careers were rooted in the civil rights movement.

"He's got a different approach. But sometimes it takes a different approach to break through," said Donald Afflick, a New York labor leader and member of the Democratic National Committee's Black Caucus, which invited Mr. Kirk to the group's summer retreat last week in Las Vegas.

GUILLERMO MUNRO / DMN

By his own account, Mr. Kirk says he's a different kind of black Democrat.

"George Bush got elected by saying he was a different kind of Republican," said Mr. Kirk, not at all hesitant to invoke the name of his state's favorite GOP son in his race against Mr. Cornyn, the attorney general.

"There's been a generational shift in politics," he said. "If you're still doing things the same way you were doing them 30 years ago, then you're out of touch."

It's a change from the historical efforts by black political legends such as the late New York Rep. Adam Clayton Powell Jr., the late Rep. Barbara Jordan of Texas and the Rev. Jesse Jackson.

Unlike those campaign trailblazers, Mr. Kirk, 48, doesn't talk much about racial equality, the civil rights struggle or any facet of the black liberation movement.

That's to be expected, analysts say, because minorities seeking higher office today know that they must not only tap the potential of black and Hispanics voters but also appeal to whites who turn out in greater numbers in general elections.

"The glass ceiling is breaking for black candidates, and a new generation of black politicians are beginning to emerge," said David Bositis, a senior analyst for the Joint Center for Political and Economic Studies, a Washington group that researches minority issues. "Ron Kirk represents that new breed."

In 1989, David Dinkins campaigned in his successful race to become the first black mayor of New York by energizing a black electorate determined to push change after recent racial strife. In 1995, Mr. Kirk combined the backing of business leaders and overwhelming support from minorities to become Dallas' first black mayor.

Where Harold Washington hit the streets to register 100,000 mostly black voters in his 1983 race to become the first black mayor of Chicago, Mr. Kirk attended coffees and teas in white homes in the Park Cities and North Dallas as he geared up for this year's Senate contest to replace retiring Sen. Phil Gramm.

Not everyone is happy with Mr. Kirk's style.

Roy Williams, the Dallas activist who is running for Senate on the Green Party ticket, said Mr. Kirk is a "master of deception."

"People are being led to believe that he can relate to all of the oppression that black people in this country have felt," said Mr. Williams, who is black. "It's not true. It's self-serving, and Kirk is taking advantage of our need for a hero and our need to have some kind of a victory."

Mr. Cornyn, while not commenting on the politics of race, said the former mayor's need to appease many groups makes him as shifty as a speckled trout. "My opponent's campaign is a mile wide and an inch deep," Mr. Cornyn said.

His spokesman, Dave Beckwith, said Mr. Kirk flip-flops on the issues or refuses to take a stand. "He thinks that if he hides how he's going to vote on every issue people are going to somehow think that he's bipartisan," he said.

Mr. Kirk dismisses the criticism and says he is focusing on the concerns of all Texans, including preserving Social Security and developing a prescription drug program for seniors. He's in line with much of the Democratic Party's platform, including supporting abortion rights and opposing the use of public money on private schools.

Broadening appeal

Mr. Bositis said Mr. Kirk is wise to craft his message so it appeals to most Texans, adding that it's necessary in a Republican-leaning state that President Bush calls home.

"If you want to run for the top offices, you'll find that most voters will be white," Mr. Bositis said. "So that means you can't afford to speak to just a black audience. You have to develop a broad base of appeal."

Jerry Polinard, chairman of the political science department at the University of Texas-Pan American, agreed. "Texas is a conservative state, and no traditional liberal is going to win statewide office," he said.

Mr. Polinard said the campaign style being utilized by Mr. Kirk is not new.

"Henry Cisneros had the same model when he became mayor of San Antonio. George Bush used it when he first ran for governor to reach out to Hispanics. They both were able to cross over."

Mr. Kirk grew up in segregated Austin, the son of the first black postal worker in Austin and a schoolteacher who was a civil rights organizer and remains a respected Austin political figure.

Mr. Kirk said his exposure to the civil rights movement helped lay his political foundation. "I still have the core values of inclusion and political participation," he said.

After serving as an assistant attorney and lobbyist for the city of Dallas, he was appointed by Gov. Ann Richards in 1994 as the first black secretary of state.

Soon afterward, business and civic leaders in Dallas tapped Mr. Kirk to make a run for mayor. In office, he was credited with winning voter approval of pro-business projects such as the American Airlines Center arena and the Trinity River project.

Critics such as Mr. Williams say he ignored the concerns of the city's largely black and Hispanic neighborhoods. And according to various studies, the city is in short supply of affordable housing.

