Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: MONDAY, January 24, 1994 TAG: 9401240005
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: C-1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: WARREN FISKE STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
The Doug Wilder years are over.
The combative former governor, who took the press-room gang on a joyride of historic campaigns and controversy, announced earlier this month that he's out of gas. Rather than run for the U.S. Senate this year, as he had promised, Wilder has opted for the comfort of private life, possibly to write a book.
"What'll we do now?" one reporter asked - only half in jest - the day after Wilder's announcement.
What reporters are lamenting is the loss of a source of great copy. Perhaps no Virginia politician ever made as much news as Wilder. If you could corner Wilder for two minutes a day on his way to lunch, chances are you'd walk away with a good story. Journalists never had it better.
I share the disappointment. I came to Richmond in 1985, as Wilder was finishing a campaign for lieutenant governor and proving that a black candidate could be elected to statewide office in Virginia. During the next eight years, Wilder was always the big story. He was often overbearing, unpredictable and less than candid, but never dull.
We met at an airport in October 1985, awaiting a flight to Roanoke. I introduced myself, and within 30 seconds he was slapping my arm and speaking as if we'd known each other for years.
A few weeks later, Wilder delivered the most gracious speech I've ever heard when he was elected lieutenant governor. The site was the old John Marshall Hotel, and Wilder recalled waiting tables there as a youth. He invoked the memory of his mother, saying if she had lived to see his victory she would warn him, "Don't let your head get too big, because you know you didn't get there by yourself."
After the speech, Wilder hit the street to shake hands with hundreds of cheering black supporters. I bumped into him and reintroduced myself. "Warren, we met at the airport," he said with surprise. "Don't you remember?"
Interviewing Wilder always was an experience. He could carry on for an hour as if he were baring his soul. But when I'd return to the office and listen to the tape, I'd frequently realize that he hadn't explained a thing.
Sometimes he lied. Sometimes he bullied. Always, he wanted to be the center of attention. The highlight was when Wilder ran for president in 1991 - perhaps his biggest mistake. For me, it was a chance to see Wilder's limitations.
Wilder grew increasingly angry at the press corps as his gubernatorial term wore on, blaming us for his drop in popularity and for focusing on his constant fights with other Democrats. In the final months of his administration, he refused to grant private interviews to newspaper reporters.
If another governor behaved similarly, perhaps journalists would be glad to see him go. But another governor never made so much news.
by CNB