Women: The ‘Outs’ Learn ‘Ins’ of Politics

Cheryl DeGano, a political fledgling as a newly appointed member of the Perris planning commission, was there because co-workers in the biochemistry department at UC Riverside, where she is a research assistant, pitched in to raise the $125 fee and “put me on the freeway.”

Robin Schneider, field coordinator for Santa Monica-based California Abortion Rights Action League-South, was there because her experience in CARAL has shown her that her political science degree means “absolutely nothing” out on the line.

Laddie Hughes of Palo Alto, who is planning to run in 1986 for the 12th District Congressional seat (incumbent Ed Zschau of Los Altos will seek the GOP nomination for U.S. Sen. Alan Cranston’s seat), was there because “you can never have too much reinforcement.”

The event was last weekend’s skills-building seminar for women planning either to seek public office or to participate in political campaigns. And if the consortium behind this nationwide effort seems improbable--14 groups as diverse as the American Home Economics Assn. and the Coalition of Labor Union Women--the statistics bear out that there is a need:

Women are 53% of the electorate but only about 10% of the elective officeholders. Only two states, Florida and Kansas, are represented in the U.S. Senate by women and there are only 23 women (three of them from California) among the 535 members of the House of Representatives. Only two states, Kentucky and Vermont, have women governors.

The seminar, at the Pasadena YWCA, was the second in a nationwide series of 10 that began in Chicago in November and is scheduled to conclude in mid-April in Jackson, Miss. However, groups in both Alaska and Puerto Rico have asked for seminars and the organizers, the YWCA of the U.S.A. and the Washington-based National Women’s Education Fund, hope to accommodate both.

‘Talent Denied’

The project is not, Rosalie Whelan of the NWEF emphasized, some sort of conspiracy to get women to vote only for women and turn men, regardless of their voting records, out of office; rather, Whelan said, “It’s foolish to run a corporation, a government, whatever, with only 10% participation from half of the society. That is talent denied to the society. It’s not just the equity issue.”

“When Does 14=1?” asks the promotional literature for the seminar series. The answer? When 14 organizations get together to focus collectively for the first time on increasing the numbers of women prepared to seek public office.

Cooperating organizations also include Alpha Kappa Alpha sorority; the American Nurses’ Assn.; League of Women Voters; National Abortion Rights Action League; National Council of Negro Women; National Education Assn.; National Organization for Women; the Project on Equal Education Rights (NOW Legal Defense and Education Fund); United Methodist Church, Women’s Division, General Board of Global Ministries; and Women’s Action for Nuclear Disarmament Education Fund.

It was Friday afternoon at the Pasadena Y and Kare Anderson, who heads an Oakland-based consulting firm and is one of 65 trainers who have been recruited and schooled by the National Women’s Education Fund, was zeroing in on the nitty-gritty of campaigning. “How many here have run for elective office?” she asked the two dozen participants, all but one of whom were women. Only three hands were raised. But when Anderson asked how many had been officers in organizations, hands shot up all over the room.

Participants were split into five groups, each group to plan the strategy and financing of a hypothetical campaign. The “election” was for a city council seat, a nonpartisan race in the mythical community of Springdale, a city of 100,000 with an affluent north side community, an ethnic and blue-collar community on the south side and an unemployment rate of 9%.

Student strategists were given these facts: The candidates, both non-incumbents, are Jack Jones, a 38-year-old realtor and lifelong resident of Springdale whose credentials include membership in the Presbyterian church and sponsorship of his 10-year-old son’s Little League team. The parent of a handicapped daughter, he is also active in a parents’ association for handicapped children. His wife, a homemaker, is a volunteer for the handicapped. Jack Jones has $125,000 for his campaign.

$100,000 for Campaign

Sally Smith, 44, his opponent, grew up in Springdale’s Polish-American community. She has been chairperson of the Environmental Task Force of the League of Women Voters, president of the PTA and serves on the city planning commission. The mother of two teen-agers and wife of a pharmacist, she recently took a part-time job at the community college. She has $100,000 for her campaign.

No woman has ever been elected to the Springdale city council.

The issues: A hotly contested bond issue to develop an industrial park was recently defeated with the help of senior citizens, environmentalists and small homeowners. Smith opposed the bonds, while Jones supported them. Voters are also concerned about property taxes, quality of the schools and unplanned growth.

Discussion within strategy-planning groups indicated that most of the seminar participants were, if not seasoned political candidates, no novices to political intrigue. Given license to embellish on the facts, one group assigned to support Jack Jones opted to make him the son of “pioneering parents” in Springdale and a member of the Rotary Club, reasoning that Springdale Rotarians “are never going to vote for a woman.”

Ruth Eskesen of Tucson, a member of the American Nurses Assn., observed that Jones had one huge asset: “A wife who stays home and takes care of the kids.” Springdalians, she figured, “wouldn’t like it if she was out working for abortion rights.”

