Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, November 13, 1994 TAG: 9411140093
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: D1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: LANDMARK NEWS SERVICE
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
Other moments, just as telling, somehow never made it into the media torrent that gushed from the campaigns.
One final burst of images from reporters' notebooks gives a fond look back at a contest that you must admit was one whale of a show:
\ Lynchburg, Friday, Sept. 30: North comes the closest to being the pope of conservative Republicans. Ambitious GOP presidential contenders showed fealty during the campaign by coming to Virginia to kiss his ring and pay homage to his nationwide mailing list of 250,000 conservatives.
Bob Dole. Phil Gramm. Lamar Alexander. Jack Kemp. Dick Cheney. Even moderate James Baker.
Former Vice President Dan Quayle did them all one better by headlining a country club luncheon in Lynchburg, which featured both North and the Rev. Jerry Falwell.
Quayle, who has written an autobiography to add some heft to his lightweight image, was surrounded by reporters as he departed.
Asked why he was wearing a Band-Aid on his right index finger, Quayle said he cut himself slicing a tomato.
Then came the inevitable - but unanswered - question: ``How do you spell it?''
\ Norfolk, Monday, Oct. 10: If North has a list of things he would do differently, this likely would be on it:
While criticizing Clinton and saying the U.S. military has been cut too much by yellow-bellied liberals, North was asked by a television reporter why he would question the country's military strength when American troops were headed to the Persian Gulf.
North answered with the shot heard 'round the campaign.
``Bill Clinton is not my commander in chief,'' he said sternly. ``Hopefully, in 1996, Bill Clinton will be out looking for work, and the world would be a better place because of it. And Bill Clinton's life will be better, because we will have lowered his taxes.''
He caught heat for that remark. And it wasn't as if he wasn't warned.
``They're hungry this morning,'' state GOP chairman Patrick McSweeney said before the news conference, gesturing toward the media representatives. ``They haven't been paid for a week.''
``Really,'' North responded with a smile. ``Do they work for the Department of Defense?''
\ Norfolk, Tuesday, Oct. 11: Every once in a while, the candidates would address the issues. And they didn't always have the answer in their back pocket, either.
Take Robb, who appeared on the Pat Murphy talk show on WTAR radio and was bashed by the host for supporting limited bans on firearms.
``I'm a private citizen, and I want protection,'' said Murphy, pounding home one of his favorite program topics. Robb responded that the government provided protection.
``And who's going to protect me from them, senator?'' Murphy fired back.
Robb wasn't quite ready for that one.
``Hopefully,'' he said, ``the, the, ah, ah, the, the, ah, the, the long peace-loving nature of our American people.''
\ Roanoke, Friday, Oct. 14: Robb broke his self-imposed silence on the womanizing question during an interview with the Roanoke Times & World-News.
He expressed frustration over the media obsession with personal peccadilloes during his term as governor in the mid-1980s.
In his view, an elected official's private life should be ``nobody's business'' as long as it doesn't affect the performance of his public duties, Robb said.
Robb added that the media could not even accuse him of hypocrisy because he had always been ``agnostic'' when it came to marital fidelity.
``It would be hypocrisy,'' he said, ``if I were preaching a different game than I was playing.''
\ Herndon, Saturday, Oct. 22: Robb looked miserable stuck in traffic at the back of the Herndon High School parade.
``I've never had this much performance time,'' he said.
With his open convertible going nowhere, Robb talked with some people gathered along the parade route. Robb is so uncomfortable with small talk that North once remarked: ``I don't think he likes people. He doesn't like being out of Washington.''
An opportunity for chitchat presented itself when 8-year-old Zachary Wright, in a football uniform with grass-stained knees, shyly approached Robb's car.
``Did you have a game today?'' Robb asked, displaying a keen sense of observation.
Zachary nodded.
``Who won?'' Robb asked.
``We did.''
``Uh, what position do you play?''
``Guard.''
