Candidates Fail to Raise Interest in Mayor’s Race

San Diego City Councilman Bill Cleator’s aides are fond of introducing him at campaign stops as “the right man for mayor, right now.”

Former Councilwoman Maureen F. O’Connor’s campaign literature proclaims that “protecting your way of life is her way of life.”

Councilman Ed Struiksma promises that if he is elected mayor, he will “keep San Diego on a middle course, not too far to the left, not too far to the right.”

And former Councilman Floyd Morrow claims to have “new innovative approaches to old problems.”

Voters looking for more than slogans, however, have been largely disappointed to date in the mayoral campaign, which also features 10 long-shot candidates. Indeed, with less than a month remaining to the special Feb. 25 mayoral primary, even some of the candidates themselves concede that the campaign has been distinguished more by prosaic oratory and generalities than by an issue-oriented dialogue focused on the would-be mayors’ visions for San Diego’s future.

“It’s like the campaign hasn’t really found its stride yet,” O’Connor said. “For some reason, the energy level just seems to be down. Maybe things will be different in the runoff.” If no candidate receives more than 50% of the vote in the primary, the two top vote-getters will compete in a June 3 runoff.

“Where’s the vision . . . in this campaign? Good question. I sure haven’t seen it yet,” added San Diego Unified Port Commissioner Lou Wolfsheimer, a former city planning commissioner who frequently represents developers at City Hall.

Theories abound on why the mayoral campaign--a gross understatement of the situation--has failed to capture the public’s imagination. And one of the most common notions holds that the lackluster nature of the race has much to do with the fact that the current field of candidates suffers by comparison to the man whose forced resignation as mayor made this campaign necessary--Roger Hedgecock.

“Roger’s unquestionably a hard act to follow,” said David Lewis, Struiksma’s campaign consultant. “None of these candidates is able to articulate his views or vision nearly as well as Roger.”

A compelling public speaker and charismatic campaigner, Hedgecock cast an imposing shadow over the city’s post-Wilson era and was, even his detractors acknowledge, virtually without peer among local politicians. The eloquence with which he articulated his guiding tenet of preventing the “Los Angelization” of San Diego, combined with his no-holds-barred campaign style, enlivened the past two mayoral races.

“Roger could paint such beautiful, vivid word pictures of the city’s future, that you felt as if you could practically reach out and touch that vision,” said San Diego Chamber of Commerce President Lee Grissom after Hedgecock’s felony conviction on campaign-law violations. “Few people are able to make their vision so tangible.”

“We’re hearing candidates say some of the things that Roger did, but they don’t have his charisma or ability to excite folks,” added the Rev. Robert Ard, president of the San Diego Black Leadership Council. “Their words don’t have . . . that same magic.”

Other political observers argue that the fact that this is the third mayoral race in less than three years has contributed to public apathy, and that the brevity of the seven-week primary campaign dictated a rather superficial race based primarily on name recognition and media ads, not substantive debate.

Indeed, in their limited public appearances to date, the major candidates have emphasized their backgrounds and talked more about what they did in the past than what they intend to do in the future. Moreover, their remarks have been laced with platitudes and generalities--promises about accessibility to community groups, creating jobs, carefully managing growth, seeking ways to prevent a water shortage here--but have been notably short on specifics. The candidates also frequently speak of “restoring integrity” to city government in the wake of Hedgecock’s inglorious departure from City Hall.

“I’m disappointed at what I’ve heard--or I guess I should say what I haven’t heard--from all of the candidates to this point,” said Tom La Vaut, chairman of the San Diego County Democratic Party. “Sure, they’re all saying they’re going to make this a great city. But how? Who’s talking about the homeless? Water? We haven’t heard much about how they intend to lead San Diego into the 21st Century.”

The candidates, however, say that their attention is focused more on 1986 than the year 2000, partly because they believe that voters have lowered their own horizons and are more interested in short-range plans than in oratory about the next century.

“People want to know what you’re going to do for them now , not 15 years from now,” Cleator said. “They’re interested in how you’re going to affect their everyday life. The future they’re concerned about is next month and next year.”

Similarly, O’Connor argues that San Diegans are more concerned about “nitty-gritty issues” than “a lot of fancy words about the future.”

“All that talk about vision in the (1983) race was OK--people bought it but I don’t think they got it,” O’Connor added. “You want to know my vision? My vision this week is to get the trash picked up in the mid-city business district, making sure that they don’t increase sand-mining in Rancho Bernardo, widening Torrey Pines Road in La Jolla. That sounds a little parochial, but people want to hear about those real nuts-and-bolts issues.”

Wolfsheimer, meanwhile, points out that the major issues that have dominated local politics for the past decade--notably, downtown redevelopment and preventing urban sprawl--have been “pretty much talked out” over the years, causing discussion of those points sound like little more than recycled rhetoric from past campaigns.

“There aren’t a lot of sexy issues left out there,” Wolfsheimer said. “Most of these issues have been talked about so much by so many different politicians that, really, what more is there to say?”

The candidates are finding that the answer to Wolfsheimer’s question is, “Not much.” For example, “continuing the momentum downtown” is a phrase much in vogue among the major candidates. Each also has pledged to strongly support the implementation of Proposition A--a pledge that really is nothing more than a promise to enforce the growth-management initiative that voters approved last fall. (Skeptical environmentalists also note that Cleator and Struiksma opposed Proposition A last fall, and that O’Connor remained neutral on the issue.)

