THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, August 16, 1996 TAG: 9608160582
SECTION: FRONT PAGE: A1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY ROBERT LITTLE, STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: SAN DIEGO LENGTH: 85 lines
Convention delegate Tom DeBusk's seat was so close to the front he could have thrown it there, except for all the media gnats and party hotshots it would have cracked on the head.
Two rows up, four photographers bobbed and weaved around Christian Coalition director Ralph Reed, while a guy with a boom-mike blocked the view of the podium. Farther forward, three newspaper reporters, two television cameramen, a security guard and Gov. George F. Allen captured any shred of visibility that might have leaked through.
``It does seem,'' DeBusk understated, ``this is a center of activity.''
Elsewhere on the convention floor, guys like DeBusk languished in the vast anonymity of 1,000-plus GOP nobodies.
But DeBusk was just seats away from the spotlight, and for one reason alone: He's from Blacksburg. A Virginian.
At a Republican National Convention, being from a state like Virginia is akin to riding the flagship. You get plush seats, rub shoulders with the brass, and your captains give guidance to the top commanders.
Other delegations have their political attractions: The Bush boys from Texas, Sonny Bono from California, and a whole assortment of Gerald Fords, Dan Quayles, Strom Thurmonds and the like.
But few states can match Virginia's celebrity abundance.
There's Adrian Cronauer, Virginia's Hollywood curiosity. The ``Good Morning Vietnam'' disc jockey has become a mainstay of the state GOP.
Ollie North was in San Diego this week broadcasting his radio talk show, and stirring up little whirlpools of convention-goers every time he swam through the crowd.
Liz Taylor's husband No. 7 John Warner stayed home, but his name still caused a few flutters. When Alaska Sen. Ted Stevens urged delegates Wednesday to support Warner's re-election bid, he got a rousing cheer. They don't boo Warner anymore in the Virginia GOP.
And, of course, there's Allen, who may be governor back home but is still regarded as a Redskin's football namesake around the nation.
``It's like star-gazing,'' remarked Katherine Reid, a guest of the pesky Delaware delegation seated behind Virginia.
The commonwealth also has claim to a few pseudo-residents known more for their Washington connections than their Old Dominion addresses. Colin Powell lives in Northern Virginia, though he's not a formal state delegate. Ditto for Pat Buchanan.
And then there is the conservative Christian category, in which Virginia clearly is without peer.
Lynchburg minister Jerry Falwell, he of the now-defunct Moral Majority, delivered the benediction for Wednesday's session.
And perhaps topping the state's list of Republican celebrities are religious broadcaster Pat Robertson and his chief lieutenant, Ralph Reed, who walk the convention floor like rock stars in dark suits.
Their connections with the Chesapeake-based Christian Coalition, described as one of the most influential forces in American politics, guarantees a perpetual tail by all the major networks, not to mention the reporters and autograph seekers looking to bask in it all.
It's not all champagne and caviar, of course. Virginia's prominent religious conservatives might ensure the delegation respect inside the GOP kingdom, but on the protest-rich streets they're often the most derided. To continue the flagship metaphor: They're the first thing hostile forces try to blow to pieces.
On Sunday, the Washington, D.C.-based Interfaith Alliance held a rally protesting Robertson and Reed. The group came all the way across the country specifically to lambaste Virginians.
They weren't the only ones. Robert P. Kunst, an outspoken gay activist and talk-radio host from Miami Beach, came to the Christian Coalition rally Wednesday carrying a cross bent into a swastika, to protest the ``Christian Reich.''
Virginians likewise had 25-year-old Californian Charles Lowers fired-up enough to travel down the coast in protest. Except he said they aren't conservative and Christian enough. Lowers stood outside the rally leaning on a graphic four-foot photograph of the bloody head of an aborted fetus, saying the coalition should do more to stop abortion.
Still, from Lowers' perspective, his home state is no political picnic.
``As far as I'm concerned, take all the liberal welfare experts and Pete Wilson fascists out of California,'' Lowers said. ``And replace them with Virginians. We could use some Virginians out here.'' ILLUSTRATION: HUY NGUYEN/The Virginian-Pilot
Pat Robertson used his moment in the spotlight to display his
support for the Dole-Kemp ticket. While he and the Virginia
delegation were generally well received, one group crossed the
country to protest Robertson and other religious conservatives.
KEYWORDS: REPUBLICAN NATIONAL CONVENTION 1996 by CNB