``Oh, yes, guard,'' Robb said. ``Guards slug it out in the trenches. They don't get a chance to, uh, unless there is a fumble, or they can hit a linebacker who comes through the line.''
Pause.
``Did you make any good plays?'' Robb asked.
``Yeah.''
A really long pause.
Robb finally reached down and shook the boy's hand.
``Good luck.''
A bewildered Zachary walked back to his mother on the curb.
\ Richmond, Friday, Oct. 28: Handlers put the rhythm-impaired Robb on a ``no dance'' rule after his performance at the NAACP state convention, where Robb - alone on the dance floor - flapped around like a chicken in distress.
A few weeks later, Robb found himself moving to the beat of a marching band at a Norfolk parade. Robb, with his back to the band while shaking hands with the crowd, clenched his fists, waved his arms and shuffled his feet.
``OK,'' he said, turning to get a look at the band.
He found himself standing inches from a junior high cheerleader who, as part of a dance routine, was undulating her hips in a most suggestive way.
``Oh,'' Robb said, turning on his heels, ``I better go this way.''
\ On the road to Charlottesville, Tuesday, Nov. 1: Don Gabbard, a grim-faced North devotee and former Marine, led reporters on what would be one of many merry chases as the driver of the 32-foot motor home dubbed ``Rolling Thunder.''
It was nothing personal with the press, apparently.
After a roadside lunch break while driving from Chantilly to Charlottesville in the campaign's final week, Gabbard left yet another driver scrambling for his keys and rushing to catch up.
Who was that victim of Gabbard's diversionary tactics? North's 24-year-old son, Stuart.
\ Spotsylvania County, Wednesday, Nov. 2: Robb, not noted for witticism, couldn't resist during a tour of a General Motors Corp. plant when he spotted a poster that read: ``Protect our competitive edge ... When in doubt, shred it.''
Said the senator: ``I'm standing next to an Ollie poster.''
\ Harrisonburg, Thursday, Nov. 3: As dusk fell, Rolling Thunder made a right turn off U.S. 11 and into the parking lot of Sportsmen's Specialties.
Two reporters, the remnants of a 20-plus contingent that began the day with North, jumped out of their cars expecting to witness North press flesh and swap hunting stories with the NRA crowd inside.
Instead, North was escorted through a back hall and into the basement, where aides said he was going to place a scheduled conference call to 250 grass-roots coordinators around the state. It was a Doonesbury-esque scene: North in a gun shop bunker giving final marching orders to his conservative army.
When he emerged 45 minutes later, North brushed past reporters who wanted to talk with him about polls showing momentum slipping away from his campaign.
``I'm not worried about polls,'' he said with a smile and a wink. ``They always under-count Republicans.''
\ Chesapeake, Friday, Nov. 4: On a covert campaign stop at Wal-Mart, a fretful North aide pleaded with the only reporter present: ``Do me a favor, don't ask Ollie any questions for about 10 minutes while I'm gone.''
Ollie's handlers put their candidate on a short leash after his unscripted comments about Social Security, Saddam Hussein and President Clinton.
``Every time they let him off his leash,'' quipped Robb spokesman Bert Rohrer, ``he makes a puddle.''
\ Urbanna, Saturday, Nov. 5: Warner may not win all his bets - the Coleman candidacy comes to mind - but when he does, he collects.
Susan Magill, Warner's chief of staff, wore a pensive look as she watched the senator and Republican sidekick Henry Doggett wander off at the end of the Oyster Festival Parade.
``They're up to some mischief,'' she muttered.
Warner had bet Doggett before the parade that he would get more cheers than jeers from the crowd. ``And I did,'' he roared. ``Three-to-1 in favor.''
Now, the silver-haired senator, who loves to shop and dresses like a guy in a Dewar's ad, was making Doggett pay up. Doggett wore a handsome, yellow Brooks Bros. shirt, and Warner wanted it.
So as Coleman stood by, barely noticed, Warner could be seen in the background, trading shirts with Doggett.
