They Want Their Issues Recognized

But seriously...

That could be the campaign catchphrase for many of the political nobodies vying for governor in California’s recall election. Their prospects of winning might be a joke, but their reasons for running are as serious as a civics lesson.

They view the drive to oust Gov. Gray Davis as a unique opportunity to have a voice in the arena of big-dog democracy. With no primary election to weed them out, they get to contend directly for the end prize, head to head against the major candidates.

All it took for most of them were 65 petition signatures, a $3,500 filing fee -- and their willingness to risk association with the clowns in the contest.

“I’m not one of the loons,” said Ronald Palmieri, a Bel-Air attorney who is making his first bid for elected office. The Democrat joined the race mainly to rail against the recall as a threat to gay rights.

Palmieri said removing Davis could land a Republican in office who is less sympathetic, or even hostile, to AIDS treatment programs and measures outlawing discrimination against gays. He wants no votes.

“Winning is an illusion of grandeur that is almost psychotic,” he said of his prospects and those of the other unknowns on the Oct. 7 ballot. “But my campaign is very serious. My goal is to educate voters that this is a very dangerous election.”

The sideshow elements of the recall campaign are inescapable. The 135-candidate field features Hustler magazine publisher Larry Flynt, adult film actress Mary Carey, former sitcom star Gary Coleman and melon-smashing comedian Leo Gallagher.

Even the front-running Republican, movie muscleman Arnold Schwarzenegger, is tabloid fodder. And among the no-names are those who were inspired to run by a comet sighting or who hope their candidacy will promote sales of their micro-brewed beer.

But there are plenty of sober-minded types like Palmieri. Their ranks extend from physicians to laborers, small-business owners to community activists, retired civil servants to twentysomethings barely on the career path.

They have similarly varied political philosophies -- and ambitions. Some say this could be their only campaign; others seem to be treating the recall as top-down training for a future shot at the state Legislature.

Few expect to run much more than a token campaign, waged largely on Web sites.

“The thing is, will their voice be heard?” said Steven Erie, a political science professor at UC San Diego. “Will it be picked up by the media? If not, they’ll be invisible candidates.”

Erie wonders whether the legion of candidates, however earnest, serves the common weal: “I don’t know what difference it makes, except that it might discourage people from coming to the polls because of the long ballot.”

Palmieri, 53, insisted that his candidacy will have the opposite effect. He said he will use his contacts in gay political circles to drum up turnout against the recall, though he is vague on the details.

The attorney, whose celebrity clients have included Zsa Zsa Gabor and Cary Grant, is a financial benefactor of Democratic officeholders. He has given money to former President Clinton and his wife, U.S. Sen. Hillary Clinton (D-N.Y.), and to U.S. Sen. Dianne Feinstein (D-Calif.).

“There are enough people who owe me enough favors that my message will get out,” said Palmieri, as he sat in the dining room of his marble-floored home, which sprawls across a ridge overlooking the Getty Center. The house is filled with art and antiques, including 12 Federalist-era dinner plates bought at an auction of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis’ estate. A Rolls Royce sits in the driveway.

Palmieri said he has buckets of money to spend on a campaign, but it will be low-budget. So far, he has paid the $3,500 fee plus $2,500 for his 250-word ballot statement -- the maximum length allowed, at $10 a word. He said he would lose about $50,000 in income by scaling back his law practice for the next 50 days to focus on the campaign.

He has no professional staff. Hiring one, he said, would be foolish.

“Ninety-five percent of the candidates can’t be elected, and people should not waste their votes on them,” said Palmieri, a tall, balding man who smiles easily and smokes a great deal, plucking one cigarette after another from a gold monogrammed case.

“I will not vote for myself,” he added. “Everyone asks me, ‘Why are you wasting your money and your time on this?’ Then, when they realize that I consider myself a non-candidate, they are enormously positive. They say, ‘Thank you for doing something to protect gay rights.’ ”

Heather Peters says she also encountered initial skepticism about her candidacy. The 37-year-old Santa Monica mediator and moderate Republican had never been politically active.

“But I’m not crazy,” she said.

She decided to jump in after her choice for governor, former Los Angeles Mayor Richard Riordan, opted out.

“It was an interesting morning,” Peters said of the day she told her husband, Jeffrey Bonhach, a wine company executive. “I said, ‘I want to run for governor.’ He said, ‘Uh, OK.’ ... A lot of people thought I was kidding.”

Peters is only slightly more optimistic about winning than Palmieri is. “I’m not delusional,” she said with a laugh.

She was going over position papers in a second-floor conference room in Santa Monica’s posh Water Garden office park, where she mediates lawsuits.

Peters described herself as “a very centrist candidate” who could not survive a Republican gubernatorial primary, in which conservatives tend to set the agenda. She demurred when asked if the recall election is her trial heat for a later campaign.

“This is just an extraordinary opportunity for someone with no party backing to communicate with voters,” she said. “I’m experiencing a moment in history.... If I can open people’s eyes to the process, that’s rewarding enough.”

She favors abortion rights and “sensible” gun controls, and says reforming the state’s costly workers’ compensation system is crucial to attracting industry to the state. Schwarzenegger has embraced the same positions, but Peters says she doubts his ability to “execute.”

“California needs a mediator, not a ‘Terminator,’ ” she said, then quickly apologized for the sound bite.

Friends have helped Peters design a Web site and draft press releases. But fund-raising is minimal. “I’m not financially well-backed,” she said.

To reach voters, Peters is snapping up invitations to address business groups and appear on local cable TV shows. “It lives and dies on free publicity,” she said of her campaign.

Peters, a trim blond, said she rejected the advice of one supporter to spotlight her looks in a campaign slogan. “He said, ‘How about, “I’m running on these legs?” ’ “ she recounted. “No.”

Sunny-haired Brooke Adams could be Peters’ younger sister -- much younger. She is 25, and her age is central to her campaign.

“California is in a state of distress, and my generation is inheriting it,” she said. “I’d like to represent my generation on serious issues.”

Adams, running as a non-partisan on the male-dominated ballot, earns a living selling ads for business magazines in Santa Monica and West Hollywood. Her father is an Orange County judge and her mother teaches French. They put up the $3,500 to place her name on the ballot.

“The last time I ran for election was in high school,” she said.

The Dana Point resident has to squeeze in her campaigning between work assignments.

“This is probably my third interview,” she said.

She avoids taking many specific stands. But she advocates a flat rate for the state income tax and limiting government services to illegal immigrants. “We can’t afford it,” she said.

Adams said 30 friends are helping her stage an e-mail blitz aimed at young voters and a rally at USC, her alma mater. She also says she will travel to Modesto next week at the invitation of a minor-league baseball team.

She says she sees nothing ludicrous about urging voters to hand California’s governorship over to her if Davis is recalled. And while she concedes that the race could be a tune-up for a later run to win a state Assembly seat, Adams maintains that she is in this one to win.

“How do I convince people?” she said. “With my seriousness.”