Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: MONDAY, November 1, 1993 TAG: 9311010108
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: C-1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: DWAYNE YANCEY STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
The 1993 campaign? No - the warm-up for the 1994 Senate race, which probably will gear up, oh, about Wednesday morning.
In the meantime, here are some things to remember this year's campaign by:
Give 'em hell, Mary Sue
Mary Sue Terry's whistle-stop train tour produced lots of pictures of the Democratic candidate for governor and her running mates waving from the back of the train.
But what you didn't see was how they killed the long hours of down time between stops. Terry, for instance, turned the tables - and offered some much-needed advice to the press corps traveling with her.
Early in the trip, Terry walked into the train's club car and found the reporters congregated around a table, joking about how to kill time during the day. One suggested they go out for beers and take a drink every time Terry repeated a certain line during her stock speech. Another suggested vodka instead.
Terry, displaying her leadership skills, quickly settled the matter: The journalists should take a shot of vodka whenever she talked about school vouchers, then chase it with beer when she talked about the Republicans leading the state to the right.
In three-part harmony . . .
Mike Farris, the Republican candidate for lieutenant governor, discovered a hidden talent during the campaign: songwriting. Or, to be more precise, parody writing.
During a light moment on the road, he and an aide authored a new version of "Hello, Mary Lou, Goodbye Heart."
This one starts off: "Goodbye, Mary Sue, hello George/Big Mary Sue, Virginia's through with you . . . "
The candidate even sang his version at a Republican dinner in Botetourt County.
Carved in stone
Speaking of music, Lt. Gov. Don Beyer made an appearance on a Richmond rock 'n' roll radio station Friday and was posed the most difficult question of the campaign:
If Mount Rushmore were redone with a rock music theme, whose visages should be carved there?
Beyer's answer: Mick Jagger, Jimi Hendrix, Eric Clapton and Bonnie Raitt - "because you've got to have a little blues."
A worm? Pond scum?
Del. Clifton Woodrum, D-Roanoke, leveled the most creative insult of the campaign - and he didn't even have opposition.
When the Gun Owners of America mailed a flier into Woodrum's district attacking him for supporting the one-gun-a-month bill, Woodrum blasted back. Woodrum zeroed in on one of the group's lobbyists, who had warned legislators voting for the bill last session that the organization would try to stir up trouble for them back home.
Woodrum noted that the lobbyist, Larry Pratt, was a former colleague in the House of Delegates, "until the people of Fairfax decided to move a little higher up on the food chain for their representation."
Fighting the last war
In many ways, Virginia's 1993 governor's race was a repeat of the 1992 presidential campaign - in reverse. Take Republican George Allen's campaign, which duplicated one of Bill Clinton's techniques: the "war room" for rapid response in the media.
During the three televised debates, Allen's camp set up a mobile "war room" off stage, complete with computers and fax machines and photocopiers. No matter what subjects were mentioned during the debate, staffers could instantaneously call up everything either candidate had ever said about that issue during the campaign. At debate's end, each journalist covering the debate was handed a thick press kit highlighting any inconsistencies in Terry's remarks and "clarifying" any gaps in Allen's logic.
"We learned a few things from Bill Clinton," Allen Campaign Manager Mike Thomas observed.
He's everywhere
George Allen and Mary Sue Terry agreed on one thing during the campaign: Larry Sabato.
The ubiquitous University of Virginia political analyst was not just quoted extensively, he was the officially agreed-upon moderator for two of the three televised debates.
Sabato would have moderated the other debate, too, except that officials at Richmond television station WRIC, the host of the event, vetoed Sabato and installed their anchorman in his place.
Virginia has an official state climatologist at UVa. Can the official state moderator be far behind?
Debate dilemma
The worst moment of the campaign was one voters didn't get to see, although they may have sensed something was amiss.
During the final televised debate, the League of Women Voters offered its services as official timekeeper. Armed with a stopwatch, a league volunteer was supposed to make sure the candidates didn't exceed their 60-second time limit.
One problem: The stopwatch kept time in 30-second increments instead, so the volunteer kept calling time before the candidates were warmed up.
In mid-debate, the league was forced to abandon timekeeping altogether, leaving moderator Sabato on his own to figure out who was talking too long.
"It was a feeling of panic - combined with an urge to kill," Sabato said. "I could have used a five-day waiting period then."
Booting up
Virginia's news media kept close tabs on the crucial footwear issue during the campaign.
Here's how often different newspapers pointed out that George Allen wears cowboy boots:
Richmond Times-Dispatch 9
Washington Times 5
Washington Post 4
Roanoke Times & World-News 4
Virginian-Pilot (Norfolk) 4
Keywords:
POLITICS
by CNB