Zero In on Weaknesses

The group then zeroed in on opponent Sally Smith’s weaknesses. “She’s a woman,” Dianne Glinos of CARAL said, “and she doesn’t have a wife.”

As spokespersons for each group later reported assets and liabilities, they mentioned Smith’s limited experience in the workplace, Jones’s strong “old boys’ network,” Smith’s access to volunteer campaign workers through her ties to PTA.

Participants debated whether women, half of Springdale’s voters, would identify with her on issues such as child care. Possible, countered another, but wouldn’t that advantage be offset by the likelihood of Jones having greater media access in a community where media executives were likely to be his buddies in local service clubs?

Strategists were cautioned not to fall into the trap of depicting Jones, a male and a realtor, as a stereotyped “bad guy” (greedy, money-grabbing) any more than they would want the woman candidate depicted in a stereotypical manner.

It was agreed that Smith’s access to volunteers--and who knows this better than a roomful of women--was a huge asset. Men give money, one noted, but they don’t give volunteer time to campaigns. Jones’ primary asset: A traditional wife to give political teas and keep his suits pressed.

Back in a huddle to come up with a campaign theme, a pro-Jones group faced up to the problem of making Jones appear both pro-business and pro-environment. “Let’s think what Ronald Reagan’s done,” suggested Dianne Glinos.

Stopping by, facilitator Kare Anderson urged the group to think in basics: “‘Issues’ is a term politicians use, not people. Do you talk to your husband about ‘issues?’ No, you talk about what you like and don’t like.”

The group decided on a theme: “Progress with a Purpose . . . People.” (As other groups made their presentations, some in the audience lost track of who was for whom as both candidates seemed to be calling for a chicken in every pot. “They both sound alike,” someone noted.)

Jones backers decided he would have the endorsement of the Gray Panthers of Springdale, a bid for the big senior citizens vote, and they would have him propose an alternative, and more widely acceptable, site for the city’s industrial park. “One that he already owns,” a member of the group suggested with a touch of cynicism.

Other groups had other strategies. A sausage-and-beer party for Sally Smith, at which she would speak in Polish. Women’s coffees at which Jones’ sex appeal would be a plus.

As participants had registered, each was asked to write on a giant piece of drawing paper name, affiliation and expectations from the seminar. The latter included networking, learning to be a more effective volunteer, the step-by-step of running a campaign, dealing with candidate depression and burnout, learning how to raise money. Now, in the context of a make-believe campaign, they were going through the political process, A to Z.

“There’s nothing worse than having a lot of volunteers come to your office and you don’t know what to do with them,” trainer Marian Tasco, an elected city commissioner of Philadelphia, was saying. The group had just watched a film whose message included the importance of perks for volunteers, as well as tips on telephoning (“Don’t argue with a voter. Don’t interrupt the World Series or the Super Bowl.”

Tasco had a checklist for those thinking of running for office: Can I afford it? Will my family be able to handle it? Do I have any skeletons in my family closet? Will I fall to pieces if a reporter asks me questions? Who is the incumbent and can I beat him? Do I have the support of my family and friends? Of the latter she added, “If they can’t give you the money then nobody else is going to.”

Tasco told of her own experience as a candidate in Philadelphia, a city plagued by fraud and indictments at city hall. “I was coming along,” she said, “to make sure none of that happened again . . . Mrs. Sweepy-Clean.” As a black woman, she realized there was potential support in the churches and, she said matter-of-factly, the first things she told the congregations were, “I’m from Greensboro, North Carolina” and a good Baptist.

Next Year, the Real Thing

Next on the agenda was some role-playing in which make-believe campaign volunteers called on make-believe householders to seek votes. Laddie Hughes, who’ll be doing the real thing as a congressional candidate next year, played a Jack Jones worker. It was 9:30 a.m. on a Saturday morning and she was met by a harried housewife (Kare Anderson) who was more concerned at the moment with screaming kids and escaping dogs than with vital community issues.

It seemed pretty real-to-life and led someone to ask just how effective door-to-door campaigning is today, especially in view of people’s reluctance to open their doors to strangers. Tasco acknowledged that volunteers do strike out a lot, but said there is still value in leaving literature. Perhaps, suggested a seasoned campaigner in the audience, literature focusing on the candidate’s strong anti-crime stand.

In another role-play, Dolores Press, a former Santa Monica city councilwoman attending the seminar, portrayed a Sally Smith volunteer and Tasco the somewhat hostile householder who was less interested in making Springdale history by helping elect a woman to the council than she was in the plight of her own husband, who’d been out of work for six months.

Press seized the moment: “If your husband doesn’t get a job, you’re going to be looking for child care because you’re going to be working”--and Sally Smith is the candidate who’s concerned about women’s issues such as child care. By consensus, Press had done well, scoring high on enthusiasm and eye contact.