In the absence of major issues or policy differences, the candidates’ differing styles and leadership have emerged as a key topic in the campaign. Struiksma, perhaps more than any of the other contenders, has focused on style in an attempt to portray himself as a kind of Everyman who happens to be running for mayor.

Struiksma’s standard stump speech evokes images of an average, hard-working person who, as he puts it, is “the man in the middle with a millionaire on either side,” a reference to Cleator’s and O’Connor’s personal wealth. Known for working long hours during his four years on the council, the 39-year-old Struiksma says that he is “not afraid to roll up my sleeves to tackle the tough problems,” and tells campaign audiences, “I turn out the lights at City Hall.”

“I’m just like all other San Diegans here--I live with my wife, my daughter, my dog and my cat in our two-bedroom condo in Mira Mesa,” Struiksma said at a candidates’ forum in Southeast San Diego last week. “I fight the traffic on the freeway every morning, like you do. I worry about paying my bills each month, just like you do.”

Consultant Lewis said that voters can expect to hear more of the “I’m just like you” theme from Struiksma in the primary’s closing weeks.

“Ed’s perception of the world is that of an average middle-class American, versus the world of two millionaires,” Lewis said. “That’s an important element in determining what kind of mayor a person would be.”

In a campaign in which bold moves have been scarce, Struiksma also produced one of the boldest by taking a strong stand against a June ballot initiative that would grant one-time, across-the-board pay increases of as much as 17% to police officers. The proposal, which could become a major issue in a mayoral runoff, would cost the city about $10 million, and could prompt cuts in other vital city services. Neither O’Connor nor Cleator has taken a position on the volatile police pay issue.

“What are they going to do--wait for a poll to show them which way the wind’s blowing?” Lewis asked, citing the incident as an example of Struiksma’s “decisive leadership.”

Cleator, meanwhile, describes himself as “a proven negotiator, a facilitator, a coalition-builder” whose strong ties to the business community could produce valuable economic and other opportunities for the city--a campaign claim that he argues is supported by his key role in attracting cruise ships to San Diego.

Prone to speak of himself in the third person, the two-term councilman also often says that “Bill Cleator knows the value of a dollar,” citing his own business background and the fact that his City Hall office budget is the lowest on the council.

Seeking to soften his Establishment image, the 58-year-old Cleator has adopted a stance on growth-management considerably more moderate than his voting record, and goes out of his way to assure community groups that his would be an “open-door administration.”

“I get hit with, ‘Will you be open?’ probably more than anything else,” Cleator said. “Can Bill Cleator work with people? Can he form coalitions and get things done? The answer is yes.”

Faced with an image problem of her own, O’Connor also has striven to dispel her long-standing reputation for aloofness through what she terms “person-to-person politics” at shopping centers, where she typically meets hundreds of voters weekly. In addition, O’Connor, 39, has pledged to spend every other Saturday at City Hall to meet residents on a first-come, first-served basis.

Saying that she wanted to end “the craziness” of spiraling campaign costs, O’Connor--who in 1983 contributed to that problem by spending more than $560,000 of her own money in her unsuccessful mayoral race--last week adopted a self-imposed $150,000 spending limit for the primary. O’Connor characterized the spending cap as illustrative of how the next mayor “must find innovative ways to run the city.” Her opponents, however, viewed her proposal as a tactical gambit that offers little insight into how she might perform as mayor.

One of her top priorities as mayor, O’Connor says, would be the revitalization of San Diego’s older neighborhoods.

“With all of the attention on downtown and growth in the north, some of our existing neighborhoods have been neglected,” O’Connor said. “That’s the biggest issue I see for the next five years. That means providing more affordable housing, street repair and better city services, like street sweeping--all the usual things. It’s not terribly dramatic. But to me, that’s the ‘next frontier’ for the next mayor.”

At neighborhood “coffees” with small groups of voters, O’Connor has answered dozens of questions about numerous issues, but admits that her responses are “pretty similar” to the other major candidates’ positions. In addition, her answers--as well as those of the other candidates--frequently are limited to pledges to reevaluate or study problems before offering solutions.

Morrow, a 53-year-old lawyer and former three-term councilman, is often described as the “wild card” in the mayoral primary. While his resume, which also includes a two-year term as chairman of the San Diego County Democratic Party, is too impressive for Morrow to be dismissed as a minor candidate, he is not as well known as the three other major contenders--prompting many political observers to view him as a “spoiler” unlikely to qualify for the runoff himself but whose presence on the ballot could affect the primary’s outcome.

“I’m campaigning on the basis of beliefs,” Morrow said. “Primarily, of course, I believe in myself . . . and I think there’s an awfully, awfully good chance of my being mayor.”

Joining the other leading candidates aboard the “accessibility” bandwagon, Morrow argues that he would “bring a tremendously larger number of people into the mainstream of having something to do with their local government” if he is elected. To do so, Morrow says, he would establish two major advisory boards--one consisting of “scientifically selected” citizens that would meet quarterly, and the other of “the wise heads of the largest institutions” in San Diego, provided that the former business and academic leaders are retired.

Local Democratic leader La Vaut, who has watched the mayoral race unfold more closely than San Diegans with a less passionate interest in politics, has heard those and other comments from the candidates. He remains, however, unimpressed, and argues that his opinion is hardly a minority one.

“I haven’t found many people who are very enthusiastic about the race at this point,” La Vaut said. “It’s easy to say, ‘Well, people aren’t interested in politics.’ But I think you have to put a lot of the blame on the candidates, too. They have to give the public something to get excited about. And so far, they haven’t.”