THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, October 9, 1994 TAG: 9410090051
SECTION: FRONT PAGE: A3 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: REALPOLITIK
Occasional dispatches on the offbeat side of Virginia's 1994 U.S. Senate
race.
SOURCE: BY KERRY DOUGHERTY, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Long : 103 lines
This race for Virginia's U.S. Senate seat is looking more and more like a dog's dinner.
Marshall Coleman suggested as much during a speech Friday morning to the Virginia Community Colleges Association in Williamsburg.
The independent candidate drew knowing laughter as he related the tale of a well-known dog food company.
Seems that several years ago one of the country's largest dog food manufacturers saw its sales drop sharply. Millions were spent on advertising and commercials. Still the sales dwindled. Labels were jazzed up. The cans sat on the shelf.
Finally, the dog food executives called an emergency meeting to discuss why they weren't selling dog food.
One executive ventured an opinion.
``The dogs don't like it,'' he said.
Coleman said that's what's happening in Virginia where at least 32 percent of the voters recently surveyed by the Mason-Dixon polling organization don't like what's being dished up by the two main political parties.
After a steady diet of Chuck Wagon for six years, the voters are begging for something different. They've sniffed the Ollie Ration, but don't find it appetizing, either.
Marshall Coleman thinks it's time to try his brand - Mighty Dog. (Maybe that should be Underdog.)
Coleman's theme these days, which he delivers to small audiences and even fewer journalists, is that the frontrunners are so badly flawed that their sorry strategy is to beg voters to compare them with each other.
It's the I'm A Bad Dog But The Other Guy Is Rabid Syndrome.
``They don't want to compare themselves with me,'' Coleman complained. ``They don't want to debate me, they don't want voters looking at me.''
Coleman spent Friday on the Peninsula meeting first with educators, then lecturing in two government classes at William and Mary. Later he trotted through Patrick Henry Mall before shaking hands during the afternoon shift change at the Newport News Shipbuilding gates.
The William and Mary classes were Government 306 - political parties. Assistant professor Scott Gerber, who invited Coleman, said he was using this year's senate race as a case study.
Gerber noted that his 10 a.m. class was 60 percent Republican while his 11 o'clock class was 60 percent Democratic.
``I don't know what that proves other than Democrats like to sleep late,'' he said, shrugging.
(An apt description of the Robb campaign. The alarm clock at Robb headquarters went off several months after the campaign had started.)
Coleman accused the political parties of arrogantly nominating creeps and crooks and then expecting voters to obediently vote for them.
``First, we had Bill Clinton going into Chicago saying Dan Rostenkowski was OK,'' Coleman said, perched on the edge of a desk. ``Well, he's not OK and everybody knew it.
``And you've got people in Washington, D.C., saying Marion Barry is OK. He's not OK and everybody knows it. Now, you've got people coming into Virginia saying Chuck Robb and Ollie North are OK. They're not OK and most everybody knows that.''
But the well-organized College Republicans and Students for North lurking in the lecture hall were ready for Coleman. They distributed North literature before Coleman arrived, and several parked themselves in the front row wearing big blue and white ``Ollie'' buttons.
During the question-and-answer portion of the class, College Republican president Akram Khan challenged the independent.
``How can you expect people to vote for you when you're a three-time loser and you flip-flop on the issues?'' he demanded.
Down, boy, down. What a kick in the canines.
But Coleman didn't flinch. He knows some think he's the Harold Stassen of Virginia.
``Is there anyone in this class who has never lost a footrace, or a class office or a girlfriend?'' he asked. ``Part of the American way is to get back up after you've been down and try again.''
``I don't mind if the people who have never lost anything vote for my opponents,'' Coleman added. ``I'll gladly take the votes of every other person in the commonwealth.''
Even Khan, a 20-year-old student with a love of Ollie North in his heart and a pro-life button on his shirt, seemed subdued after Coleman's rejoinder.
Later, as Coleman greeted shoppers at Patrick Henry Mall, he introduced himself to Don Felling of Yorktown.
``What this country needs is a third party,'' Felling said, pumping Coleman's hand. ``We've got a logjam in Congress, we need new people. I'm voting for you.''
If Coleman had a tail it would have been wagging.
Felling, wearing a denim shirt and sunflower necktie, said he had been a classmate of Oliver North's at the Naval Academy.
Did Felling sense, in their plebe year, that North was destined for greatness?
``No,'' he replied. ``And I don't sense it now.''
As Felling turned to walk away Coleman grinned.
``You know what's hurting me?'' he asked. ``North's class wasn't big enough.''
Woof.
KEYWORDS: U.S. SENATE RACE VIRGINIA CANDIDATES
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