On a real campaign trail, Tasco said, there will be even more difficult moments and at those times the best strategy is to “just pull away and go someplace else,” leaving your candidate’s literature as you depart.

Respecting Traditions

Whelan touched on the importance of respecting political tradition. In some states, for example, she said, it is time-honored good form to take a campaign into a house of worship while in others “there might be (bad) reactions to using churches.” Participant Susan Gerard of Phoenix, who is considering running for the state Legislature, mentioned “the political power of the pulpit” today in Arizona, where fundamentalists have a strong following.

In California, observed Whelan, even if a candidate is running as an insurgent, “There is a culture to that insurgency.”

The matter of money frequently raised its ugly head. “We’re women,” Tasco said, “and traditionally women do not give to political campaigns.” Spread the word, she said--”If you want women to run for political office, you’ve got to give.”

Whelan added, “If we do not leave here running ourselves, we need to examine our consciences (as to how) we support women candidates and how we help the political process help women candidates.”

She noted the growing number of women’s political action committees (there are seven in the Los Angeles area), some, but not all of which, insist that candidates they support be good on all their issues. Some women’s rights-oriented PACs, Whelan said, are experiencing conflict between nurturing women and “being hard-nosed enough to get results in the political process.”

PACs and campaigns, she said, “have a particular responsibility to help women with early money (funding early in campaigns, at the preliminary polls stage). There is still the problem of having to be twice as good (as men) twice as fast. Nationally, you’ve really got to prove it with preemptive money.”

“It’s real tough to look tough on crime when you’re 4 feet 11,” Assemblywoman Gloria Molina was saying in describing some of the obstacles she faced in her uphill battle to win election in the 56th District in 1981. Her campaign manager overcame that obstacle, she said, by seeing that Molina looked tough in pictures.

“There are many, many obstacles as a woman candidate,” Molina said, in her case “a hell of a lot more liabilities than there were assets.” First among those she mentioned being a woman, “and a Mexican woman,” in a district that is 80% Latino (East Los Angeles) and probably “the most macho district in the state.”

On top of that, Molina said, were her credentials as a feminist and a pro-choice feminist, at that.

Molina, who had a female political consultant in her campaign, and Whelan both spoke of the problem of getting political consultants and campaign managers, most of whom are men, to create a proper image for a woman candidate. “Don’t let them try to make you an honorary man,” cautioned Whelan.

What is needed, Molina said, ‘is “a core group of good consultants who can assist women in campaigns.”

At day’s end on Saturday four women who are running, or considering, running for public office opted to have themselves videotaped, and then critiqued, on two-minute presentations. Here, they picked up tips on how to cope with a curled-up page of notes (give it a quick reverse roll before placing it on the podium) and how to dress for success. Bella Abzug notwithstanding, Tasco said, clothing should be non-distracting--”You don’t want people to look at your crazy beads. We still want to be feminine and attractive, and we can be good candidates, too.”

There were some false starts, but also plenty of encouragement, as Penny Wohlstetter of Pasadena and Tracy Pellman of Huntington Beach (both considering school board races in the future), Gerda Steele of Pasadena (a city employee looking toward elective office at some time) and Laddie Hughes practiced their pitches.

A tip from the cameraman: Constantly moving the eyes from side to side “makes you look illegal.” A tip from Whelan: “Ordinary words are fine. You don’t have to have a phrase where a word will do.” A tip from Tasco: Don’t travel alone on the campaign trail--bring someone along to put your literature in people’s hands as you leave.

Reflecting on the two days, Don Cannon, a longtime member of NOW, said it was valuable to him for the “mind-set” it provided, noting that licking envelopes at headquarters just doesn’t provide this kind of basic knowledge of what running a campaign is all about.

If the turnout, about 27, had been somewhat lower than organizers had hoped, Whelan said the convening groups were optimistic about reaching their goal of 600 women during the 10-city series. “By the time we get to Dayton . . . ,” Dee Brinkley, the national YWCA’s director of training, was saying.

(The 12 supporting organizations have agreed to pick up any deficits. And the Y is providing the facilities in each city in exchange for the right to send four people, free of charge, to each seminar).

The National Women’s Education Fund, founded in 1972 and supported primarily by foundations (Carnegie, Revson) and corporations, has emphasized political training for women. NWEF chose YWCA for the current collaboration, Whelan said, because of “its racial, ethnic and economic diversity, as well as its numbers. It is a model and leader for us.” (YWCA, with a membership of 2 million, is in 4,000 communities nationwide).

The seminars, Brinkley said, represent the coming to fruition of an idea that began in 1980 when Whelan walked into Y offices in New York with a proposal. Nationally, Brinkley said, the Y board is “very excited about the program, about opening new doors, new avenues to women.”