THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Wednesday, October 5, 1994 TAG: 9410050029
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E1 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: REALPOLITIK
SOURCE: BY KERRY DOUGHERTY, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Medium: 95 lines
WOODPECKERS WERE spotted circling Roanoke's Market City Gym Friday.
Word was in the air Vice President Al Gore was campaigning with Sen. Chuck Robb in the Star City of the South. Politicians don't come any more wooden than these two.
But the tree-loving birds were in for a surprise. Both men were uncharacteristically animated.
``I love campaigning with Al Gore,'' Robb shouted, the arteries in his neck pulsating as he leaned into the microphone. ``He's the only person who makes me seem exciting.''
Not so fast, Chuck.
While Robb was loud, it was Gore who delivered the real barn-burner speech, peppered with Letterman-like jokes about himself.
``If you use a strobe light, it actually looks like Al Gore is moving,'' he quipped.
If Dan Quayle had learned to laugh at himself the way Gore does, he wouldn't have reigned four years as National Nerd.
Unfortunately, all that energy was wasted on a very small flock of Robb supporters.
And Robb, who calmed down after almost-hysterical introductory remarks, seemed to bore his own crowd - some actually drifted toward the buffet tables, others struck up noisy conversations - as his speech droned on and on and on.
This group hadn't coughed up $25 each to see Chuck Robb.
``We want Gore. We want Gore,'' chanted the Robb supporters who had been tantalized long enough by the visage of the sweating Vice President, leaning on his crutches a few feet from Robb.
They got Gore. And that's an indication of how lifeless the Robb campaign is. Robb called in Al Gore - the prince of the pulseless - to energize his re-election bid.
As Robb delivered a seemingly endless introduction to the ``man from Carthage'' his audience began begging for Gore.
One friendly heckler blunted the attack: ``But we still love you, Chuck.''
``Great, then I'll go on for another 30 minutes,'' Robb deadpanned.
The crowd booed.
The event was billed as a ``barn dance.'' But there was no barn, no caller and the gleaming parquet square in the center of the room had nary a scuff mark by evening's end.
And although the gym could hold four times the number of people who showed up for Robb, only about 56 metal folding chairs were scattered about the cavernous room, leaving enough space for a half-court basketball game.
The lack of seating had Tracy Janutolo fuming.
``Damnnnn,'' moaned Janutolo, a retired Postal Service worker and full-time Democratic organizer from Bluefield. ``I drive two hours to this thing and have to sit on a trash can. Damnnnnnn.''
Janutolo, sporting a pencil-thin mustache and a Bret Maverick-style bow tie with a golden saxophone tacked to one side and a golden donkey on the other, had a few observations on the upcoming election from his perch on a plastic garbage can.
Not surprisingly, he predicted Robb would win.
``Every colored person in Virginia is going to vote for Chuck Robb,'' he confided in a low voice.
Janutolo had some advice for Lynda Bird Robb.
``She should stop hanging on Chuck so much,'' Janutolo warned. ``She's always clinging to him. I know why she's doing it, but it looks dumb.
``I hear they're bringing in Lady Bird,'' Janatolo added hopefully. ``That would be something. We get to see Lynda Bird all the time.''
Lynda Bird does tend to drape herself over her husband, and in return he takes every opportunity to gush over his ``bride.''
``There's no penalty in politics for outmarrying yourself,'' Robb said while praising his wife for campaigning harder than he does.
Lynda Bird never spoke, not so the audience could hear. During Gore's speech she smiled, embraced her husband and whispered in his ear.
One can only wonder what she was saying and whether she mentioned Virginia Beach.
During Chuck's speech she performed non-stop deep head nods that would give an ordinary mortal whiplash. Nancy Reagan had the gaze. Lynda Robb has the nod.
Afterwards, when Lynda Robb was handed a poster to autograph that had first been signed by her husband, she wrote above his name ``Lynda &'' like high school sweethearts in a yearbook.
Outside, in Market Square, a knot of Ollie North supporters was in a shouting match with Robb's people.
``Ollie, Ollie, Ollie,'' chanted the sign-toting crowd which numbered about 20, mostly Students for North from James Madison University and Mary Baldwin College.
``We love Chuck, we love Chuck, we love Chuck,'' Robb's gang yelled back.
It was enough to scare away any woodpeckers still hoping for a wooden politician to peck.
Occasional dispatches on the offbeat side of Virginia's 1994 U.S. Senate race. by CNB