"These are things that could have been addressed during his years as mayor," Mr. Williams said. "But because of his allegiance to the business community and others, they were ignored."

Mr. Kirk rejected that, saying that during his tenure, the city secured millions of dollars in economic development and infrastructure improvements in southern Dallas.

"All you have to do is visit some of the office parks and see the ground being broken on the University of North Texas campus to judge what has been accomplished," he said.

Others say Mr. Kirk's legacy to black Dallas residents can be seen in other ways.

"He's perhaps the biggest role model in the history of Dallas politics," council member James Fantroy said. "Because of Ron Kirk, my teenage son feels like he can be anything he wants to be."

Modern approach

For the 2002 campaign, Mr. Kirk was recruited by Democrats to join an effort to recapture top statewide posts from the Republicans. Kelly Fero, a Democratic strategist leading the party's coordinated campaign, said party leaders took note of Mr. Kirk's modern political approach.

"We felt that most of the interesting public policy in Texas was being conducted by Ron Kirk and other Texas mayors," Mr. Fero said.

National Democrats are beginning to join Mr. Kirk's fight. He has been on a nationwide fund-raising tour that the Cornyn campaign has derided as a showcase for liberals.

But participants at the Democratic Party meeting in Las Vegas said it shows Mr. Kirk has mass appeal and star power.

"People want someone who represents a cross-section of all the issues," said Clark County Nevada Commissioner Yvonne Atkinson Gates, who is chairwoman of the DNC's Black Caucus. "He can represent the business person and the working person. When you have that kind of global candidate, you have to be excited."

Paul Brathwaite, policy director for the Congressional Black Caucus, said that "times have changed, and young African-Americans around the country agree with what Ron Kirk represents. He's a lawyer who studies the economic policies related to issues. That means he figures out who gets to divide the resources."

Mr. Afflick, the labor leader, said Mr. Kirk, based on his life experiences, understood the concerns of his black support base. "If you don't know how to go home," he said, "you're in trouble."

Another caucus member, Rep. Corrine Brown, D-Florida, said oppression still confronts minorities in the political arena. She represents a Jacksonville-area district where she said many blacks believe they were victims of voting irregularities in the 2000 presidential election that Mr. Bush won.

Ms. Brown said she is excited about Mr. Kirk's candidacy, especially its historical significance. He would be only the third black person elected to the Senate since Reconstruction.

"It's a disgrace that a free country like ours is void of African-American leadership in the Senate," she said, vowing to raise money in Florida for Mr. Kirk's campaign.

Mr. Kirk said he's unmoved by thoughts of becoming Texas' first black senator.

"I have a race to win," he said. "Making history is secondary and something that I'll think about when it's all over."

E-mail gjeffers@dallasnews.com

Online at: http://www.dallasnews.com/opinion/sundayreader/stories/070702dnsunkirk.5e884.html

Thanks for the links to that restaurant.

Jimmy's Downtown
So 57th Street isn't exactly lower Manhattan, but it's downtown if you're Jimmy Rodriguez, the nightlife impresario who brought the A-list to the Bronx. Now he's luring his blend of celebrities, politicians, and athletes to the sleepy neighborhood near the U.N. Could Kofi Annan be next at the bar?

BY JAY CHESHES

Jimmy Rodriguez strides through the front door of his Harlem restaurant, Jimmy's Uptown, a duplex with an onyx bar, soft golden light, and an R&B soundtrack. Men in crisp suits and women with ziggurats of teased hair grab at his hand, begging for attention. "Hey Jimmy, how are you, my brother?" "Hey Jimmy, I really need to talk to you." Rodriguez brushes them off in a polite rasp. He glances at his watch, fiddles with his cell phone. "She's late," he says, impatiently waiting for his girlfriend to arrive. "She'll just have to eat on the way."

The maître d' brings him a vodka tonic. His chef comes out of the kitchen with a tower of grilled shrimp and avocado salad. "Can I get one of these in a container to go?" Rodriguez asks. Al Sharpton is standing at the bar; a line of cars is clogging the street outside. "We gotta get moving," Rodriguez says.

The 23-year-old he's been dating for the past seven months has just pulled up and is waiting in the driver's seat of his pearl-white Cadillac SUV. "She's one year younger than me," he says, with a mischievous grin. "Well, so what if I can't count?"

Jimmy Rodriguez is 39 years old. He is six feet three inches tall and an imposing 230 pounds. He hooked up with Carrie (he refuses to divulge her last name, perhaps in deference to his wife, from whom he has been separated for almost a decade but never divorced) after running into her one night at the China Club. "I had met her like five different times," he says. "She says that each time I'd see her I'd reintroduce myself." The China Club is a favorite haunt of the athletes who cram Jimmy's Bronx Café, the Knicks and Yankees and ballplayers from out of town who -- along with local pols and Manhattan celebrities -- helped turn it into that borough's most high-profile nightspot. In the early days, the papers anointed him the Latin Toots Shor. The label is outdated -- Toots, after all, had only one place. Rodriguez is building an empire.