\ Norfolk and Portsmouth, Saturday, Nov. 5: There was an eerie disconnection between the urgency of the moment and the nonchalance of Robb's rhetoric as he shook hands along the parade route at Norfolk State University's homecoming celebration.
``Good morning,'' he said repeatedly.
Here he was, reaching out to African Americans, fueling his last-minute momentum with the casual greeting of a Saturday stroll in the park.
It was the same disconcerting calm that at various times during the campaign left some with the impression that Robb's heart wasn't in it.
But Robb changed his message later that morning at the I.C. Norcom High School parade.
``Tuesday's the big day!'' Robb shouted. ``Need your help on Tuesday.''
The crowd responded in kind.
``Knock 'em out Tuesday!''
``Chuck, baby!''
``We got you, Robb.''
Robb dashed back and forth across the street, as matronly women screamed his name and enveloped him in bear hugs.
The normally composed Robb was so carried away that his black hair was tousled and his necktie was slung over his shoulder.
\ Roanoke, Monday, Nov. 7: Peggy Wilhide, Robb's press secretary, was thrilled to open the morning paper and spot the headline: ``R.E.M. backs Robb.''
She showed it to the senator, who was unfazed.
``What's Rem?'' he asked, pronouncing the legendary rock group's name as if it rhymed with ``Tim.''
Coleman had attended a Rolling Stones concert with his teen-age son. North had jived with rocker Ted Nugent in a Richmond radio studio. But Robb, when told that Don Henley of the Eagles had given him $1,000, replied, ``I didn't know the Eagles were in town for an exhibition game.''
At a postvictory news conference, Robb conceded that he had learned much during the campaign.
``I guess one of the revelations ... is there is a musical group called R.E.M.''
\ Richmond, Monday, Nov. 7: Never say Virginia Commonwealth University students lack political passion. A day before the election, the X Generation chanted head-to-head:
The pro-Robb students: ``No Ollie Hitler! No Ollie Hitler!''
The pro-North students: ``How was Tai? Were you high?''
The senator's wife, Lynda Bird Johnson Robb, was not amused as she huffed through the crowd: ``Didn't anyone teach them manners?''
\ Vienna, Monday, Nov. 7: For thousands of Northern Virginia commuters, the Metrorail station towering above Interstate 66 is the end of the line, the last stop on the daily train ride from work to home.
And in late afternoon, Coleman reached the end of the line in what likely was his last campaign for public office.
Twice a loser for governor and a long-shot independent bidding for the Senate, Coleman had to know what was coming. But he was game to the finish, bantering with reporters and shaking hands with weary commuters.
Shadowing him were Woody and Dwight Holton, the now-grown sons of Virginia's first Republican governor since the early 1880s. Linwood Holton was among Virginia Republicans who bolted the party to support Coleman after North's nomination.
The Holton boys like Coleman, too, at least personally. But their political arithmetic suggested he couldn't win and might actually help North by splitting the anti-North vote with Robb.
So, as Coleman greeted commuters, the Holtons stood nearby with signs: ``A VOTE FOR COLEMAN IS A VOTE FOR NORTH!'' Occasionally, Woody yelled: ``Withdraw! There's still time!''
Most commuters ran the gantlet impassively, refusing literature and passing by Coleman's outstretched hand. But many stopped, and some had a word or two, morsels for a starving man.
``God bless you,'' one said. ``I'm with you,'' another whispered. Coleman savored every gesture of support, however small, and kept at it - into the darkness.
\ Chantilly, Tuesday, Nov. 8: A tongue-in-cheek sayonara was left for reporters calling the North campaign office on Election Day.
``Thank you very much for your fair treatment and wonderful coverage, and we look forward to working with you in the future.''
End of message.
End of campaign.
Compiled by staff writers David M. Poole, Robert Little, Alec Klein, Margaret Edds, Dale Eisman and Greg Schneider.
Keywords:
POLITICS
by CNB