But ambition is an insidious disease. : Such Good Friends

I’m not an expert in politics, so I don’t know the deeper meaning of the dance being performed by state Sen. Ed Davis and Rep. Bobbi Fiedler, two old troupers on the Republican stage.

Fiedler has been indicted for allegedly offering Davis $100,000 not to run for the U.S. Senate in order to give her a clearer shot at the same office. The charge is based on conversations tape-recorded by Davis’ campaign manager.

This has naturally caused a good deal of pain to Bobbi, who considered Ed a good friend, and to Ed, who is being accused by the gossip-mongers of having set her up in the first place.

Cries of “I am not a crook,” “But it would be wrong” and, “What I meant was” are being heard across the San Fernando Valley, a Republican tradition dating back to the time of Richard M. Nixon.

Taped conversations have been the nemesis of contemporary politicians since a mayoralty contest in 1958 when scandal engulfed two public figures in Northern California’s Teapot County.

You probably don’t remember Barbie Fiddle and Ted Rabis, who also were dear friends. They were such dear friends, in fact, that they were sleeping together, and that was back in the days when sleeping together meant more than a weekend with nothing else to do.

Ted was an ex-sheriff who once distinguished himself by suggesting that the way to halt an outbreak of Trailways bus hijackings that plagued the town was to convict the hijackers at the scene and run over them with the very bus they were trying to hijack.

The people were so pleased with Ted’s wit and imagination, they elected him to the Board of Supervisors.

Barbie was a gym teacher who gained notoriety by leading a drive to forbid minority children from riding their horses to school. Equality of transit had nothing to do with it, she insisted. Minorities tended to be overweight and horseback-obesity constituted cruelty to animals.

The measure was so popular with the people in town that they elected Barbie to the City Council.

It was through their mutual political cant to enforce the law and protect the rights of horses that Ted and Barbie fell in love.

They were an exceptionally popular couple among the hijack-haters and the horse-lovers, which constituted almost the whole town, and it was no surprise to anyone when both announced their candidacies for mayor. The position was then occupied by a skinny old man named Ollin Crampton who used to jog around Millard Fillmore Square every day.

Folks worried that the campaign might affect Ted and Barbie’s love affair, but they assured everyone that they abided by the GOP’s 13th Commandment, which said that, even though you were sleeping together, you could still be friends.

But ambition is an insidious disease. As the fight for mayor progressed, Ted and Barbie began sniping at one another and even found that they didn’t have time for love.

Worried friends worked hard to get Ted and Barbie to restore their relationship and, thank the God in whom all Republicans firmly believe, they crawled into bed together once more.

Unfortunately, however, no sooner had Barbie dressed and hit the campaign trail the next morning then Ted announced she had illegally offered him $122.50 to quit the race! And he had tape recordings to prove it!

The revelation stunned every man, woman and child in Teapot County. Well, everyone but Mayor Crampton, who just kept on jogging around Millard Fillmore Square every day without paying too much attention to anything.

Crampton had been around a long time and had seen a lot of political lovers leaping in and out from under the covers, and it did not surprise him to hear that Ted was talking out of bed.

The tape, in addition to a lot of moaning and sighing, heard Ted mention in heavy whispers that he was short of money and Barbie wonder in short gasps if he could use $122.50.

And then Barbie said, according to the transcript, that she would be happy to lend Ted a few bucks but didn’t feel it was right because it would appear that she was supporting his candidacy over her own.

Then Ted said, “ . . . but you would give me the money if I got the (expletive deleted) out of the race?”

Barbie: “Well, of course, that would be wrong and I am not a (expletive deleted) crook, but I would give you a gift worth, uh, $122.50, which you could then, um, trade in for a refund. Shall we pray?”

As it turned out, there was no “smoking gun,” as Nixon used to say, and Barbie was never convicted of doing anything wrong. Ted said later that he had turned her in only to uphold the law, though it was whispered about that he felt the job of mayor was worth at least a hundred dollars more.

Life returned to normal in Teapot. Ted and Barbie went back to sleeping together because everyone thought they were such a perfect couple and, what the hell, politics have always created strange bedfellows anyhow.

Ollin Crampton, by the way, was reelected for the 14th time without lifting a finger to campaign. He just kept jogging around the square, and let the Republicans do the rest.