"I don't want to be a multi-millionaire," he says. "I'd be happy if at the end of twenty years I've built maybe 50 places, am building another five every year, and have got like a million dollars in the bank." For a high-school dropout who started off selling seafood from an ice-filled trash can under the Bronx River Parkway, his confidence is boundless. He's preparing for the opening this month -- with a party thrown by Governor Pataki to celebrate Women's History Month -- of his third space, a sleek SoHo-style bar and restaurant on 57th Street that he's coyly dubbed Jimmy's Downtown. "Where is downtown anyway?" he asks. "When you live in the Bronx, this is downtown."

"I think it's great that Jimmy's opening in midtown," says his friend Norma Kamali later that evening in the VIP balcony at the Apollo. "Jimmy's like a magnet. He draws people to himself. He's just responding to demand." Rodriguez and Kamali have been friends ever since event planner Robert Isabell first dragged her up to the Bronx Café, an enormous complex on Fordham Road, in the early nineties. During baseball season, the three of them sit together in the best seats at Yankee Stadium.

The new place (all Jimmy's, with no investors, he claims) is set to be as visually dramatic as his Harlem outpost; Ilan Waisbrod, the designer behind BondSt and Eugene, plans to put suede on one wall, big red roses on another, and a giant red pillar in the center of the dining room. Rodriguez says he nixed a proposal to put flat-screen TVs on the ceiling in the men's room. "When a big game is on, nobody would ever leave the bathroom," he says with a grin. Despite the new restaurant's somewhat sleepy location -- on a residential block on the far eastern end of 57th Street -- Rodriguez is showing plenty of his signature confidence. "How many places do you go where you find Latinos, African-Americans, Caucasians, people from all over breaking bread, listening to jazz and R&B and old school and a little salsa and a little merengue and a little cha-cha-cha?" Of course some of the "people from all over" are drawn by the prospect of seeing one of Jimmy's boldface friends in a front-room banquette: Spike Lee, Venus Williams. Even Ian Schrager, the nightlife arbiter of a different decade, has checked out the scene. "Schrager came up to the Bronx a couple of times," says Rodriguez. "He told me, 'You've done what I did in my time without the drugs.' "

But although he surrounds himself with cops and politicians, Rodriguez's image isn't quite squeaky clean. Growing up in the Bronx, he got into his share of trouble -- a lot of which he terms being in the wrong place at the wrong time -- and even spent a week in jail. Mariscos del Caribe, the seafood restaurant he opened with his father before striking out on his own with the Bronx Café, was investigated for drug dealing. And the Bronx Café has had its problems -- gunshots on the sidewalk, alleged drug dealers inside -- enough to have sparked a temporary ban of the place by Major League Baseball in 1995. More trouble followed that same year, when Rodriguez hosted a reception for Fidel Castro and furious demonstrators lined the blocks around the Café.

Still, Rodriguez's brushes with controversy have only added to his mystique; he's at once charming and slightly sinister, Frank Sinatra with cappuccino skin. When Rodriguez swings over to the parking garage across 57th Street to grab his white Jaguar convertible, the owner throws up his hands and insists, "For you, Jimmy, no charge." Late one Thursday night, Rodriguez and Carrie pass a glamorous mob gathered on the sidewalk outside the Mercer Hotel. "Hey, it's the Post fashion party," says Carrie. "Did you get an invite?" "I don't need one," says Rodriguez. A few minutes later, he's shaking hands and chatting with the burly men guarding the door.

With Rodriguez, even the smallest favors aren't easily forgotten. "Jimmy's heavy on the issue of loyalty," says Congressman José Serrano. "No matter how successful he is, he never forgets that he comes from the streets."

Late afternoon, the day before the Bronx Café will celebrate its ninth anniversary, Rodriguez is in Katz's Deli on Houston Street, wearing a dark-blue Versace suit and eating a hot pastrami sandwich. "I have so much going on, I have to be focused, to be a little bit smarter for the next couple of months," he says. "I can't be going to bed at five in the morning anymore." He wipes the mustard from the side of his mouth and waves across the room, acknowledging a stout black guy in a World Series Yankees jacket -- "one of the guys who rakes the field in the fifth inning." Rodriguez pauses. "I can't wait for the new place to open," he says. "I'm going to target everyone and everywhere. It's close to the U.N. -- why can't I have a couple of heads of state there once a month? Why not? It's nice enough. I can make it happen."

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